tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32182204962110397022023-11-16T02:49:16.325-05:00The Uncrucified Reader's BlogA blog for collecting reader feedback and sharing art and inspirations from The Uncrucified, an Exalted original fic by Angela R. Sasser.Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-55520072534222191002022-09-27T12:50:00.003-04:002023-01-22T16:22:03.459-05:00The Uncrucified: Second Breath NaNoWriMo Draft Preview!<p> For those who stumbled upon this off the road corner of the internet (do people still read blogs??), I wanted to give you a little treat for finding your way here! Last year for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), I took the shattered pieces that was the massive discarded draft of The Uncrucified's 3rd person rewrite and started to reform them into an all-new draft that completely reframes the story.</p><p>Enjoy <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3218220496211039702/5552007253422219100#" target="_blank">a peek at the new draft</a> now dubbed <span style="font-size: medium;"><i>The Uncrucified: Second Breath</i></span>!</p><p>For those who have been here awhile, the 3rd person rewrite just felt off for me, as I mentioned in<a href="http://theuncrucified.blogspot.com/2021/07/the-uncrucified-beta-chapter-9-god-of.html"> the last post here</a>. The intro just wasn't hooking readers and it was going to take us forever to get to the latter part of Kalara's life as a Solar. </p><p>So now, I've found a new entry point for how we meet Kalara which allows me to show both her Solar life and glimpses of her mortal life. To be sure, bits of the old draft will show up, but we're on an all-new path now with The Uncrucified: Second Breath!</p><p>I hope to unveil Second Breath for proper beta-reading at some point in the (hopefully) near-future, but I don't want us to keep spinning our wheels with it, so it'll go through a first draft and a pass from an editor first to be fully completed before I'm ready to show it to Beta Readers.</p><p>Till then, I leave you with the new story's One Sentence Pitch! And if you be so bold, you can also check out the <a href="https://twitter.com/AngelaSasserArt/status/1554483545300672514?s=20&t=SNnuDhIXfc6a0rdFy8dC6g" target="_blank">Fantasy Indies August Twitter thread</a>, where I shared fun tidbits about The Uncrucified's newest incarnation. </p><p>Enjoy and let me know if you're still alive out there, Uncrucified fans!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPMQKPOo8pVHSa5Jx54ioQvfdPzWk0EcqWRwTicmXbjPlLYXMbF47ZNV_wKjRDHoyNdePqSQrpB-HrMvuC3OZoZ9MtoXYRw8TomMnfRzGE-z2BU2b2QuB6TFnp2JgJ5DVii8QMlLxEuG8OsEhhgzLDxveAEIAUWDNWK9Np2cKju8dVBeHtSG8cWGp/s1200/The-Uncrucified---One-Sentence-Pitch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPMQKPOo8pVHSa5Jx54ioQvfdPzWk0EcqWRwTicmXbjPlLYXMbF47ZNV_wKjRDHoyNdePqSQrpB-HrMvuC3OZoZ9MtoXYRw8TomMnfRzGE-z2BU2b2QuB6TFnp2JgJ5DVii8QMlLxEuG8OsEhhgzLDxveAEIAUWDNWK9Np2cKju8dVBeHtSG8cWGp/w640-h640/The-Uncrucified---One-Sentence-Pitch.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-31841249484098631492021-07-07T16:42:00.004-04:002021-07-07T23:14:27.837-04:00The Uncrucified BETA - Chapter 9 - God of Mercy + Announcements<p><b>Author's Note: </b> Well, it's been awhile, folks. My husband almost died (again)! This time from COVID which hit him pretty hard as a cancer/heart patient at the beginning of this year. Sorry for the bad joke, but gallows humor is how we cope in our household after he's beaten heart failure and lymphoma. The man has lives like a cat (and hopefully more)!</p><p>Life has thrown us for a loop since then. Kev's thankfully made an incredible full recovery and we're on our way to a new home, with Kev finding an awesome new job! Things are on the upswing and I've finally been able to clear my head long enough to post this beta chapter which I actually finished at the beginning of this year, but never had the clarity to post with everything going on.</p><p>Unfortunately, this may be the last chapter for a long while! I've come to the conclusion that I want to totally restructure this story from a chronological tale to one that has a non-linear structure. I thought of what I hope is an AMAZING idea to realize the idea of Kalara ruminating on her mortal life, so that means I'm due for a rewrite. Again!</p><p>I wouldn't even blame you guys if you just bailed on me. It feels like I'm ALWAYS rewriting this story! I'm incredibly excited with my idea for this restructuring, however, and I believe if you stick with it that you might love it! I want to allow Kalara's story to unravel from the perspective of a fully realized Solar being forced to look back on her mortal life for very Dark and Sinister reasons. I don't want to spoil it, but you'll just have to see!</p><p>It's going to mean probably that I'm going to work on an ugly rough Alpha draft I'll share with a few patient folks privately, which I'll then start sharing here as an entirely new beta draft. I don't even know what to call this retelling. Echo Draft? Ugggh why writing so hard??</p><p><b>But What About this Blog?</b></p><p>While I'm taking the time to get my shit together as a writer, I'm going to focus this blog on building Visual Guides for Exalted and sharing artwork inspired by The Uncrucified/Exalted.</p><p>So until the next time, enjoy the latest chapter, which also features a special guest character cameo who belongs to Sam Seaman! I'll let you guess who's knocking around Kalara's neighborhood from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raeliyah/pseuds/Raeliyah/works?fandom_id=24472160" target="_blank">Sam's amazing Exalted stories</a>.</p><hr /><p><b>Rating PG-13: </b> Violence, Adult Themes</p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Chapter Summary:</b> <i>The dangerous journey to Chiaroscuro begins! Kalara bids farewell to her past as the caravan makes its way through the Deep Desert Road. The journey is long and treacherous, but not as treacherous as the apathy that threatens to consume her spirit.</i></span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: large;">Read the chapter <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pV1BUH9NH_1ykVlb0oKzzLUiIGcTnB5lB0i6-X-sLnE/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">here</a>!</span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;">See the <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IXEzj7quTAKzJNyUUXMqGGp_8l23la-G?usp=sharing" target="_blank">full folder</a> of Beta Draft chapters</span></li></ul><p></p><p>(Instead of embedding the text in the blog entries, I'll be linking off to Google Docs from now on for easier updating and commenting on specific elements of the story.)</p>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-56186461630485415642020-10-14T00:23:00.008-04:002020-10-14T11:25:27.251-04:00Exalted Art Challenge - 3 - Favorite Charm<p><i>The Righteous Devil form isn't merely a martial art, but a spiritual reckoning. When you draw on this art, you're pulling from that turmoil deep down, from all the sins you've ever committed, and all the sinners you've ever reckoned with. All that roiling guilt and anger and painful understanding refined and channeled into the flame of your soul, of your weapons. </i></p><p><i>It took me years to even begin to master it...and it almost destroyed me. Only one who can understand their own sins can channel what it means to be not only a Devil, but a Righteous one.</i></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">- Memoirs of Kalara Vadras, The Uncrucified, RY 800.</span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">I was stumped a long time on this topic because there were just too many fun options to choose from! I explored a few of them in the <a href="https://www.patreon.com/posts/42524323" target="_blank">sneak peek compilation</a> I posted in the previous post.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><a href="https://www.patreon.com/posts/42524323" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2clPrQAbuq11qu5tKzIYCvo5Zwr8WRqLbO_wQnhzyKe9yROU4ceVBYMOM4iQM7EFkFY2hARMTQL8iawsqzffSENVgcoQhWKXo-MRU29ziGs6hKSH6b5SJoAUFLp6Ve6r3Tayd99lPWw/w640-h360/Early-Access-Preview---EAC-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">Funny enough, Kalara only mastered 3 of the Charms (or magical abilities) pictured here, not including the one I chose for the final piece. I always intended for her to master the Righteous Devil style, if only because the later levels of this celestial martial art allowed for such epic imagery as wings of flame and the judgement of souls. Judgement, revenge, and redemption as themes play a big part in her arc as a character, which makes the style so fitting for her!</span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">The final piece ended up being a bit of wish fulfillment for mastering the charm Garda Flies on Gilded Wings Attack, which is a Charm from the Righteous Devil path. Perhaps one day it will happen in her story? We shall see!</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37YRSm4y-Vz8Pl0Vvx3OGUppexyT8-c0Rb1wK1ImgV_kjSgttJgw3IofQKi2NQB-cEEZuZlJSrt8nC6ESw3FnYe4xgaAe2h4VAMn0Ry3H9F9N_mqtrwWIGiEMuadvqRZlcwVqvPyYt1o/s1200/EAC_-_Favorite_Charm_Final-LOWRES.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="1200" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37YRSm4y-Vz8Pl0Vvx3OGUppexyT8-c0Rb1wK1ImgV_kjSgttJgw3IofQKi2NQB-cEEZuZlJSrt8nC6ESw3FnYe4xgaAe2h4VAMn0Ry3H9F9N_mqtrwWIGiEMuadvqRZlcwVqvPyYt1o/w640-h318/EAC_-_Favorite_Charm_Final-LOWRES.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><br /></span></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxLNfbk_7W8A8YJCfSduywNJVReUazy0mxewFcBwxYv-giKMX8nmll_37Qfwgykn7LBoA59yNGQGmMm8BvepAi3wFJjuy2ZBZwXruZbiGMNEasKNzU-GP_qRCOeJh_8Za9YJAf3SCzwg/s1001/EAC_-_Favorite_Charm_Final-DETAIL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxLNfbk_7W8A8YJCfSduywNJVReUazy0mxewFcBwxYv-giKMX8nmll_37Qfwgykn7LBoA59yNGQGmMm8BvepAi3wFJjuy2ZBZwXruZbiGMNEasKNzU-GP_qRCOeJh_8Za9YJAf3SCzwg/w640-h640/EAC_-_Favorite_Charm_Final-DETAIL.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Painted in Procreate.</span></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;">The prompt list. Join in by using the hashtag #ExaltedArtChallenge on social media!</p><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpZmpnygkdfQUp8AuPlhRu3xY35O3ZzkD5fNY3pK7qOzqznnya4sf1WvJChjfi4qkiuBwyc32xBrsGpbFame2RwOf_aOkZW3dik6uvKP3_Bxkw8AKsv7dxPF0-5zDYtHsB1NWPPefOoQ/s960/o1zubrguy2l11.jpg" style="color: #774c00; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpZmpnygkdfQUp8AuPlhRu3xY35O3ZzkD5fNY3pK7qOzqznnya4sf1WvJChjfi4qkiuBwyc32xBrsGpbFame2RwOf_aOkZW3dik6uvKP3_Bxkw8AKsv7dxPF0-5zDYtHsB1NWPPefOoQ/w640-h360/o1zubrguy2l11.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-73022606102222970782020-10-06T01:02:00.009-04:002020-11-09T18:25:38.409-05:00Exalted Art Challenge - 2 - Regional Fashion<i>I wonder sometimes if I would even recognize myself back then. I still remember the soft light of Gem's crystals and the teeming underground marketplace that never slept. As a slave of Iblan, I was dressed in attire to represent the household of my master, an aging master goldsmith. </i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>I owned no finery of my own, not even the bangles I wore which served as an example of Iblan craftmanship for all to see and admire, for even their slaves must convey everything about their stature as Gem's famed goldsmiths. Instead of gems sewn into my shawl as any fine lady of Gem might own, mine was painted and embroidered to mimic gems. I was a pale imitation of what a noble Iblan lady might be.</i><br /><div><br /></div><div>- Memoirs of Kalara Vadras, The Uncrucified, RY 800.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here we are on Day 6 and I've only gotten through 2 topics! It seems like this one's going to be more of a 'when I'm done' instead of a daily thing, but that's quite alright because I had a lot of fun with this! I may have to come back to the concept of Kalara stealing some time for lunch beside a crystal cluster in the city, as I really enjoy the casual slice of life of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stay tuned to <a href="http://www.patreon.com/angelasasser" target="_blank">my Patreon</a> later this week for an exclusive Patreon Early Access peek at all the sketches I did for this particular piece and a little more behind the creative process.</div><div><br /></div><div>Painted in Procreate.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRC55Jd3at8gc2774qUvbjIvEJpyq386WxkfZxUd_7F7sFj-O0LYtHoTFY5TMQgqUp7RMwx7Mqi1hOZcjpHMERT5MU4c8rBBhd2ICPPZoWeYwJhsGsl2BT9WzNyBZw5l0Fn44Emp9SNKY/s1000/EAC---Regional-Fashion.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRC55Jd3at8gc2774qUvbjIvEJpyq386WxkfZxUd_7F7sFj-O0LYtHoTFY5TMQgqUp7RMwx7Mqi1hOZcjpHMERT5MU4c8rBBhd2ICPPZoWeYwJhsGsl2BT9WzNyBZw5l0Fn44Emp9SNKY/s16000/EAC---Regional-Fashion.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6Ey3mdhIzOBp8Uc2Sc6vaDMBdLzJzShmTjpCi15yNd3y-OVmgv7em9wBw4H5HAENMe9dykdyqYgKL71kpN_d-kC-CRmSCZ5b3tMqN-mAYBske3tUutBCGboPUCFnx3epKrlYYbP4s7E/s1000/EAC---Regional-Fashion-Detail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6Ey3mdhIzOBp8Uc2Sc6vaDMBdLzJzShmTjpCi15yNd3y-OVmgv7em9wBw4H5HAENMe9dykdyqYgKL71kpN_d-kC-CRmSCZ5b3tMqN-mAYBske3tUutBCGboPUCFnx3epKrlYYbP4s7E/w640-h640/EAC---Regional-Fashion-Detail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoNK-QJPPMfu4ZeWfqmll0DSiKLMhYofq6IVeUilINZtSXq6hAvOLxp573fIZ2pQouNPn-UbQKvCOkJvQtbi48c7J3kVK3aGmGT8yD5ZR-J6Zx73ZKTYRazbya5mT4D_3UtXKqvJGQG4/s1000/EAC-Concepts-Regional-Fashion-of-Gem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoNK-QJPPMfu4ZeWfqmll0DSiKLMhYofq6IVeUilINZtSXq6hAvOLxp573fIZ2pQouNPn-UbQKvCOkJvQtbi48c7J3kVK3aGmGT8yD5ZR-J6Zx73ZKTYRazbya5mT4D_3UtXKqvJGQG4/w640-h480/EAC-Concepts-Regional-Fashion-of-Gem.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;">The prompt list. Join in by using the hashtag #ExaltedArtChallenge!</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpZmpnygkdfQUp8AuPlhRu3xY35O3ZzkD5fNY3pK7qOzqznnya4sf1WvJChjfi4qkiuBwyc32xBrsGpbFame2RwOf_aOkZW3dik6uvKP3_Bxkw8AKsv7dxPF0-5zDYtHsB1NWPPefOoQ/s960/o1zubrguy2l11.jpg" style="color: #774c00; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpZmpnygkdfQUp8AuPlhRu3xY35O3ZzkD5fNY3pK7qOzqznnya4sf1WvJChjfi4qkiuBwyc32xBrsGpbFame2RwOf_aOkZW3dik6uvKP3_Bxkw8AKsv7dxPF0-5zDYtHsB1NWPPefOoQ/w640-h360/o1zubrguy2l11.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-89690156182300064722020-10-02T12:47:00.010-04:002020-11-09T18:26:09.593-05:00Exalted Art Challenge - Topic 1 - Favorite Caste<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><i>The Solar Exalted are chosen for a caste by the Unconquered Sun based on our propensities for violence, for diplomacy, or for many other specialties. Sol sees our potential and blows on the embers of our ambition, no matter our station in life, no matter if we are good or evil, as long as we can bring about the change that this world in chaos needs. We are marked with a symbol that shines upon our foreheads, a beacon of purpose and power for all of Creation to recognize, if not respect.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><i><br /></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">- Memoirs of Kalara Vadras, The Uncrucified, RY 800.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></span>My Favorite Caste is the Eclipse Caste. They are the voices of reason, the keen wit, and the clever bargainers. They are the ones who keep the four arms and virtues of the Unconquered Sun in balance, just as they do for their Circle of allies. They are also the Kingpins, the ones who can play the 'game' that others aren't suited for. Where violence's effectiveness ends, the power to persuade hearts and minds begins. In all these facets, the Eclipse shines.<br /><br />I designed this marque to represent Kalara Vadras, my Exalted character born in the deep desert mining city of Gem. The Fire of her region ripples throughout her cartouche, balanced by the silver associated with her Caste. Tail feathers of the phoenix adorn the center, a symbol of renewal for this character who began life anew as a Solar Exalted. She spent much of her mortal life in slavery toiling against a great machine of oppression. Reborn to the Eclipse Caste, Kalara uses her divine writ to push the tapestry of progress and mercantilism to create a better world purged with fire and sanctified with new bonds of trade.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRyfc2qvb318m7oJhJSygSmbypEvNEGfmsLOW9lGySCKJCX9pWaHvAh7RxYlAG9AWmwDmrt4zJok9LjfHA8ALCN_Yg55b6r_2p5qmWXnERO2FLFKOK68T8mT3kEye-7srO1nYKAF2WgY/s1000/01---Favorite-Caste---Eclipse-Caste---lowres.jpg" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRyfc2qvb318m7oJhJSygSmbypEvNEGfmsLOW9lGySCKJCX9pWaHvAh7RxYlAG9AWmwDmrt4zJok9LjfHA8ALCN_Yg55b6r_2p5qmWXnERO2FLFKOK68T8mT3kEye-7srO1nYKAF2WgY/w424-h640/01---Favorite-Caste---Eclipse-Caste---lowres.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="424" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8ndpNrrrVtkoxP5zhOFQaFZd9uSfvcha7-B90qcyPPKZMWsWZuPt5tE7h7GWV4p-PTdOOW_5uowiia1OGy6tpVP7IVkru5Q12V-RS8nUb7v5paUD_Mkk1mOEipQ-YgEu0E_PiWw9e3A/s1200/EAC-concepts-fave-caste-eclipse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8ndpNrrrVtkoxP5zhOFQaFZd9uSfvcha7-B90qcyPPKZMWsWZuPt5tE7h7GWV4p-PTdOOW_5uowiia1OGy6tpVP7IVkru5Q12V-RS8nUb7v5paUD_Mkk1mOEipQ-YgEu0E_PiWw9e3A/w640-h480/EAC-concepts-fave-caste-eclipse.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none;"><br /></span></div><p><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;">The prompt list. Use the hashtag #ExaltedArtChallenge if you're joining in!</p><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpZmpnygkdfQUp8AuPlhRu3xY35O3ZzkD5fNY3pK7qOzqznnya4sf1WvJChjfi4qkiuBwyc32xBrsGpbFame2RwOf_aOkZW3dik6uvKP3_Bxkw8AKsv7dxPF0-5zDYtHsB1NWPPefOoQ/s960/o1zubrguy2l11.jpg" style="color: #774c00; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpZmpnygkdfQUp8AuPlhRu3xY35O3ZzkD5fNY3pK7qOzqznnya4sf1WvJChjfi4qkiuBwyc32xBrsGpbFame2RwOf_aOkZW3dik6uvKP3_Bxkw8AKsv7dxPF0-5zDYtHsB1NWPPefOoQ/w640-h360/o1zubrguy2l11.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><p><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;">If you fancy a look at my preliminary sketches and creative notes for my Challenge pieces, consider pitching into <a href="http://www.patreon.com/angelasasser" style="color: #774c00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">my Patreon</a>, where I'll be posting a compilation of sketches and notes each week as exclusive Early Access posts!</p>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-37150742383489749442020-09-24T15:04:00.004-04:002020-09-24T15:04:38.361-04:00Introducing My October Exalted Art Challenge!<h3 style="text-align: left;">Cross-posted from <a href="https://www.patreon.com/posts/41974463" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">my Patreon blog</a></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaGSB3V5IZf96EFmlWiwaD9tA9FGq6-Pg2dlQr9idr2pjvyo67rpD4WVBvnX-MT1M1qSIMUZBsHsasltsxEQCwij1z7gzu6QtW0obx2MyeEcbdJCbd3oAEyEeFEIj_MbnjZUIwwIJeF0/s1200/Exalted-Art-Challenge-2020-Compilation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaGSB3V5IZf96EFmlWiwaD9tA9FGq6-Pg2dlQr9idr2pjvyo67rpD4WVBvnX-MT1M1qSIMUZBsHsasltsxEQCwij1z7gzu6QtW0obx2MyeEcbdJCbd3oAEyEeFEIj_MbnjZUIwwIJeF0/w640-h334/Exalted-Art-Challenge-2020-Compilation.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The time is neigh, my October Art Challenge approaches! So far, this year has been about allowing myself to rest and recuperate while also letting my muse off the chain to wander different paths for awhile. The next excursion is going to be with the <strong>Exalted Art Challenge</strong> that I created with the <a href="https://discord.gg/2b336yn" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Exalted RPG Discord community</a>!</p><p>For those who don't know <a href="http://theonyxpath.com/category/worlds/exalted/" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Exalted</a>, it's a tabletop roleplaying game much like Dungeons & Dragons where you get to become a character with epic-level powers! It features a world full of mystical places, vengeful gods, and faerie creatures with a rich tapestry of lore to explore. Its roots in non-Western mythology have made it one of my favorite worlds to play in on my days off!</p><p>I've even drawn illustrations and written many words for a story set in this universe entitled <a href="http://theuncrucified.angelasasser.com/" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">The Uncrucified</a>. I've been sorely missing the characters from this story and wanted to get back into the mood of creating in this universe by challenging myself to a list of 31 art topics inspired by this fantastic setting! I expect many characters from my storyworld to show up for this art challenge.</p><p><a href="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/11.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-3520" height="360" src="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/11.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p>I know many of these topics don't make sense to non-players, but I hope to introduce you to them with a bit of explanation and art to go along with each one! In fact, enjoy a little sneak peek of thumbnail sketches for a few of the topics for a taste:</p><p><a href="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/11-1.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-3521" height="528" src="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/11-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p><a href="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/EAC-Sketch-Preview-2.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-3522" height="640" src="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/EAC-Sketch-Preview-2-975x1044.jpg" width="598" /></a></p><p> </p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Patreon-Only Sneak Peeks!</h3><p>Because my Patrons are the coolest, I wanted you guys to feel special during this event! You'll be getting <strong>Patreon-Exclusive Early Access</strong> to my collection of exploratory sketches with my thoughts and notes on the topics each week , while the finished paintings and prose will be shared at The Uncrucified's <a href="https://theuncrucified.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">project blog</a>. A compilation of the finished art will be posted here on Patreon once I've completed all topics! </p><p>For those keeping up on my Patreon Discord Server, I'll be sharing the sketches as they happen in my Ang's Sketchbook channel as well! (Read <a href="https://support.patreon.com/hc/en-us/articles/212052266-Get-my-Discord-role">here </a>for instructions on how to join my Discord Server dedicated to my Patrons and fans)</p><h3>The Goal</h3><p>I'm hoping by doing this event I can create more art in the TTRPG vein which is work I'd like to do more of in the future to channel my long-time passion for gaming! I also plan to experiment with an expressive painterly digital style, since I have been so married to detailed tight line work for a long time now! </p><p>With luck, I can finish all the topics in a month, though I won't be too hard on myself if I can't finish one a day. The big goal is to remember how to play with art again and enjoy the process more than perfectionism!</p><p>--</p><p>I hope you all are ready for the ride! I'm excited to see what happens during this hugely experimental time. Are there any Exalted players here? Sound off in the comments! If you're an artist who loves the game, I invite you to do this challenge with me and share in my Patreon Discord in the dedicated Art Challenges channel! I'd love to see what you all might do for this list!</p><p>More soon. I can't wait to begin!</p><p>♥ Ang</p>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-8074964154246115622020-05-05T17:49:00.002-04:002020-05-05T18:30:59.859-04:00Happy 3 Year Anniversary! + A Big DecisionYesterday, this little project of mine turned 3 years old! It felt like a good time to pop in and let everyone now that this project is NOT DEAD. The Uncrucified has been waylaid once more by my other responsibilities (haaa I just finished running like 4 Kickstarters in a row) with an extra layer of pandemic craziness that seems to be slowing down every facet of my life as an independent artist.<br />
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The Uncrucified has always been in the back of my mind, however! I've been brewing on it and thinking where I want to go and I've made a BIG decision.<br />
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<b>I want to publish this story via the official <a href="https://www.storytellersvault.com/browse.php?filters=0_45735_0_0_0_0" target="_blank">Storyteller's Vault</a>! </b> And not just the story, but also I'd like to create bundles that include the audiobook, homebrew locales, character sheets, items, etc. inspired by this story. I'm so excited by the prospect of having an excuse to draw even more art for this little world within a world I've been putting together here!<br />
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My goal now is to really make this story as polished it can be! I hope to carve out more time to write now that life is slowing down again. I'm also already in talks with a possible editor to help me make this story the best it can be and other folks who love this project who might lend me a hand with creating stat sheets and the like.<br />
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I've also been pondering on launching an Uncrucified-themed Patreon to help me be able to focus on this ambitious endeavor, but that's still a long ways off and I'll need to think about how it might be structured, if it would be worth the extra effort to upkeep, etc. What would you guys like as rewards if I ever did make a Patreon specifically for this project?<br />
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So hang in there, dear readers! This project <i>will </i>rise again. I'm so excited to begin with renewed vigor and new focus!Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-1454564932258718282019-11-11T00:37:00.000-05:002019-11-14T11:29:08.222-05:00Plan of Action + Kalara Fan Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I’ve been quiet again here while I’ve been involved in <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/profile/angelasasser/created" target="_blank">yet another round of Kickstarters</a> for my art business and a most needed vacation! First off, I really want to thank everyone who went through the beta draft of the first arc of this story. You’ve all provided such useful feedback and a great barometer of what I’m trying to accomplish with this undertaking! I wanted to let you know I'm so very grateful and also where I intend to go from here.</div>
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Feedback Summary</h3>
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The most important bit of feedback I got from nearly all of you was that the beginning of this story was very difficult to engage with in the very beginning. In truth, the beginning of this story was the most difficult part to write and I fear it shows! I hadn't quite settled on a POV, if I wanted there to be a glimpse of Future Solar Kalara making observations (a holdover from the pre-Alpha draft written in a 1st person memoir format) or if any other Powers That Be should be mentioned. The result was something rough that needs a fair amount of polish to shine!<br />
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Also, it seemed most readers weren’t opposed to the concept of Auntie Niyan, but so much of the beginning was paraphrased to rush us along to meeting Djali that it felt like a lot of exposition rather than something compelling enough to hook people into the beginning of this story. During my time away, I've also been pondering on how I can fix this.</div>
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How to fix this? The plan so far:</h3>
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<b>More of Kalara’s time in Auntie’s household</b> - I want to expand on this time and immerse readers immediately into this household and into Kalara’s experience there. Auntie was the one who taught Kalara the Immaculate Faith, about clever shrewdness, and eventually about deception. Every master Kalara ever had in her lifetime taught her a skill she would utilize or respect later in life and it only feels proper for Auntie to have taught her something as well.</div>
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<b>Prelude to Asha’s Fate</b> - It probably shows that I invented the character Asha on a whim to show a dark mirror of what Kalara’s fate could’ve been if she were bought by the wrong person. Why not show how she and Kalara bonded earlier before Auntie’s betrayal? Auntie grooming the children for nefarious purposes and Asha’s eventual sale could be what tips Kalara off to Auntie’s duplicitous nature.</div>
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What next?</h3>
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<b>The Beta draft continues!</b> - Instead of making you guys endure yet another rewrite/expansion of the beginning of this story, I’m going to forge ahead and worry about writing it later. I realized that instead of going back to add in Gem as I have, I’m cutting off opportunities for me to forge ahead and realize the flaws in my story structure that only hindsight can grant me.<br />
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So upwards and onwards! Adding the expanded chapters for Gem was a good foundation to build on, but I’m going to leave adding more expansion and improvements for the final rough draft before the FINAL FINAL version of this story, which will also be posted here for your perusal when it's ready for the feedback phase!<br />
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I'll be completely rewriting Kalara's journey through the desert and her time in Chiaroscuro from the Alpha draft and continuing on into the next parts of this story that have never been expanded on from that original memoir before (IE. her time with Ahrun, in the Guild Academy, etc).<br />
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I was writing Alpha and Beta versions of this story in arcs instead of the full and complete story and now I think it would be best if I just barrel through one single Alpha draft including all arcs so that the future events can inform the past events, since that circularity has already happened to me when spontaneous character creation (a la Djali) led to the need to expand upon past events.</div>
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<b>Prepping for Chiaroscuro</b> - Before I wrote Gem, it helped immensely for me to create <a href="http://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/2017/07/visual-guide-city-of-gem.html" target="_blank">a Visual Guide for that location</a>. Making this guide helped me get a better sense of how I wanted to visualize the location and all the tiny little world-building details I might not have thought of without studying the source material and laying down some basics. I want to do the same for the Glittering Desert and Chiaroscuro before I continue writing, which means I’ll be combing through <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/angelicshadow/the-uncrucified/chiaroscuro/" target="_blank">all the reference material I’ve been collecting</a> over the years and making another visual guide like I did for Gem.</div>
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So bear with me, folks! Progress is always slow here because of my day job as an artist that tends to take up all my creative energy, but I haven’t given up on this endeavor yet. I’m determined to make this story happen!</div>
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<b>LET’S DO THIS!</b></div>
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For making it to the end of this post, here’s a treat for you! Behold this adorable fan art of Kalara by <a href="https://twitter.com/theuncrucified/status/1186696466066235392?s=21" target="_blank">Samantha Seaman</a>.</div>
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<i>“Oh did you think I didn’t notice those disreputable dealings? Sorry, darling, but you’ve been outbid! If you have bad luck settling paperwork for unknown reasons for the next 5 centuries, you know who to thank.”</i>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-87216635128503670892019-08-07T11:53:00.000-04:002019-08-08T00:38:19.914-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 8 - The Cost of Dreams<span id="docs-internal-guid-257f5dfd-7fff-29fe-d295-63ac6571e514"></span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-257f5dfd-7fff-29fe-d295-63ac6571e514"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Author’s Note:</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> <i>This chapter marks the end of our time in Gem! I’m excited by how much more of the world we got to see here and to give Kalara a chance to shine as a character rather than an observer. I hope you enjoyed the new material as much as I have enjoyed creating it! Gem is an amazing setting and I hope to revisit it in a future short story sometime.</i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll be taking a break to ruminate on how all of these small changes I’ve made in Gem will affect the rest of this tale and to give new Beta Readers a chance to catch up. Plus, now that we’ll be entering a different location, I’ll be creating a new visual guide for Chiaroscuro to help wrap my brain around all of the locale’s subtleties and how I want to envision it for this story. (If you missed my visual guide to Gem, you can check it out </span><a href="https://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/2017/07/visual-guide-city-of-gem.html" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">here</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!)</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>My gratitude to everyone who has made it this far in the story! Your thoughts and feedback have really helped it improved with every iteration.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">RATING: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> PG</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">- Mature setting.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; white-space: normal;">Reading Alternatives:</b></span></div>
<ul style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">You can comment over on </span><a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lGyrZoIsLeFMl5Oso1bQ7GCoO4wRQayJfDb0g3HkA38/edit?usp=sharing" style="color: #774c00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Google Drive</a><span id="goog_1870523957"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" style="color: #774c00; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><span id="goog_1870523958"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;"> instead. You can save this chapter in an ebook file format for any ereader at the link. Click File>Download As to download in your favorite format.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Access the entire Google Drive version of Beta chapters <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IXEzj7quTAKzJNyUUXMqGGp_8l23la-G?usp=sharing" style="color: #774c00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></li>
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And thus on Plentimon’s Day did the dice roll again. When Kalara returned that evening in a rush, she was prepared to make several excuses as to her tardiness, not to find Farook at home with an unfamiliar man seated at his table.<br />
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“Ah here she is!” Farook rose to greet her with enthusiasm she’d never seen before, a strange exaggerated tone in his voice. “You see? She is as clean and presentable as promised!” She flinched as Farook took the bags from her hands and set them aside. “Girl! Where have you been? Honor our esteemed guest, Lord Varia of House Cynis!” She’d never heard Farook speak so urgently before.</div>
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Stunned at the title of ‘lord’, she did what she had been taught to do, kneeling in obeisance beside their guest with her forehead pressed to the floor and her fingertips touching.</div>
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“M’lord, we are honored!” She managed even as her mind raced. Why was he here? Why was Farook acting so strangely?</div>
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“Kalara was it?” His voice was slurred and she could tell from the smell of raisin and date wine that they’d both been drinking, “Come let the girl up, Farook. No need to scare her!” He spoke with barely accented Firetongue, which was impressive enough for a foreigner. Most visiting nobles from the Realm didn’t seem to care for their language.</div>
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Kalara dared to raise her head, taking in the sight of this guest. His white skin glowed pink with drink from the night’s festivities, his black straight hair pulled into a topknot crowned with a gold loop modeled with clouds and scales, a sign of his standing. Dragon-blooded! The hint of dragon in his gold motif marked him so, his silk tunic showing his House standard for all to see with the brown and green wood sign of House Cynis. A life of pleasantries had left his otherwise fit figure with a hint of a drinker’s belly.</div>
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Noticing her inquisitive gaze, Lord Cynis raised a brow, smiling as he took another sip of his drink and casually waved her closer. </div>
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Kalara reluctantly scooted closer after a brief scolding glare from Farook for her hesitation.</div>
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“Forgive her, lord. I have let her have many freedoms in this household, she is quite slow at times. I was not expecting your visit to this esteemed Iblan workshop after tonight’s festivities-”</div>
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Lord Cynis waved his hand and that was enough to silence Farook. “Tell me, Kalara.” He leaned in close, whispering near her ear as if he were plotting. “Is Farook’s game face as obvious as the Despot’s love of oversized palaces?”</div>
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She stared for a moment. Was a noble of the Realm truly asking such a question?</div>
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“Our great Despot is famed for his love of large palaces, just as my master is skilled at goldsmithing moreso than games...m’lord.” It was the most diplomatic answer she could think of with Farook sitting right there sweating a river and boring holes into the back of her with his eyes. For a moment, she felt herself entranced by this man’s charm, his eyes bright, cheerful, and leaf green even in their low lit dwelling. </div>
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“Ha!” Lord Cynis slapped his thigh, amused at the answer. “And she has a sense of humor as well. My wife will enjoy that. You’ve lost a good one in that game of Gateway, Farook! Have her ready for travel first thing tomorrow. My manservant will make the arrangements.” With that, he downed the remainder of his drink, rose, and turned to leave, Farook quickly falling in tow to mutter assurances.</div>
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Kalara sat on her haunches, frozen as she processed his words. Farook had been gambling tonight, as was his custom during Plentimon’s Day. So blinded was she by Djali’s propositions that she had never even considered the chance that her contract would be lost again during Plentimon’s Day, just as it had before when Spinel had lost her to Farook. She could almost laugh at the irony, considering just yesterday she had been scared of staying in Farook’s household for fear of his terrible son.</div>
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“Wait…!” Kalara managed to blurt out something, anything. “I…if you would, m’lord. Please allow me to honor my former master with one final breakfast in the morning. He has treated me kindly. I would return his kindness one last time!” She bowed in their direction with as much sincerity as she could muster. </div>
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While it wasn’t a complete lie, the time she was buying wasn’t meant for Farook. She needed time to process, to figure out a plan.</div>
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Lord Cynis only shrugged and nodded before making his way out the door, not really seeming to care one way or the other as long as she was delivered.</div>
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Once Farook had said his farewells to their guest, he clasped her hands and patted them briefly, surprised by her sudden affection. “Such is life, girl. Plentimon was not with me today. Such is life. Such is life. You will make a fine slave in a fine household.”</div>
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Kalara only nodded, reminded once again at the value her life represented in the grand scheme of things. For what it was worth, Farook had been as good a master as any slave could hope for. She could give him no more, no less. She helped Farook Iblan into bed that night, the poor man still stumbling from drink. She guided him out of his robes and into his night clothes, brought him water and tucked his sheets as if he were her own elderly father. She gave him his nightly medicines and wondered just briefly what would this hapless man do when he was left with no one to cook his meals, run his errands, and deal with his scheming son?</div>
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It didn’t matter anymore. She was a silly piece of paper, a contract, a mere token to be gambled away in a drunken haze.</div>
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As soon as he was sound asleep, she quickened her pace to her quarters, gathering her meager possessions into one place. Under her bed roll, she’d hidden a small growing collection of money from her marketplace skimmings, a bit of perishable food, and her tiny hopes of escape that had started to grow once more in the fallow ground of Djali’s absence. It was an all too familiar scene. The night beckoned her and so did the path that led to Djali.</div>
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The morning their caravan exited the palace’s grand avenue was a quiet one. Festival trash littered the streets, most citizens still too hungover to be awake yet. A sole priest performed the blessings of travel at the head of the caravan, the leader’s songs echoing back to the rest, all the way back to where even the slaves rode in a barebones wagon pulled by oxen and shaded by thick carpets.</div>
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Kalara sat among them watching the city go by, the joy of the caravan’s songs of good fortune lost on her.</div>
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That morning, she’d prepared a breakfast of Farook’s favorite cheeses and fruits, her master never knowing of her scandalous intent. She’d spent most of her money paying a courier at the marketplace early that morning to transcribe a message that would be delivered to Djali via Old Lady’s Tehsun’s stall, along with a small pouch that contained the rest of her savings and a lock of her hair she’d hastily fashioned into a bracelet with twine and leather.</div>
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She ran the message through her mind over and over, hoping it would be enough.</div>
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<i>Djali,</i></div>
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<i>I have been sold to a new master and am bound for Chiaroscuro immediately. I’ve left you something to remember me by. Our lives could not end any other way. Don’t waste yours finding creative ways to die. Do not look for me. I will not come with you. </i></div>
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<i>Consider this money a deposit towards your freedom. Leave Gem. Make a better place for yourself!</i></div>
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<i>Kallie</i></div>
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Kalara couldn’t bear to have the letter signed with any terms of endearment. This part of her life was over. She would not see anyone else die because they had the foolish notion of upturning the order of the world around them. The sun would rise in the east and set in the west, as it always did, and they would always be slaves or worse, for no kind god of luck and providence ever looked her way except to show her that her life could always be worse if she tried to change it.</div>
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Now, she would be a slave to a Dragon, the embodiment of perfection on earth, the embodiment of what she could only ever hope to be in her next life, or so her Auntie had always told her. She would rather see that path than another one where Djali might die risking himself to run away with her or scheme his stupid schemes that would get him killed sooner or later.</div>
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Wherever she went now, she would comfort herself with the fact that maybe there was the smallest chance in wide Creation that he would take her money and leave Gem where no one would ever find out his crimes against the Despot.</div>
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The light of the sun fell across her eyes, blinding her as the wagon passed through Gem’s main gate, the caravan emerging from the mountain and onto the main trade route beyond. Thus began the months’ long journey to the glass city of Chiaroscuro.</div>
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Kalara had thought that she might cry at leaving everything she knew and loved behind, but she found herself too empty, already parched in mind, body, and spirit before they had even set foot in the desert that spread out before the caravan in a blinding path of black sand that merged into gold on the horizon.</div>
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The city of Gem, the great caldera metropolis that existed as south as people dared to live near the pole of Fire, fell away, slowly, but surely, becoming no more than a black spire in the mountains that rose around them. Battered by blinding light and heat and emptiness, she leaned away from the window letting the carpet slide back into place.</div>
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Kalara let herself doze away to the lull hoofbeats on sand and hoped no dreams would find her ever again.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reader Questions</span></span></h3>
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<li>Congratulations! You made it through Gem! For those who read the Alpha draft, did you find this new material in Gem to be a good addition? The most common feedback I received in the earlier draft was that readers were not invested in Kalara's journey from the start because she was more of a passive observer and her life in Gem was very glossed over. <br /><br />Does this new material make you feel more invested in the story and that she plays a more active role?</li>
<li>Personally, I feel like the first two chapters drag, but I'm not sure how to fix them. Do they need more interesting interactions so they don't drag as much or do I need to cut them entirely?<br /><br />I've pondered adding more scenes with Asha earlier on during their time with Auntie, as Asha is a mirror for Kalara's would-be fate with the Sahlak's. Having more of an emotional attachment would make Asha's scene at the brothel more impactful. I am open to suggestions!<br /><br />The beginning of this story was always the most difficult part to write and I fear that it shows!</li>
<li>Do Kalara's motives to break things off and leave make sense (even if we might not agree with them)?</li>
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Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-46048928308085435912019-07-31T01:15:00.001-04:002019-07-31T13:11:22.520-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Ch. 7 - The Waterbearer's Grave<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"><b>Author's Note:</b> <i>Well, it took me nearly a year to get back in the writing action, but I AM back and I'm glad to be here! <a href="http://www.campnanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">Camp NaNoWriMo</a> has always been a good spur for my Writing Muse, even if I wasn't able to participate every day in July.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"><i>The final part of this arc in Gem has flowed out of the proverbial stylus! The next chapter is already ready to be posted and will be live next week. Let's keep up the momentum! Is anyone still reading? Shout out in the comments and let me know you're alive! Every little bit of encouragement (even just knowing you guys are lurking here) helps keep an author going.</i></span></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-indent: 0px;">RATING: </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-indent: 0px;"> PG-13</span></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Reading Alternatives:</b><br />
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">You can comment over on </span><a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Zic4JHzQyr_GscdYppjaADucr3_oBm_fX_FeH-1xyl8/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Google Drive</a><span id="goog_1870523957"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1870523958"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;"> instead. You can save this chapter in an ebook file format for any ereader at the link. Click File>Download As to download in your favorite format.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Access the entire Google Drive version of Beta chapters <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IXEzj7quTAKzJNyUUXMqGGp_8l23la-G?usp=sharing" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Kalara sighed deeply as she paused a block before Old Lady Tehsun</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">’s stall in the market and tightened her shawl across her face, fidgeting nervously. What on earth was she doing here? She’d barely gotten any sleep, her mind racing with the unpleasant possibilities in her future in Farook’s household that were nearly as unpleasant as the possibilities of associating with an idiot jewel thief. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The memory of Ragol’s breath still on her neck when she woke up that morning and his attentive gaze as she prepared breakfast was enough to drive her to this foolish meeting. She’d slipped away under the guise of her usual chores, which Farook never watched too carefully while he pursued his own toils in the workshop. Ragol had thankfully excused himself to his own business, no doubt to find an open gambling house or opal den.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">When Djali spotted her, his face lit up and he stuffed the entirety of a half-eaten stick of roasted goat into his mouth and waved her over excitedly. Kalara suppressed another sigh before heading over to him, only to be immediately greeted with the offering of goat on a stick.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Don’t say anything, just enjoy this perfectly seasoned meat!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">He always knew how to distract her from her chidings. The offering of yogurt and spice smothered meat saved him from an immediate verbal thrashing as he guided them into a side alley hidden away from the prying eyes of passersby. From a hidden cache he produced a pair of dark glass shades and placed them on her face before she could protest. Next, he pulled out a white cloak, flaring it out and laying it over her shoulders, then set about wrapping her scarf correctly for her so that it wouldn</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’t be lost to the wind.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Kalara only stared at him while he set about his strange work, eating her kabob slowly. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“You have until I finish this last bit to explain what in Creation you’re up to…”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“You want to see the sun, don’t you? Trust me, you’ll be thankful of all this when we’re in the Sun Market!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“HA! The Sun Market!” She laughed at first, but then she couldn’t help but wonder. “…can you really get us into the Sun Market?” She’d heard low talk of the place in the main street bazaar. It was the place where sorcerers found virgin’s tears for their rituals, where one could buy the most dangerous delicacies, where the great Kolar’s eyes did not deign to look. When most of the citizens of the upper levels hid from the sun during the hottest part of the day, those eager souls who braved the heat could find their black market desires fulfilled in the Sun Market. Even if it was only the surface of the caldera the city was nestled in, it was still a layer above the underground she’d lived in for the better part of her life. The notion of visiting intrigued her, even while her common sense screamed in the back of her mind.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Pleased with his work, Djali ignored any protests and waved her onwards with a glint in his eye and a self-assured dazzle of a smile. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Come, come! All will be revealed!” </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Kalara begrudgingly followed him as he ducked through unfamiliar alleys to the outer lava tubes. A lump of nervousness caught in her throat at a sudden flash of emotion. Had it been so long ago that they had been doing this very same thing to escape to the city? Surely someone would stop them again. Surely horrible consequences awaited. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Certain of his path, Djali led ever onwards till they reached a small dim entryway where a city sentry leaned. Just beyond him lay an access way with footfalls meant for maintenance workers to reach the upper mine paths that wound throughout the caldera.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“My man!” Djali smiled and tossed him a coin in one smooth motion. “Say hello to Rajina for me. Buy her something nice!” He winked, pulling Kalara by the hand before she had time to ask any questions about the exchange.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“He’s an old friend from the waterbearers.” Djali explained as they briskly surmounted the foot paths before anyone questioned their easy passing. “His sister has a bad injury. Foot crushed from a cave in. Needs constant looking after, which means constant bills…oof!” He grunted as he pulled himself up by each handhold. Maybe she was right about the sweets getting to him after all. He peered back to check how Kalara was fairing, but was pleased to find her surmounting the footfalls with relative ease.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Uh huh…and how big was this poor sweet sister’s breasts?” She called up to him, feigning doubt in Djali’s noble motives.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Heh…such facts do not affect my generosity.” Djali returned with half-feigned reverence. “Besides, is that a hint of jealousy I detect?” He asked without looking back at her.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Pftt…” Kalara’s eyeroll in response was almost audible, but her lack of a retort was almost an answer. For a moment, they were children again, the two playfully sniping at one another like they used to before they’d been separated. Anything to make the hard climb go faster and soothe her nerves.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">As they surmounted the edge that opened out into the rocky shadows of the caldera</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s great rim, the light that fell across her vision nearly blinded her even with the aid of the shades Djali had provided. A great bowl of black rock stretched out around them, capped by a blistering white expanse of sky. The skeletons of dilapidated houses pocked the miniature plateaus tucked inside the massive bowl. At the heart of the cluster of houses, a gathering of banners and canopies flapped in the wind, a beacon of color amidst a ruin of gray that shimmered in the wind with the heat.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Kalara hummed a lullaby absent-mindedly as she soothed herself, thinking of half-forgotten lyrics of the sun</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s gaze, life-giving and unforgiving at once. So this was the sunlight she had imagined all her life, that she’d sketched on the wall of her bunk when she dreamed of the world beyond Gem, beyond the city-volcano. In the middle of the caldera, the spire of the Despot’s palace rose even here, thrusting skywards from deep underground, a massive construction of polished stone carved and kept by generations of craftsmen.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">It was beautiful for a few fleeting moments in the shade until the heat of the exposed landscape under the oppressive noon sun made it unbearable. She felt like she was cooking in her clothes in a stew of her own sweat and juices.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">And this wasn</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’t even Ascending Fire, yet! She felt a pang of pity for the poor souls they passed huddled in the withered cities filled with citizens of Gem who couldn’t afford the more temperate housing below in the mountain’s lava tubes. Every year, they held prayer mass after each Ascending Fire to soothe the souls of those who died from sheer exposure in droves or caught a plague from the lack of cleanliness and infrastructure in the haphazard construction of the upper slums.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Not unlike the faceless veiled bodies that she remembered as her mother and father. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The smells and heat of this place lit a small ember of memory and she shuddered, chilled to the bone even in the heat.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Thankfully, there was plenty to distract Kalara</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s mind from weary memories once they neared the market. The shade of the canopies barely offered any respite, but that didn’t seem to bother Djali. He sauntered confidently onwards, chatting casually with the merchants along the way. He had done this many times. The canopies of the stalls blocked out the light, each stall enclosed by thick hanging carpets acting as makeshift walls against the bright and the wind. Each one held a different wonder.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">In one purple tint with gold tassels, Kalara spied a woman with tattooed hands selling all colors of vials and scarves.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“This one is for love…and this one is for a painful death! You never know when you will be in need of both.” She winked at Kalara as she passed, her blue eyelashes fluttering, the peddler covered in sheer cobalt blue wraps that covered the lower half of her face accentuating the heavy khol around her eyes.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Finally, it seemed Djali had found who he was looking for in a stall somewhat removed from the others. An old man sat amongst a myriad of glass vials filled with a light yellow fluid smoking a pipe. He wore a pair of black glasses, one lens left out as it sat above an eye covered completely by his turban, the other eye bright and attentive under the remaining lens. He perked up immediately when he spotted Djali, puffing his pipe enthusiastically before greeting him with a grunt that seemed to bely his twinkling eye.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Aaah venerable grandfather! You are looking well!” Djali spread his arms wide, though the merchant only huffed in greeting and spat black tar onto the ground. Meanwhile, Kalara was gawking in disgust as she realized the merchant was selling re-purposed urine as drinking water.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Aww..but I am happy to see you. I’ve brought you a present today, as promised. Something to ease your twilight years.” From his cloak, Djali produced a plain pouch, dumping an assortment of hard candies into his palm. He held one up to the light as he spoke.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“This one I hear will bring pleasant dreams and also tastes of peach.” The sun glinted through the candy, a brilliant flash of light catching in the exceedingly lovely piece of crystalline sugar.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“And this one tastes of nectarine and will warm your bones at night, but you may want to keep it in the wrapper so it doesn’t melt. Once our ‘cousins’ have a taste of this stock. I’d be happy to deliver more delights!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Kalara continued to watch, lucky that the scarf and turban around her head hid her slackjaw as Djali passed the bag of extremely illegal gems hidden inside of simple candies to the merchant, who in return slipped him small bags of what she assumed was compensation. Djali deftly counted and bit each metal piece before nodding and slipping them away into his robes. When the merchant</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s one good eye turned to her, suspicious at having a witness, Djali interceded swiftly.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“My assistant. Don’t pay him any mind. He’s a mute simpleton, but he’s good at carrying things.” At that, Djali tossed her a small, but weighty bag she barely managed to catch on such short notice. Keeping up the act, Kalara nodded and bowed sheepishly without answering, thankful that Djali had thought far enough ahead not to tie her in any way to this very exceedingly illegal transaction of Kolar’s precious gems. First, by covering her from head to toe, and second by not referring to her true gender at all.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The old man,whom Djali addressed as Larz, seemed pleased as far as she could tell, but didn</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’t buy the entire stock at once. “Bring more tomorrow. I’ll have more currency then once our ‘cousins’ hear of your reliability as a…dutiful family member.”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">And with that, they had sold a bag of unmarked gems belonging to their illustrious ruler, the divine Kolar III. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Kalara waited until they were a distance away from the market before the flurry of panicked questioning began.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Are you out of your small </span><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">mind</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">?? Candy?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">” She flailed an arm in frustration.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Tsh tsh! Calm down or you’ll look suspicious.” Djali quieted her with a casual hand wave, Kalara falling in line behind him, even though she was equal parts seething and stewing beneath her clothing as they made their way back to the workman’s path. She had been admittedly curious before, but now she had returned to her previous assumption that he was being incredibly foolish. There was no time to bid farewell to the wonder of the Sun Market, no time to think about the sad state of things anymore. Djali had gone insane!</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“What will you do if they catch him and make him talk?” She interrogated from the footfalls as they descended.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Shoosh! We’ll talk more when we get down. The sound carries too far in this tunnel. Tunnels have ears!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Oh she could just strangle him at being shooshed, but she managed to stay quiet until they were right at the bottom.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“You know the penalty is death…or worse! You can’t be that stupid, Djali. Think!” She was stepping off the final slope, her gaze fixed on him as she tried to explain what would happen if he stayed on this path. She ran into him as he snapped to a sudden stop, quickly raising a hand to quiet her.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">But it was too late. The sentry who manned the passage had noticed them..and it wasn</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’t Djali’s old acquaintance!</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“You there!” The guard sprang into action immediately, a spear trained on Djali who had placed himself squarely in front of Kalara.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Djali immediately shifted into a non-threatening pose with his hands open and raised. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Ho, friend! We’re just passing through from the mark—” He didn’t have time to finish before he found himself grabbed by the front of his shirt and pressed into a wall face first, a couple of the bags he had on his person went falling to the floor, spilling the remainder of the candies, for all to see. “You, stay where you are! Nobody was scheduled to go through this passage today.” The guard barked at Kalara too, who had frozen like a wild animal, her heart beating in her ears.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The gems were right there for all to see, for anyone to discover. It would only take one of them to crack or be mistakenly eaten or inspected too closely! Then they were dead, both dead. Boiled alive. Tossed in a pit. Hung before the Despot</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s entire court! </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Before Kalara could even process the words, she blurted out a firm yell. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“How dare you, unhand him!” She feigned indignation with the sudden courage of a thousand envisioned executions, pulling off her scarf to reveal her shawl and hair, despite the fact the shades still being on her person no doubt made her look ridiculous.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“This is the kitchen boy of chef Atin al Zabas ahn Talan and you’ve just interrupted the private delivery of special ingredients from the Sun Market! You dare! Buffoon!” Kalara spoke with the heated indignation of a thousand unruly customers she’d watched in the market and with the knowledge she’d gleaned from countless days of people-watching at her favorite stall. Atin al Zabas ahn Talan was known far and wide for his delicacies cooked in the open air of the marketplace and delivered to all manner of nobles and merchants, even the Despot, himself. He was known for his strange demands and even stranger ideas, like yogurt-smothered goat encased artfully in gelatin that one could only eat at sunset.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">She spoke with such conviction that she believed it in that moment. Djali was now Atin al Zabas ahn Talan</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s kitchen boy and she, his assistant overseeing the transaction and delivery. She was familiar enough with the vendors from her previous experience in food runs for Spinel and for Farook to sell the act.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">She must have seemed quite believable because the guard looked from her to Djali, who had also been struck silent by her sudden exposition, then stepped away, letting him up. Why else would two people be carrying around so much candy and money from the Sun Market? Any other explanation than what she provided made no sense or was too simple.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Aah..a misunderstanding I’m sure!”Djali dusted himself off and smiled non-chalantly in his pleasant, easygoing manner. “The previous sentry was fully aware of our passing. He had an emergency, perhaps?”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“No harm done then!” Djali bent to pick up his belongings, pretending not to be panicked at the sight of the gems out in the open while Kalara kept the guard distracted.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“No harm??? This fool nearly cost Atin al Zabas ahn Talan several most magnificent delicacies to such a foolish thing as dirt!” She kept rambling on, blinding the confused guard with what was becoming incomprehensible indignation the longer they went on. Eventually, the poor young man excused himself, bowing, and letting them pass.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“I will keep your name from his blacklist!” Kalara shouted after him as he left.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Once he was gone and they were alone, Djali erupted with laughter. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Hoo that was too close!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Yes, it was!” Kalara wasn’t laughing as she whipped around, shoving a finger into his face. “Take your damned money, it’s obviously worse than your life!” She shoved the bag he’d tossed at her earlier into his chest and stormed off. She’d had enough of reunions, sunlight, and foolish plans for a lifetime in one day!</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Though she had to admit to herself as she walked away, the adrenaline pumping through her and the sheer fact that she could spin such a wildly stupid lie felt good and she cracked a small smile she made sure to hide from him on their way back. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“I’m in the shit now, aren’t I?” Djali offered. There came no reply. The tapping continued.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Admit it…you’re impressed.” Djali prodded, inching closer and kneeling in front of her, his hands settling on her knees, testing his safety and keeping in mind the escape routes if his hunch was incorrect.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“And you were amazing!” He beamed proudly. “Just like old times!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">She couldn</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’t hold back the smile. “You…ass. This is no time to think of something stupid like that!” It was too late for him to dodge the pillow attach that smacked him upside the head. The satisfying whack it made against his skull set her to laughing and cursing at the unreality of it all. “My gods and Dragons and hells…we really stole from Kolar! Hey-!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Caught off guard, she squeaked when Djali retaliated by lifting her up by the waist and swirling her around. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“You see?” He laughed at her amused panic and set her down, bringing his hands up to her cheeks. “We’re together again, this means we can do it! We’re a team!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The feel of his calloused hands on her cheeks felt nice, a gentle touch instead of a dreaded one. She closed her eyes to savor it, wishing against everything within herself that she could be lost in that enthusiasm, in that touch, forever in that single moment without acknowledging the cruel logic of a world that moved inexorably around them.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“I can buy your contract. Don’t you see? I’ll buy your contract and we’ll take a caravan far away from here. We’ll see the glass towers of Chiaroscuro. We’ll swim in the blue bay!” Djali studied her face as she sighed, still smiling, hopeful,…until she spoke again.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Djali…no.” Her hand covered his and her eyes opened, searching his. “This is foolish. This is suicide…and I can’t watch you die again. Don’t you understand? Isn’t this better? I can still visit…”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Her words seemed like a slap and his easy smile fled as he pulled back, turning away from her to lean against the cave wall with one arm as he stared into the space between the stones. He was silent a few long moments where she thought he would send her away.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“No, suicide is staying where I am. I will not be another faceless body in a shallow grave. Better to try for greatness than die like…that.” The tenseness of his shoulders belied a horrible memory she could read in his body language. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“…every time a waterbearer fell, they’d dig a hole beside the path and throw them in. They’d light a candle, say a word, if someone even remembered your name.” There came a long sigh drawn from somewhere deep within that memory. “I want to die on my feet trying to be somebody!”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The change in demeanor shocked Kalara silent for a long while. Neither of them spoke. It seemed that silence would last forever until he felt the warmth of her embrace and her arms wrapped around him, her cheek pressed against his back.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Promise me one thing, Kallie, if I can’t convince you to come with me.” He was half serious, half joking again. “We’ll be rich when we find each other in the next life, eh?” They both laughed half-heartedly, Kalara holding him a moment longer.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Don’t you have to go soon? Your master will get suspicious…” Djali sighed, resigned to the fate that he’d either need more time to convince her or simply not wanting her to go at this moment in time, or both.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Djali…” Kalara pulled him softly by one wrist so that she could look him in the eye. When he turned to her, longing, confusion, and frustration twisted in his features, she couldn’t help but smile. She knew she wanted to stay, that she wanted him to be the one to take from her what Ragol or any master was due to in her near future. She only hoped he wanted the same.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“…he doesn’t own me right here. Right now. This is what I choose </span><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">right now</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">. This is my fate <i>right now</i>.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">” She kissed him. Deeply. Not letting a breath escape between them.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">And with that kiss, the world and its logic began to melt away, the both of them lost in the idea of each other they had been aware of, but not quite sure of until that moment. Djali pulled her to him, certain he</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’d never let her go. They found themselves fumbling foolishly, passionately, lost in the mass of pillows in Djali’s makeshift kingdom.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">For that brief time, they enjoyed a world inhabited by the two of them, their bodies their own and each other</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’s at once. For that brief time, they knew a freedom they had never known before in their brief lives.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">When the sound of prayers and bells ringing in sundown filtered down to them sometime later, Kalara awoke with a start. She</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’d be late for sure! The momentary panic subsided at the sight of Djali’s contented smile on his sleeping face. A real, genuine smile. Not an easy or a fake one. The oaf was fast asleep after their short, but enthusiastic lovemaking, his wavy hair a mess and a line of drool down the side of his chin. She planted a kiss on his forehead and said her farewells.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“I have to go back, but I’ll see you tomorrow, buffoon. Maybe then we can work on a better plan if you insist on doing something so dangerous.”</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">A grunt and half mumbled. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Right” served as acknowledgment. Kalara let her hand linger on his cheek a moment longer before gathering her things and dashing down the tunnel. She knew the way this time, knew how to find him again tomorrow. A small glimmer of something unknown bloomed in her heart - hope.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Perhaps he could buy her contract in time if they were very careful? If they only took small things, perhaps nobody would notice? They could leave to Paragon, where even slaves could be given property and money if they pledged their love to the city. Or perhaps Chiaroscuro? She</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">’d always wanted to see the city of glass and the wide plain of gold they said was in the middle of it.</span></div>
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A thousand small plans and possibilities flashed through her mind as she went about her evening tasks gathering dinner ingredients. The laughter in the streets and festival lanterns reminded her it’d probably be a late night with Farook out gambling into the evening with his comrades, as was their custom for Plentimon’s Day. Masked revelers wearing effigies of the starry countenance of the Plentimon laughed and danced through the streets, creating a path of silver smiles for her way home. She smiled with them, an expression she hadn’t dedicated herself too in a long time.<br />
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Reader Questions:</b></div>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Was Djali's jewel heist believable? I'm having a hard time thinking up an alternative. I feel like something this stupidly clever fits him, but am curious if it throws you all out of your suspension of disbelief.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Is Kalara's chatty diversion of the guard to aid their escape believable? I couldn't think of better ways to extradite them from the situation, while also giving Kalara a more active role in events.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">How's my romance scene? I feel like such a cheeseball writing it and I'm hoping I didn't get too saccharine or melodramatic with it!</span></li>
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Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-30222748336162729062019-06-06T15:18:00.000-04:002019-06-06T15:36:18.962-04:00Hard Times + Art Catch Up!It'll be almost a year now since I've written a chapter of The Uncrucified and that makes me feel monumentally sad! It was about this time last year that everything just went wrong. My husband was diagnosed with a rare form of Hodgkin's Lymphoma, which put a stop to everything.<br />
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Even when we got out of the gauntlet of surgeries and treatments and finally celebrated my husband being in remission about a month ago, we had been simultaneously saddled with medical debt and a level of stress that absolutely crushed the creativity and energy out of my life. I really couldn't do much more than what was required of me so when I finally had spare time to pay attention to my personal projects, I just couldn't get motivated.<br />
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This story fell by the wayside and while I want to finish it and have visions of where I want it to go, now I'm wondering if anyone out there is still interested? My motivation has been at an all-time low...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">...So if you're out there and you give a damn about this story, let me know? Any little light of encouragement (and especially anyone willing to leave much-needed feedback) will help me rekindle that spark for it!</span><br />
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<h3>
Art Catchup</h3>
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There HAVE at least been some art developments for this project that I forgot to share here, so at least it's not all doom and gloom eh? Behold all the art I forgot to post here in the past year or so!<br />
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Character Sheet: Kalara Vadras</h3>
Kalara's gotten some fan love in the community in the past, so I finally did this sheet a long while ago to help collect all of her visual odds and ends for easy reference!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8ca3c796-5c30-4408-abd4-b74458ddd2a3/dbvr95l-e36fc348-cfcc-4bb1-8af4-30d56d2fcbc0.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzhjYTNjNzk2LTVjMzAtNDQwOC1hYmQ0LWI3NDQ1OGRkZDJhM1wvZGJ2cjk1bC1lMzZmYzM0OC1jZmNjLTRiYjEtOGFmNC0zMGQ1NmQyZmNiYzAuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.yZk0xAzdcVv2uU9K2DOG09XrYBl3Ih7ulCQxo9vvfyA" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8ca3c796-5c30-4408-abd4-b74458ddd2a3/dbvr95l-e36fc348-cfcc-4bb1-8af4-30d56d2fcbc0.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzhjYTNjNzk2LTVjMzAtNDQwOC1hYmQ0LWI3NDQ1OGRkZDJhM1wvZGJ2cjk1bC1lMzZmYzM0OC1jZmNjLTRiYjEtOGFmNC0zMGQ1NmQyZmNiYzAuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.yZk0xAzdcVv2uU9K2DOG09XrYBl3Ih7ulCQxo9vvfyA" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see a complete detailed biography of Kalara + a gallery of references <a href="https://refsheet.net/angelasasser/kalara-vadras-the-uncrucified" target="_blank">here</a>!</td></tr>
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You can also watch a time lapse of how I made this sheet here:<br />
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<br />Khazan by Jadehand</h3>
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A character you haven't met in the story yet is Khazan, the Starless Dragon, a Fire Aspect bandit who becomes a mentor of sorts for Khalara during her fledgling Solar days! I've actually written out a good deal of their story in the unpublished sequel created during NaNoWriMo of long ago that inspired me to go back and rewrite The Uncrucified, so consider this a teaser of things to come if I can ever finish this prequel story! You can like Jadehand's tumblr post of this art <a href="https://jadehand.tumblr.com/post/181231246295/happy-holidays-theuncrucified-also" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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I love how Jadehand gave him an over the top beard and a cheesy dad presence. It fits him perfectly!</div>
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Character Biographies</h3>
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If you just want to be spoiled on what happens in this story and want to have fun getting to know some of the characters from it, I've gone ahead and created in-depth character biographies as references over at Refsheet. Enjoy! Ye have been spoiler warned!</div>
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<ul>
<li><a href="https://refsheet.net/angelasasser/kalara-vadras-the-uncrucified" target="_blank">Character Biography - Kalara Vadras</a></li>
<li><a href="https://refsheet.net/angelasasser/khazan" target="_blank">Character Biography - Khazan, the Starless Dragon</a></li>
<li><a href="https://refsheet.net/angelasasser/laughing-fox" target="_blank">Character Biography - Laughing Fox</a></li>
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Exalted Art Challenge</h3>
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In an effort to pull myself back into Exalted and get motivated for this story, I'm considering trying to do the 30 day art challenge I created with the help of the Exalted community. Perhaps I could share my progress here to bring some new life to this blog? Would that be something you all would be interested in?</div>
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That's all I have for now! Things have been looking up in life with my husband's improving health, a new job, and a relief from all the stress. I really hope it won't be another year before I can come back to this project fresh and fluffy and ready to show the world the awesomeness of a Solar learning they can change the world AND punch gods in the face! </div>
Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-32583535100047073202018-07-20T11:30:00.000-04:002019-08-08T11:36:28.917-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 6 - Loaded Die<b>Author's Note: </b><i>GASP! It's another chapter in less than a month before posting the last one? I'm totally smothering you guys! I seem to have found my groove with this story after putting it through the <a href="https://www.aerogrammestudio.com/2013/03/22/the-story-spine-pixars-4th-rule-of-storytelling/" target="_blank">Story Spine Exercise</a> suggested by <a href="https://amzn.to/2LaDc0N" target="_blank">Invisible Ink from Brian MacDonald</a>. This exercise forced me to really think about what exactly I wanted to convey with this story. What lesson am I trying to teach? How does Kalara evolve and where is she going to end up at the end of her full character arc? Does she even have an arc?</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>She's long existed in my mind as a cautionary tale (as most Solars do in my opinion) against the danger of attaining power and becoming too focused on what she views as noble causes. These early chapters are the stage setting for what really drives her later on in life when she tries to forge herself into being everything she wasn't before.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>The Plot Spine exercise also made me realize I'm going to have to diverge from the story of the campaign that inspired her, but more about that later. Without further ado, on to the chapter!</i><br />
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<b>RATING: </b> PG-13<br />
- Suggestive content.<br />
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<b>Reading Alternatives:</b><br />
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<li>Comment on <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Tj2rYjDCcWDgsd87vR8WvNC1KxICVcQQH2AGyHBw_R8/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Google Drive</a> instead. You can save this chapter in an ebook file format for any ereader at the link. Click File>Download As to download in your favorite format.</li>
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<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Access the entire Google Drive version of Beta chapters <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IXEzj7quTAKzJNyUUXMqGGp_8l23la-G?usp=sharing" style="color: #774c00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></li>
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Once again, Kalara found herself moving breathlessly through the tunnels, hurried along by Djali’s fast pace. He navigated with ease through the dark, deft as ever, pulling her by the hand when her pace wasn’t satisfactory. These weren’t the familiar and welcoming tunnels of the gem district of the market anymore, but the seedier corners further away from the eyes of the city guard. Dreamstone addicts slept in messy corners, while less reputable salesman roamed the streets peddling unsavory wares. She might have been more worried if she were with anyone else, if she wasn’t so caught up in the glow he brought back into her life.<br />
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He’s alive. He’s alive! Happy tears were still drying on her face when they finally ducked into a crevice, Djali bidding her to be careful as they made their way into a barely perceptible crag that led upwards into a cleverly hidden passageway rimmed with stalactites. Djali removed a straight piece of glass from his pocket, peering through it to reveal a glowing vein of some unknown mineral that marked the entrance she never would have noticed.<br />
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“And here we are!” He guided Kalara through the entryway so she wouldn’t hit her head on the low arc of it.<br />
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She stood agape at the cavern that opened up before her after that tight entry. He’d made a home for himself here out of an air pocket that had formed a small self-contained lava tube. This might’ve been prime real estate if it wasn’t so far from the main tubes! She watched in awe as he moved about the cave, lighting a hearth in the middle with a small Firestone and humming as he set up a little pot to make tea. The light from the stone illuminated woven carpets and a bed of straw strewn with quilts and fine pillows.<br />
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One by one, he lit metal lanterns with small glowstones pulled from his satchel, finally turning to her and setting his hands on his waist, nodding as he let her take in the sight of his little abode. It was the same proud pose he’d taken the first day she’d arrived in the mining barracks a scared little girl confused by how proud he was of their sorry little bunks.<br />
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Kalara perused the dwelling, mouth still agape. How could a slave have all of this? She turned to him, Djali still beaming. “I see you look well…” She started slowly. “…and you’ve gotten…bigger.” She poked his belly, laughing as he swatted at her hand, feigning offense.<br />
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“Hey! So have you!” He grinned, plucking a blade of hair from her face and running it between his fingers so it stood straight up from her head like the rest of her fiery feathers of henna red hair. “You’ve gotten…taller!”<br />
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They both stood for a few moments, regarding one another, too scared to ask questions about the years that had passed and noticing, too, the things about the both of them that had changed. He was no longer a child, but a young man, lithely muscular, skin darkened several more shades from exposure to the sun, no doubt from his trials among the water bearers. He had fresh scars on the back of his hands as well, no doubt from discipline.<br />
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Kalara had changed too. She was taller, more feminine, finally losing some of her boyishness to the blessings of maturity and developing in ways he'd always made fun of her for being lacking in. She still had the same serious glare that would temper his antics, even as she took part in them against her better judgement. She used to wear her hair shorter, but now it had grown long and wild, the longest strands bound at the nape of her neck bound with leather and beads in a braid.<br />
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There were so many things she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t manage any of them. She stammered wordlessly, instead just stepping forward and catching him in a tight embrace, the floodgates of emotion finally coming down now that she had a chance to begin processing them.<br />
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“I’m so sorry…it’s…it’s my fault you were taken!” She smothered the snotty words into his chest.<br />
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The sudden onslaught took him by surprise for a moment and he grinned sadly to himself, gently returning her embrace. “Heh…come on now. Did you really think someone as charming as me would be claimed by barbarians? I’ve returned after becoming their king to let our glorious Despot, Kolar, know of my greatness!”<br />
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At that, Kalara looked up from sobbing into his chest and gave him a perturbed glare. How could he still be so damned cheery after what happened? The glare slid off him like oil. Unphased, he moved to retrieve the little teapot from above the firestone-powered hearth and poured the water over a spherical sieve filled with leaves. The smell of mint and chamomile tempted her from her bad mood. She accepted the cup and sank back into one of the big pillows with a sigh. Tea made everything better.<br />
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“You still like sweets?” He produced a confection from a box. Kalara knew the smell of sugared dates anywhere. Candy made everything better, too. She sat enjoying these luxuries quietly for a few moments, happy to put off the tough conversation for a bit longer and accept his surprisingly decadent hospitality.<br />
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Djali sat across from her in a wicker seat with a cushion, a woven throne for the supposed new king of the barbarians, and chewed his own candied delights with a carefree hum. He was the one to break the awkward silence first.<br />
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“So you’re not with Sahlak after all?” Despite his carefree demeanor, Djali phrased the question with care. “I’m glad. That place wasn’t for you. I bet she was a total yeddim after all. I’ve heard stories that she shapeshifts her ugly old face.” He drew his face downward with his fingers, pulling on his cheeks to imitate the way she probably looked in an effort to cut the tension.<br />
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“-look.” Kalara set her tea down forcefully, cutting him off. “I’m so happy to see you. I really am...” The glare was back. “…but of the two of us, I thought you were dead and I’d really like to know what happened to you first. Please? I thought…I thought you were dead and it was all my fault…but now you’re here and…what is all of this??” Her fingers tensed around the cup and she stared up at him with an angry, pleading gesture.<br />
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He sat silently sipping for a few moments, his usual expression falling into an introspective mask, his gaze lost in the past as he considered what to say.<br />
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“I got shipped off to the waterbearers. I’m sure they told you…” He started carefully, speaking with a nonchalant tone. “..but you have to understand that was my choice. I wanted you to be safe and you were.” He took another sip of tea and sucked his teeth at the memories. “It was grueling work. We carried the water by yeddim from the basin to the city every day. But oh you should have seen the surface, Kallie! If you ignore the hot as death part, the storms are amazing when they come. All wind and sand and excitement!”<br />
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Despite her guilt at having a part in his suffering, Kalara couldn’t help but listen with rapt attention. She’d always wanted to see the surface. She had almost forgotten her amateur scribbles of the sun on the wall of her bunk.<br />
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“I managed for …three Calibrations, I think? Hmph…they didn’t appreciate my sense of humor, though.” Djali held up one hand, pulling back his sleeve and showing off the lashes that went from the back of his hand up his forearm. This pattern repeated up his other arm as well. “The foreman was a humorless man, but I soon learned many useful things about him. I have big ears, after all, and I overheard many things. He had friends among the raiders, you see? He’d swap goods with them sometimes in exchange for leaving our particular route alone. He’d tell them little tidbits about guard rotations.”<br />
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Kalara’s mouth began to fall open without her realizing it. “The raid! He was helping them?”<br />
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“Helping is a strong word.” Djali shrugged his shoulders. “He knew the Ashen Guard would squash them soon enough. There’s always another headstrong tribe ready to replace the ones foolish enough to lay siege who are content to live off of the city’s leavings.”<br />
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She was shocked silent again. Kalara absently drank her tea while he continued.<br />
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“The foreman is also a very bitter man. His family had been banished to the duty of waterbearer for generations since Rankar’s reign. He has no love of Kolar and so, as humorless as he is, he was not so foolish as to not find a use for someone such as myself with intimate knowledge of Iblan deposits. It only took a little test to show him that I could deliver what I promised.” At that statement, he took an inconspicuous bag from his waist and set it on the table, undoing the drawstrings and allowing the contents to scatter across the little rug between them.<br />
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Unmarked raw gems spread between them, some glowing, some emerald, some giving off a slight heat, others glimmering with the promise of the dreams that waited to be held within them. They were all small finds, but all still worth a lot in large quantities, or to tribesman who wanted firestones for long trips and cold nights in the desert or to trade for goods elsewhere.<br />
<br />
The sight of these stolen gems hit her like a hot poker directly to the brain and she dropped her cup, choking on her tea at the sudden intake of breath. When she could finally breathe again, her eyes full of tears, disbelief, and anger all at once, she brought her hands to her temples and yelled at him.<br />
<br />
“You’re stealing gems from the Despot? By every small god, dragon, and the Holy Rankar…I can’t even!” She couldn’t sit. This revelation required furious pacing.<br />
<br />
“Are you crazy? No wonder you have all of this! Don’t you realize you could be executed for this you monumental <i>idiot</i>?” By the end of it, she was literally shaking him by his shirt while he held up his hands in the air and laughed.<br />
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“Crazy! You have to be crazy. Did the sun bake your brain? I can’t.” She pressed a finger to her temple at the pain of realizing she was going to lose her best friend all over again because he was a stupid, greedy idiot. “I’m leaving!” With that, she huffed and turned away, marching to the doorway. Only the sound of his uncharacteristically serious voice stopped her.<br />
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“Wait! I promise. It’s not as foolish as it seems! Kallie, please! Please wait!”<br />
<br />
She could feel his pleading gaze and didn’t want to turn around to meet it for fear looking at him might weaken her resolve.<br />
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“Come meet me midday at the fried goat stall Old Lady Tehsun runs at midday tomorrow and I’ll show you everything. I’ll show you the sun!”<br />
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Intrigued as she was by the strange promise, she wouldn’t justify his stupidity by turning to face him or by replying. She had to get home soon. There was dinner to be made and medicine to prepare. She left him without a word. She was too angry and stubborn to ask for his help finding her way back and eventually she found her way through the winding cavern to the dim light of the outer market on her own.<br />
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*<br />
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<br />
Kalara was fully prepared to drown her frustrations in the usual monotony of Farook’s routine, but when she arrived, something was different. She found a visitor seated in the parlor, his hawk-like gaze trained on her as soon as she entered. This sudden interruption in the routine stopped her in her tracks.<br />
<br />
“Eh…you’re the slave, yes?” He nodded in her direction, seemingly annoyed at her timing. “My father is sleeping after the festivities. Do you have enough for a guest?” He motioned at the supplies in her arms.<br />
<br />
“Y-yes, of course!” Kalara fumbled for a moment realizing their guest was none other than the estranged son she’d heard so many rants about. She quickly moved into the kitchen to prepare a meal, the son’s dark eyes following her as she moved. She’d heard no word to expect his visit, but perhaps Farook had summoned him? His health had been ailing more often lately. Maybe he had gotten sentimental?<br />
<br />
She didn’t have more time to ponder to herself when she realized she had an audience. The son, Ragol, if she recalled his name correctly, had infiltrated the kitchen, swiping some bread from the counter and tearing off a chunk from the small loaf with his mouth. He observed her silently while she prepared the food. His attentive gaze unnerved her more than usual. Farook never came into the kitchen, the old man preferring to leave her to her duties, which she was thankful for.<br />
<br />
“My father has been good to you, yes?” Ragol spoke with a half-stuffed mouth, casually wiping away some crumbs. He was a tall man, well-groomed, well-dressed in tunic and scarf, but he had a cold, no-nonsense way of speaking and carrying himself that chilled her with its directness.<br />
<br />
She simply nodded, but that response displeased him. His hand whipped out and caught her wrist firmly, pulling her slightly to face him. Surprised by the sudden movement, Kalara’s eyes shot upwards, immediately fixing on his dark gaze.<br />
<br />
“You will speak clearly to me, slave.”<br />
<br />
“Y-yes. He has been good to me, m’lord.” The grip caught her off guard. The fingers around the knife she was using to cut bread and cheese tightened instinctively but soon loosened as his grip did. She was beginning to understand why Farook didn’t like him. He had not a lick of his father’s sardonic ease.<br />
<br />
His eyes observed briefly the slight white knuckles on her hand holding the knife, his gaze moving to her face again. Then, he laughed, letting go of her in the same motion and returning to casually leaning against the counter.<br />
<br />
“Hahaha you have spirit, girl! You must in order to put up with my father.” He plucked a fig from a basket on the counter and started eating it as if nothing had happened at all. “I heard he won you in a game of cards. The old bastard would still spend more money on gambling than helping his own kin.”<br />
<br />
Or maybe he didn’t want to fuel your Dream Opal habit. Kalara thought to herself. She’d heard the other side of his rant, but she kept those thoughts to herself. She continued prepping while Ragol regarded her with lingering stares, his lips smacking loudly as he tore through the purple flesh of the fig and licked the juice from his lips.<br />
<br />
“Not a bad looking slave either…” He continued, her flesh crawling as his eyes inched over her figure. “I bet you keep his dusty wick oiled, eh? No wonder he’s sweet on you…”<br />
<br />
Once again, he was in her space, using the far-off bowl of figs on the other side of her as an excuse to reach over, cornering her against the counter with his body. She could feel the smile against the back of her neck and smell his sickeningly sweet breath.<br />
<br />
She froze immediately, her shoulders clenching instinctively at the threat of his presence. She set her palms flat on the counter along with the knife, her breath sticking in her lungs. Farook had never laid a finger on her. He’d never seemed interested. When she first arrived, she was still a child, but several cycles had passed since then. Her softness had faded to the curves and loveliness of a young woman, a blossom primed for marriage, if she were a free woman, or legally acceptable as a concubine, not that anyone adhered strictly to age proclamations behind closed doors.<br />
<br />
Kalara had always wondered when she wouldn’t be a child anymore in her master’s eyes and imagined the ways that she would bear it. The path to the perfection of the Dragons called for conviction. She could tolerate his affections as long as it kept her from worse. At night, she still dreamed sometimes of Asha’s eyes pleading with her in the brothel while a demon rearranged her insides in strange and terrible and pleasurable ways.<br />
<br />
But this man owned no part of her.<br />
<br />
She whirled to face him, pressing her back against the counter, her gaze meeting his.<br />
<br />
“My master will be awake soon. I’ll be summoning him to dinner now.” It wasn’t a direct challenge, but enough of one to remind him he was not the lord of this household yet. His pleased sneer disappeared and anger flashed in his eyes. It seemed for a moment that he might disregard her veiled warning, his dark gaze still mere inches from hers, but he finally relented, chuckling facetiously and shrugging as he backed off.<br />
<br />
“When my father dies, I’m going to be most pleased to inherit your contract. You’ll make a fine concubine.” He popped the rest of the fig in his mouth and sucked the juices from his fingers loudly before making his way back into the parlor.<br />
<br />
Kalara made sure he was well out of sight and earshot before she let the breath she had been holding out, stifling a shaky sob with a hand.<br />
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They passed the night as if nothing happened, Kalara listening from the next room over as she knelt on call to serve them wine while Farook talked of his retirement. A dutiful Ragol plied him with apologies and gratitudes for accepting him back into his life so that he could be a loving and proper son once more. Kalara’s gaze stared past the window and the glowstones beyond, seeing the threads of her future coming together.<br />
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Sensing his father’s failing health, the estranged son returns under the pretenses of love and renewed loyalty, circling like a raiton until Farook passed, perhaps even quickening the pace a little if he could get away with it. Then, with nothing left to stop him, he claims his father’s fortune and property…and his slave. The imaginings only grew sharper as the household went to sleep and she found herself wide awake in her quarters staring at the ceiling, haunted by that smile on her neck and wishing she could scrub it off somehow.<br />
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Every new master was a roll of Plentimon’s die and the next roll would be loaded.Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-37777897827383240582018-07-06T21:36:00.001-04:002019-08-08T11:36:09.252-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 5 - Daydreams<b>Author's Note: </b> <i>Wow has it really been since October of last year that I posted a new chapter??? Life really got away from me there while I've been wrapping up <a href="http://nouveauladies.angelicshades.com/" target="_blank">a passion project</a> I've been working on for 3 years and just too tired to do much but sleep or play video games when my day's work was done!</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>I also found this chapter particularly difficult to write. I always felt like after the high of Kalara's last parting that wrapping up the loose ends from that meltdown of the plot seemed too tedious and boring, but after forcing my way through that writer's block, I feel like this chapter ends on a high note!</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>And wow we're still in Gem! I thought our time here would be shorter than it has been, but I've happily unpacked more inspiration from its fascinating depths. All the research I did for <a href="http://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/2017/07/visual-guide-city-of-gem.html" target="_blank">the visual guide</a> has given me so many ideas, some which I'm sure might show up later with another character I've been pondering a side story for...because having one draft constantly in flux is not enough, apparently! (Spoiler Alert: I'm thinking Kalara's surrogate father, Ahrun Vadras, has had his own interesting adventures in The South, considering his reputation as a traveling tinkerer and love of firewands. It'd be fun to explore the politics of the Houses of Gem, considering Kalara is not really party to all of their intrigue).</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this break from the silence and the new chapter! I value any thoughts and feedback you have for me in comments, even if it's just to let me know you're enjoying my poor gal's meanderings in the mire of tragic backstory. Hopefully, the next chapter will not take so long to write now that we've kicked things off again!</i><br />
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The quiet chaos of grief felt like it should have consumed her, that upon arriving at yet another home in the shade of a grander lava tube, Kalara should have cried for the loss of her friends and the loss of Djali. Instead, numbness set in as Farook rode with her to her new home. Life, as it happened, seemed to continue on, ignorant of the cares of a Scrap like her. Farook introduced Kalara to her new quarters in his shaded abode, a little room barely larger than a closet with a small bed, half of the space full of scrolls and boxes. He was an appraiser in the grand scheme of House Iblan, his humble holdings luxurious enough to be shaded from the sun and furnished with woven carpets, but not near as decadent as Kalara might have imagined for someone descended from the venerable goldsmiths of Iblan.<br />
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Iblan Farook cracked his back as he stretched from their trip in the sedan chair, the aging man more past his prime than he liked to let on. “Clean up the mess tomorrow and the space is yours.” He gestured lazily to the piles of parchment. “I wasn’t expecting to win a slave. Lucky girl!” He laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder, Kalara’s green eyes flicking up to take in his beard-lined face, searching there for some clue as to whether that touch meant good or ill. Apparent kindness, she had learned, did not protect you from being sent off to the next master. Every time a new master bought her contract was a gamble of Plentimon’s dice between kind and cruel. So far she had been rolling well, too well.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>However, it was too early to tell Farook’s character and any such ponderings were pushed to the wayside by the list of menial tasks he piled on her. Tea and biscuits at dawn, honeyed dates half past morning bell, seasoned eggs and smoke meat at midday, cheese and fruit in the afternoons, raisin rice and goose for dinner, but only on Marsdays, wine by bedtime. Medicine from the apothecary on Mercury’s Days. She would keep the home and surrounds tidy, tend to any visitors, and never, ever interrupt him while he was in his study unless called for. It was apparent that Iblan Farook took great care to maintain his robust figure…and that he intended to leave her to her tasks unattended with enough money for his expansive grocery needs.<br />
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Spinel had trusted her with as much responsibility running for supplies and making deliveries to his workers, a task she had been perfectly suited for with her knack for delegation. If only he’d known what she had been up to before he foolishly gambled away her contract. She had cleverly skimmed change from her transactions, in addition to pinching off small excesses of perishable food she had accumulated in her own private cache.<br />
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A flinch of realization passed over her, Kalara suppressing the joy that bubbled up at the thought of running to the market to see if she could hear any word of Djali’s fate. Soon enough, Farook disappeared to his quarters and left Kalara to her own devices. She took off to the marketplace with barely a second thought under the guise of gathering groceries for the next day.<br />
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When she reached Spinel’s familiar stall in the market, spying Spinel with his nose buried in a ledger, Kalara stymied her excitement, keeping her distance. Asking too emphatically about Djali would seem suspicious. Instead, she watched Spinel for a time from afar, pulling her scarf tightly around her features to avoid drawing attention while she pretended to browse other stalls. It was eerie to see another performing Djali’s tasks. Spinel had a new head boy now, Chien, the next oldest under Djali who had just the other day been laughing and roughhousing with them in the Sahlak baths.<br />
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Once Spinel headed off to his daily tasks, Kalara discreetly made her way to the stall, waving Chien greeting.<br />
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“Ay Kalara! I didn’t expect to see you. They told us you were sold yesterday!”<br />
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Kalara waved him close, looking around as she bid him to talk low. She had gone a market too far from where she was supposed to be gathering groceries and thought it best to keep this inquiry quick and quiet.<br />
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“I have to be quick before Spinel sees me. Have you seen Djali? What’s happened to him?”<br />
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Chien took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what happened…but he tried to escape. I always knew he was crazy, but this?” He shook his head emphatically. “Spinel was so upset at losing him. He was the one he was grooming to be the next foreman! But now? He’s been sold to the water bearers on the surface.”<br />
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The understanding of Chien’s words sunk in slowly. She always knew he had a future with Spinel. She was the one who didn’t, or so she had thought, and she’d made Djali throw all of that away for her foolish dream of escape. Kalara barely absorbed the words that followed.<br />
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“If he makes up for his crimes with the bearers, Spinel will remove a mark from his papers as a gesture for his good service up until now, but nobody survives long in the sun, not with the heat of Ascending Fire and the raids on the basin. He’ll be lucky to last a year. Damn crazy Djali!” Chien shook his head again, his eyes squeezed close to fight back tears.<br />
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“I have to go…” Kalara didn’t mean to be brusque, but it was all she could manage at hearing Djali’s fate. He had made it out of the dark, into the sun, into the light, but not to freedom, but an early grave. What could she do? There was nothing. She had nothing. No one. The hollowness threw her life into perspective like nothing else had before.<br />
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She turned her back on the ghost of her former life, realizing how happy it had been, even with all its flaws. The loss of Djali, the loss of the tiny world where he existed, marked a hole in her heart where she would bury those innocent days.<br />
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“The world will never be what you want of it in this life. Walk your path well and the next life will be kinder.”<br />
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Auntie Niyan’s words, the advice she had bestowed her upon her sale to Spinel on the first day she had met Djali, rang louder, if not truer.<br />
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Life as the slave of Farook of House Iblan was a dull affair. She found him to be a generally fastidious man about his work and a complete slob about his home. No wonder he’d needed her when, somehow, a single person created more dishes and laundry than the entirety of the Scraps combined, or so it felt like with only one slave to assume all duties. She somehow missed the bells of the mining barracks that rang in the hours of their day, her life instead meted out by mealtimes and medication. </div>
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Farook required a daily dose of Acia bark dissolved in milk of the poppy, for his extravagant diet combined with his age aggravated his gout and gallbladder to the point he was bedridden some days. Too much of the bark and his medicine would punish him cruelly with bowel movements, a side effect she wished strongly to avoid for the kind of laundry it produced that she would additionally be responsible for.</div>
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From Farook’s medicated ramblings, and snippets she’d gathered from eavesdropping on his guests, Kalara gathered his history. This plump recluse had once been a goldsmith of some renown within the Iblan, but once his health declined, he gave up such meticulous workings, instead putting his keen eye for the substance of gold to appraisal instead. </div>
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She’d heard mention of an estranged son as well, but only in reference to his extravagant spending of the family fortune after their estrangement and his mother’s passing. Every now and again, an apprentice would show up to beg for his knowledge, but soon enough, they would be turned away by Farook’s disposition. She’d nod often as he raged to no one in particular about his slow, useless students.</div>
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Despite being his only caretaker, there was no affection from Farook, only a kind of tolerance of her presence as one might a stray dog. She minded the house and returned to her quarters when her duties were complete. He was never cruel, but never affectionate, beyond granting her a certain amount of independence, as long as she did her errands well and never spoke unless spoken to. </div>
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The few times she did speak an innocent inquiry of something, she was met with a cheerful, but dismissive exclamation about how such matters were nothing but clutter for the mind of a slave. If indifferent tolerance meant she would be safe from the demonic fleshcrafters that frequented Sahlak’s baths and the potential cruelty of a new master, Kalara told herself she could be content.</div>
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Even still, that old itch crept in without her even knowing it. She oftentimes found herself taking the wrong way home from the market, tracing pathways through the bustling streets that would lead her closer to the surface city and what lay beyond. She started stealing change again, telling Farook there was none left after tipping the rikshaw driver that transported her on a daily basis, when in truth at least a fourth of the difference remained. She’d have him drop her a ways off so that she could tip less. </div>
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She also enjoyed a walk back along the quaint lava tube, its houses more finely hewn with carved exteriors than her previous Antie Niyan’s cramped home. Lanterns hung above each door. Not salt or paper like the lower quarters, but lanterns of filigree metal lit from within by large glowstones that traced patterns of lacy light on the walls. Glowstones embedded into the ground marked the streets as well, paths of glowing rock leading tidily to each doorstep. She could always find her way home by following the line, even if she purposefully took the wrong paths.</div>
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Kalara spent more and more time at the market, finding solace in its hustle and distraction in observing the myriad lives that connected to one another. It was her favorite game to watch them in the mornings and listen to the cacophony of market chatter for scraps of their stories. The delivery boy from the outer city was the illegitimate child of the baker, who, himself, had a secret romance happening with the purse seller. Where she couldn’t hear the full story, she’d sometimes make up her own. It was the only excitement she had outside of Farook’s monotonous daily life.</div>
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Whatever she was stealing for, she didn’t know. Old habits died hard. She had no one to lead her out of the city now, no friends to comfort her beyond the scant hours in the market she could steal away chatting with old acquaintances among the Scraps, who themselves had begun to grow up and be filtered away into other jobs. Once a Scrap got too big to venture into the crevices, they had served their purpose and were sold off to other masters. Even with the change she had been skimming, buying her own freedom was years off…if she could even negotiate her own sale with Farook. Not all masters were so agreeable to the notion and found ways to prolong debt or make an unruly slave disappear to a worse fate. </div>
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Do well and be a good little slave and she would be rewarded in the next life, or so the Dragon worshippers taught. It was the only promise of something better that she had, and so she worked diligently, tending Farook and his home as any good slave should. The next few years of her life spent in this purgatory of routine passed in a haze of the same festivals and market runs. </div>
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Every now and again, she’d hear word of a raid on the water lines that made her think of Djali. Had he survived after all? What was he doing at the same time she was tending Farook’s dirty undergarments or roaming the markets? After awhile, she stopped asking herself. It was better not to think about him anymore, each thought picking at the wound of her failure. The seasons turned and the memories began to fade. She was no longer a child who would be swayed by childish fancies like escaping to a better life.</div>
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It was a day like any other when she would find the cocoon of routine she’d wrapped herself in breached by an unexpected sight. The marketplace had come alive in magnificent splendor with red streamers hung across the glowstones dangling in their enclosed skies, the voices of criers raising from the streets. Kalara caught snippets of the occasion while she went about her daily grocery retrieval. A recent raid had been defeated in the olive fields by a contingent of famous mercenary soldiers - The Ashen Guard. Unlike the usual incursions, this one had apparently been much larger than any they had seen in the past 20 years. The city had been on edge about it for some time. She could feel it in the air and the way that people around her hurriedly bought up supplies for a siege and whispered amongst themselves the horrors that would befall anyone captured by barbarians or worse - Dune people.</div>
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But today, the threat was no more and citizens with baskets of flowers and ribbons lined the streets singing and cheering their victory. Kalara had heard whispers of these mercenaries, long-time soldiers of the glorious Kolar III who defended the territories of Gem, their gray cloaks marking them as The Ashen Guard. The story of how the Guard got their name was a well-loved tale among the citizens of Gem. Hundreds of years ago during the violent eruption of the Fire Mountains, the city found itself under siege by an insurmountable force of united tribes that threatened to lay the city to waste and steal its treasures for themselves. </div>
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The Despot sent his bravest soldiers ahead to die. Outmatched and outnumbered, they found a way to outsmart death. Inspired by the cannibal Dune tribes who despise the sun, the soldiers hid themselves in the sands and patiently waited for the enemy to arrive. Like ghosts clad in volcanic ash, they sprang upon their enemies and routed the invading forces, dealing a blow the barbarians would remember for generations. Of the many stories she heard about them, this one was her favorite. However, to hear about them was one thing, but to see them was entirely another. She couldn’t resist indulging the sight and worked her way through the crowd to get a better vantage.</div>
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They rode tall and proud on their white horses down the center of the market, the usually indifferent crowd making a cheering path for their heroes. While she could only make out the back of the commander’s figure and his mane of flowing black hair, she caught sight of the others garbed in their distinctive gray armor and gray cloaks that billowed behind them like streams of smoke. A golden gleam caught her eye, drawing it to the hammer of the exquisitely crafted firewands hung at the side or across the back of each man. No other soldiers were as famed for their mastery of these guns as the Ashen Guard. No others were even allowed to carry the weapons branded with Arbani's personal seal outside of those heroic few who had been gifted these prized possessions by Halon himself. Such was the honor and prestige of the Ashen Guard. </div>
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Somehow, she had never seen them in person, only hearing the stories, her life so far disconnected from the affairs of warfare that she thought she’d have this opportunity. She stared agape at these upright men and women who had risked their lives for the city. They came from all walks of life, even slaves like her, and yet even they won the favor of the Despot and the prize of a master craftsman. A strange thought crept into the back of her mind, that familiar itch for something else.</div>
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She thought of them riding through the dunes atop their adorned steeds, washed by the blazing sun. She thought of herself among them, the gray cloak cutting the wind behind her, her hands steady as she looked down the sight of the firewand and fired the compact ball of flame at her target as one might thread a needle. She thought how deftly she could defend the water lines and see his face again, assured that Djali was safe. She felt whole and powerful at the thought, glimpsing once again the light of a future she might make for herself.</div>
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But such was the glorious short-lived nature of daydreams. Soon enough, their billowing cloaks disappeared around the bend and the crowd began to meander back to their daily lives of distraction and monotony. Kalara found herself glowing and empty in such a short span of time that it left her numbed and hollow in a way she had tried to forget for so long until now. She walked without purpose, hoping she could find some remedy for this feeling, but settling for the small freedom of being able to wander where she would within the tunnels as long as she returned home for mealtimes.</div>
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She found herself in familiar Iblan tunnels again, the old market paths she had ran as a child. The fleeting happiness she had there drew a small smile, even if they made her sad at the same time.</div>
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The sound of a whistle caught her off-guard, nearly making her trip.</div>
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“Pssst!”</div>
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The noise came again, Kalara peering cautiously in the shadows and squinting her eyes to focus. She could barely make out a dark shape seemingly emerging from the wall in a lesser known crevice that had been marked as off-limits by the crews.</div>
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“Psssssst! Kallie…is that you?? I am truly blessed! Ha ha ha thank the gods!” </div>
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The familiar voice and the nickname shocked her into awareness and she quickly whipped out the personal glowstone she had been granted by her Master to light her path through the darker tunnels, the faint light illuminating the curly locks, now long and gathered in a ponytail and the familiar gleaming and mischievous eyes of a ghost. It had to be a ghost! A Hungry Ghost back for revenge when she was caught off guard in her musings! She sucked in a breath and stepped back, dropping her glowstone at the same time.</div>
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“You’re dead!” She pointed at him with a single shaking accusatory finger.</div>
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“Oh come on, Kallie. I’m stuck!” Djali wiggled again, groaning as he still found himself stuck by the pelvis in the crevice. “I’m not so small to fit in here anymore!”</div>
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Kalara fell back on her haunches and just stared at him, too flustered to allow the realization to settle. “But what are you doing here?” She eventually stammered out in confusion.</div>
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“Look, we can catch up later because if we stay here for much longer, we’ll be caught and I’ll most likely be really killed and then I really will come back and haunt you. Help!” He held out an arm, wiggling his fingers at her to hurry when she didn’t take his grasp immediately.</div>
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She took his hand, pulling him with all her might out of the crevice he was stuck in, which drew some cursing from Djali as the movement scraped some rather delicate areas in the process.</div>
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When he was done preening and setting his pants back in order, he waved her to follow him and she was back in time again, following him without a beat into the tunnels, back into the unknown possibilities once more. </div>
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Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-68698595797731167942018-01-11T11:37:00.002-05:002018-01-11T11:44:50.380-05:00Concept Art: Early Sketches of Koh and the Pristine Guild Logo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx7PKxpH3yPrSW-cKqpymMMNFq8mtVzgxi-8RO8lwwQQc_U1mJSszAMjBhODZNRNm-veEL5YHFh_lHNrnX_Npcn7wku560hopeyz9VJu0FMwCAHIWJbzCfWQckEXS6ikfcZADJ7RZTmfo/s1600/Koh-Early-Sketch-with-Guild-Logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="1000" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx7PKxpH3yPrSW-cKqpymMMNFq8mtVzgxi-8RO8lwwQQc_U1mJSszAMjBhODZNRNm-veEL5YHFh_lHNrnX_Npcn7wku560hopeyz9VJu0FMwCAHIWJbzCfWQckEXS6ikfcZADJ7RZTmfo/s640/Koh-Early-Sketch-with-Guild-Logo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Been meaning to scan this in for ages! Here's a page from my sketchbook with an early doodle of Kalara when she first came into our </span><a data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=136603659852669&extragetparams=%7B%22directed_target_id%22%3Anull%2C%22groups_location%22%3Anull%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/ExaltedRPG/" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;">Exalted</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> game as Koh the Silver-Tongued Devil, Merchant Prince for a new upstart Guild and fugitive slave as her cover story.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Her Pristine Guild's logo was originally the Old Realm for the letter "G" (for the Guild) with the Eclipse Caste mark graffitied over the Guild's orig</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">inal logo with gold paint. As her Guild grew, she added a phoenix to the banner, which was inspired by their first battle against the soldiers who showed up to take back other fugitive slaves she was protecting.<br /><br />Her new ally, a Twilight Caste sorceress, summoned a phoenix that flew over the battlefield, singing songs as he went, and burning through their enemies. Plus, a phoenix seems fitting for Kalara and her Guild, who have a philosophy of burning down the old to build things anew.<br /><br />Plus, my scribbly notes about NPCs and politics in our game at the time for flavor!</span>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-63842360618165172652018-01-04T22:47:00.001-05:002018-01-04T22:56:04.299-05:00Life Signs & Thoughts on Narrative Framing<div>
So I took a break from writing more on <a href="https://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Uncrucified%20Beta%20Draft" target="_blank">the beta draft of The Uncrucified</a> so I could have some time away from the words for awhile.</div>
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Time away turned into a hectic holiday season, vacation, and months since I last posted any chapters! Sorry about that, but it was very hard to steal away any time to appease my writing muse after some very late work nights.</div>
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It's 2018 now and that means I want to re-dedicate myself to writing more! This story has been a great way to stretch my legs and dust of those skills I haven't used since college when I was writing edgy poetry and Milton analysis for my English degree.</div>
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As for where we're going from here? So far, the few folks who have made it through the new beta stuff have reacted positively to the new scenes and my writing style. But as a writer, I have to admit I feel something is missing from this story. Perhaps its urgency? The way her story is structured is very linear and chronological right now.</div>
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This happens, then this, then this. Unlike Kalara's original memoir that is written in the framework of her future badass self reflecting on her former self, this story reads like a calendar.</div>
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After thinking long and hard about this, I realized the problem might be that so much of what's awesome about Kalara happens later on in her life. She's a gunslinging badass king of thieves with superpowers! But we're just not there yet.</div>
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Kalara's early years interest me because there's poetry in the fact she isn't this amazing badass yet, that everything she ever chose to do in her life led up to this moment where she was given the power to unlock that potential lurking within herself to punch gods in the face and well and truly change the world the way she had always striven to do.</div>
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Surely there's a way to combine the two? The longer I've thought about this, the longer I realize it would be amazing to bring that original framework back in to have Kalara's future self reflecting on moments from her past relevant to what adventures she might be having as a fledgling Solar struggling with her newfound powers and establishing her new Guild. Non-linearity would allow for such wonderful potential with deeper suspense and the ability to bring more layers of meaning to the various moments of importance in her life.</div>
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lol so I guess this means I'm due for YET ANOTHER rewrite! What would you even call that? A Charlie draft? </div>
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For now, however, I'm just going to keep writing this draft chronologically and exploring in long form all the little emotions and events that led up to Kalara's current self. I can always cut bits of it into a rewrite later. Writing what I have now has been a great exercise and valuable exploration of her character! Plus, I wouldn't have discovered some of the fun spontaneous gems like Djali if I hadn't gone back and expanded.</div>
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So here's to more writing in 2018! Let's keep this thing going!</div>
Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-39452788667749039132017-10-26T11:13:00.002-04:002019-08-08T11:36:59.573-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 4 - Escape<b>Author's Note: </b><i>I had a bad case of writer's block during this mini-arc in Gem for a long while up until the bathhouse scene from last chapter. I struggled with the question of how do I explain that in Kalara's situation she doesn't really suffer the worst aspects of slavery? Other slaves have it far worse. How could she appreciate the depths of her situation in life if she was mostly treated well? Why, then, would she later be so vehemently against slavery in Creation as an adult?</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>How do I also tell this kind of story without resorting to some of the things that I felt weren't where her story should take her? (ie. childhood sexual assault.) It's not that I fear writing about this topic, but rather the one thing I AM certain of is that this story hinges more around an understanding that even the more gentle aspects of slavery are wrong. </i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Not every slave in this world endures horrible abuse...and that simple fact is the terrible creeping insidiousness of the institution that she fights with later in her life. I imagine so many people brought up this example to her as to why she is foolish for wanting to abolish the whole institution as a successful business practice. Surely there are good masters and well-treated slaves that are exceptions to the rule? She was, for the most part, one of those exceptions and to this aspect she can speak most thoroughly.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>I realized the answer to my writer's block was in the fact that this lack of understanding of the worst of things IS her flaw in this early stage of life. She dreams of better things even when she knows she should accept what she has. This kind of dreaming in this kind of life has consequences for everyone, not just herself.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Once I realized this, the story began to flow so much better!</i><br />
<br />
<b><br /></b> <b>RATING:</b> G<br />
<br />
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<br />
Djali tore from his chrysanthemum haunted dreams with a jerk, his head rung like a bell from someone wrenching him by the shoulders.<br />
<br />
“Djali, wake up. Please!”<br />
<br />
“Kallie…what?” He managed to ask, barely recognizing Kalara through the crust of sleep over his eyes. The resistance of his eyelids and the dimmed lamps above hinted at the ungodly hour it was.<br />
<br />
She only turned, beckoning him with a strange quickness in her voice. “Just follow me. I have something to show you.”<br />
<br />
Kalara led them through familiar work tunnels, a single pebble of a glowstone temporarily borrowed from a lantern lighting their way. Spinel wouldn’t be happy if he saw her with that, but the silent purposeful intent of her steps and the way she clutched his wrist and pulled him along as they walked made him think twice about poking fun at her. Even he knew when to be serious. She led them to a nook they often hid for mealtimes. The small, circular loop of an inlet carved from natural erosion was the perfect space to get away on a busy day. She stopped there, kneeling and running her hands across the cavern floor like a lunatic.<br />
<br />
“Kallie, what are you…?” He didn’t have time to finish his question when her fingertips found the edge of the rock she’d been using as camouflage, pulling up the large piece of slate to reveal a cache dug into the floor.<br />
<br />
Djali’s jaw dropped when it dawned on him what he was looking at. “You’ve been stealing food!?”<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
“Yes. Here and there in the market, from grocery trips, old food from stands. I’ve stashed enough for the both of us for a few weeks journey, by my count. Enough to reach the main route…” When she turned to him, her green eyes were wide and glistening in the dim light. “Djali…I can’t stay here. We have to go! I even have enough coin in here to bribe a driver…”<br />
<br />
In truth, she’d been idly planning to escape. It had become her hobby. She’d been nursing a fantasy that one day the two of them might steal away and see the markets of Chiaroscuro and the crystals of the Glittering Desert together. It’d only been a child’s fantasy, but it comforted her to entertain it even just a little. But now? The thought of leaving had become a reality. In truth, she had no idea if the money she’d been gathering was enough to even tempt a driver. All she knew was that it was all she had in the world.<br />
<br />
“Aaay…” Djali slapped his hands to his bedraggled dark hair, taken aback at first, but then he smiled and laughed. “You’re joking. Come ooon!”<br />
<br />
“Please!” Kalara shook him again by the shoulders, her voice adamant. She caught his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to his, her body quivering with tears that stopped his smiling instantly. He saw the wet drops fall onto the stone below their feet.<br />
<br />
“I can’t stay. You have to understand. Lady Sahlak lies. That place…it’s full of monsters!” The words poured out along with her tears. He’d never seen her so afraid, not even when she first arrived a fresh new slave sold to their master. Djali let her talk. He didn’t know what else to do. So shocked was he by the flood of emotion he’d never seen from her that it didn’t occur to him to offer the comfort of his hands on her shoulders till a few moments later.<br />
<br />
“Spinel is going to sell me. I need to be gone before then. You know the tunnels best...” She took his cheeks in her hands and locked their gazes, Djali unable to escape her surety. “You have to come with me. Please! Please! I don’t know what else to do…”<br />
<br />
He sighed heavily. What could he do? There was no saying no. He’d known her long enough to know when her mind was made up, but this was a dangerous path. They could be punished, sold off, or worse. He’d seen the worst of it with his own elder brother, the only kind of family he ever remembered having before he came to Spinel. His brother had stolen something valuable from their previous master and run away without him. Back then, he had been dead weight, too small to keep up with his brother.<br />
<br />
Their previous master was nowhere near as kind as Spinel. The next morning, Djali was just old enough to remember his brother lashed to a post in the market square, nearly naked, and scourged in front of everyone. For days, they left him to starve till he was delirious and singing songs of repentance. He never saw him again after they took him down from the post.<br />
<br />
From then on, Djali knew the good fortune of his survival. He wore a smile, content to find happiness in dark places with kinder masters others might dream of having once he came under Spinel’s ownership.<br />
<br />
“Djali?” Kalara looked at him with pleading eyes, disturbed by his silence.<br />
<br />
“No…” Came the quick answer just under his breath.<br />
<br />
“Djali, please!” Kalara was wrenching his shoulders again.<br />
<br />
“No…you don’t understand what they’ll do to you…” He spoke with such seriousness that belied his age, from a dark place he never liked to visit. His refusal set her to beating his chest haplessly. It hurt, but he took it anyways and finally contained her arms in a stern embrace. She shivered for a long time in his arms before she finally took a step back, her chin fixed, her eyes wild and adamant again.<br />
<br />
“If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone.” The emotion twisted in her brow, turning her sadness into anger. “…I know what they’ll do to me if I stay…and that’s enough! You’re the safe one. You’ve always been safe with Spinel. He likes you.” She didn’t mean for those words to be weapons, but they pierced him like daggers, anyways. Enough so that he winced at the accusation.<br />
<br />
She turned to leave, probably to try to run away right then and there knowing her, but his hand whipped out of its own accord and caught her wrist.<br />
<br />
“Wait…” He couldn’t believe what he was saying, but she was right. He did what he needed to do to be safe, to please a master who had been kinder to him than any other he’d known, to smile and make himself indispensable. In this, he had succeeded.<br />
<br />
But what he couldn’t do was watch her leave with such hate for him, this rude, serious girl that had somehow become his best friend.<br />
<br />
“Give me three days.” Djali pushed the words out with a heavy sigh, knowing that he was sealing his own fate. “I’ll plan the route.” If she had a chance, even a slim one, it was a better chance if he was with her.<br />
<br />
He’d barely had time to finish speaking before Kalara had pounced on him with a hug so tight that it squeezed the breath from him. There weren’t any more words after that, only the two of them embraced quietly in the darkness for what seemed like an eternity.<br />
<br />
“You’re getting tall, you know that?” Kalara sniffed, finding the nook of his shoulder was a nice place to lay her head and forget the world for awhile. They’d both grown in the time since she’d first come, her from the joyless, serious girl and him from the smiling, stupid boy.<br />
<br />
When they finally let go, they were children no longer, any innocence they both had sacrificed to the utter acceptance of the horror that was their possible future. Djali only knew deep down that no matter what was going to happen, it wouldn’t be good, not that he could tell her that.<br />
<br />
Did he ever have a choice in the first place? He wondered if this was the true power of women and smiled despite himself.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
The next morning began as usual to the tone of the morning bell. The chatter of the Scraps followed a simple breakfast, a morning blessing from Spinel for good fortune, and the assignment of routes.<br />
<br />
Djali fulfilled his duties as Spinel’s steward, fetching his books, minding his laundry, and paying extra special attention to the assignments of the schedules for the runners for the next work cycle. Sure enough, there would be the perfect opportunity to steal away into the outer tunnels if they could wait until the workers were exploring the sapphire deposits on the east side of the caldera, a good distance away from the route he had in mind for their escape.<br />
<br />
Kalara cried tears of joy when he told her an opportunity had presented itself so soon. The sound of that happiness filled the void her words from before had left in him.<br />
<br />
<br />
The bells continued the cycle of their day, chiming in mealtimes, break times, and yet another night. He could tell when he passed Kalara in the barracks that every day weighed on her like years.<br />
<br />
“Do you believe we could be Dragons?”<br />
<br />
The question caught him off guard as they huddled in the corner of Kalara’s stall before lights out. When he had no answer but a confused glance, Kalara continued.<br />
<br />
“Auntie always said we could.” Kalara fiddled aimlessly with the charcoal between her fingers she’d used to adorn the wall across from them with crude drawings. “Before she sold me, she said I should ‘walk my path well’ so that the ‘next life will be kinder’. We could be Dragonborn, if we lived our lives well and did what she said.” She tossed the charcoal to the side, as if giving up on such childish decorations and dreams all at once. “…I think I’ll never be one, at this rate.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know…” He honestly didn’t. He never really had time to ponder religion with so much work to do. He couldn’t imagine what it might be like to be Dragonborn, one of heaven’s chosen. What would it be like to be rich and powerful with the ability to spout fire from his nose or control the rains or grow the tallest tree or suck the air out of a man’s lungs? Supernatural feats of wonders flitted through his imagination ending in no more than the sureness that they were just fantasies woven by devout little old ladies who told themselves that to sleep better at night.<br />
<br />
“…do you think I’d make a good dragon?” Djali fluffed his hair so it stood up in the middle like a fin and turned to her.<br />
<br />
She couldn’t help but laugh weakly, even as the tears squeezed from her eyes. She looked to her crude drawing of the sun and the crystals of the desert. “We’ll see them soon…” She said more to herself than to Djali, clinging to that hope.<br />
<br />
<br />
The next day came the bells, the morning blessing, the supply assignments. Midday, however, Djali made his way to Spinel’s workroom just in time to catch Kalara’s name being spoken. Instead of entering, he hovered, unseen, by the entry.<br />
<br />
“…such a shame to lose her. She had promise. A very quick learner, that girl.” Spinel sighed, frustrated and tight-jawed as ever. “Gather her contract and have it ready for tomorrow.”<br />
<br />
When Spinel looked up to see who was at the entrance, there was no one.<br />
<br />
Djali found Kalara at the end of her shift, his smile nonexistent as he pulled her aside.<br />
<br />
“We’re leaving tonight.”<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
The echoes of the city cryers singing the farewell prayer to the Sun ushered in the evening. Street runners went by each glowstone lamp sliding the shutters closed to dim the cold lights. When darkness fell and Spinel and his workers blew out their last candles, the shadows of two children crept past the main workroom’s doorway. Djali knew their nightly routine enough to know the proper time to excuse himself to bed and retrieve Kalara.<br />
<br />
They quietly crept to their lunch spot, gathering the supply cache in two bags, each of them carrying one across their shoulders so they could distribute the weight evenly and move as quickly as possible. Leaving a day early meant that camps set up around the perimeter hadn’t been moved to the far side yet. Security details patrolled the tunnels to make sure no thieves or saboteurs could meddle with the Iblan operation in the area.<br />
<br />
The two of them crept like rats, slinking in shadows around patrol campfires and huddling in dark corners while the soldiers passed, the nightly complaints of the sentries echoing around them as they held their breath, as if they were playing some kind of childish game. But this was no game. Every stop for a patrol felt like the end of their journey, but somehow they were able to move on! Kalara could swear the air had started to smell fresher, cleaner, tantalizing her with the thought of surface air. She could almost smell the sun-bleached sand of the desert!<br />
<br />
Everything began to unravel when she fell just one step behind Djali in the utter darkness of the upper tunnels. She lost his grip, stumbling blind for a moment long enough to find a slant in the floor. The slippery stone and the sudden shift in the floor was enough to send her falling.<br />
<br />
Her ankle bent, tendons popping with sudden sharp pain, and she fell with a startled scream. Gravity threw her downward, her body tumbling out of control till she thought she was surely going to roll off into some unseen trench and die! Luckily for her, she came to a rough stop against another wall instead of the freefall of a pit. She heard Djali’s panicked voice calling down to her and saw his figure illuminated by their stolen glowstone a moment later as he nimbly skidded his way down.<br />
<br />
“Kallie, take my hand!” He balanced himself like a mountain goat against the slope and reached for her. Just as he did, they heard the none too distant call of an alarm being raised!<br />
<br />
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” A stream of curses spewed from Djali as he helped her to her feet and they struggled in a panic to get up the slope. The state of her ankle made her slip again and again, Kalara crying in pain each time she put any weight on her foot. Somehow, they managed to scramble their way back up the slope and stumble their way further into the tunnel.<br />
<br />
So close now, Kalara could smell the night air! Every step felt like fire and left her crying and panting with the effort and frustration. They weren’t moving fast enough…and it was all her fault!<br />
<br />
Behind them, the red glow of a torch lit up the tunnels and the echoing voices became clearer. “This way. I heard someone this way!”<br />
<br />
The sound of their pursuers made Kalara panic and she tried to push through the pain. Suddenly, she felt resistance against her grip on Djali’s arm. He had stopped suddenly, much to her confusion. She felt him adjust her in his grip, taking the bag from around her shoulder and moving it to his own. He turned to her and placed the glowing pebble in her palm.<br />
<br />
“Take it and go back…” He closed his hand over hers, pressing her fingers over the stone. “…I’ll lead them off.”<br />
<br />
“No! Djali!” She began to protest, but he cut her off.<br />
<br />
“You’re too slow, we’ll never make it up the caldera!” He shouted, more serious in all his life than Kalara had ever seen him. “Follow the gold veins. They’ll lead you back. ” With that, his hands released hers. “Don’t forget me, Kallie!”<br />
<br />
And then he was off sprinting down the tunnel like the best runner that he was, yelling and laughing nonsense to make sure the patrol heard him.<br />
<br />
At first, Kalara was too stunned to move. She had just enough presence of mind to hide herself in the stalagmites until the patrol passed. She limped back, taking every bit of willpower and muffling her cries by biting on the collar of her shirt. She managed to retrace their steps following the faint glint of gold veins in the tunnel walls to make her way back to the Iblan mines, back to Spinel, back to her lonely stall with the other Scraps. Back to the horrible fate that awaited her.<br />
<br />
And now she faced that fate alone without Djali…and it was all her fault.<br />
<br />
What had she done?<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
The next morning settled over the Scraps with the painful exception of Djali’s empty stall. The morning bell rang, but Kalara stayed curled in her cot, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her bound ankle still throbbing. She hadn’t slept at all that night after binding her ankle with one of her belt sashes and praying that nobody heard her quiet sobbing.<br />
<br />
She’d been awake when the patrol brought a shouting and kicking Djali through the main hall. She’d heard him bravely laughing and taunting them, saying he let them catch him and that he was tired of Spinel’s foul-smelling shits. She heard the crack against his jaw and the sputtering laugh that still followed. Then nothing.<br />
<br />
Why did she make him do it? She should have gone alone, should have been the only one to get punished for doing something so stupid, so hopeless.<br />
<br />
When Spinel’s weary attendant came to gather her, she reluctantly rose, barely registering his scolding.<br />
<br />
“Where were you, girl? You missed your assignment today. No matter, gather your things and follow me.”<br />
<br />
Numb and dejected, Kalara quietly complied. She wanted to ask what happened to Djali, to get some clue about his fate, but she knew doing so would cast suspicion on her. She remained silent.<br />
<br />
It didn’t take long to gather the small bundle of clothing and crude combs that had been granted to her. She floated through a haze of hollow sorrow as he led her, limping as she went along. She watched the rough hewn floor as it passed beneath her feet, each step taking her closer to the inevitable fate she had tried so desperately to avoid.<br />
<br />
She only came back to awareness when Spinel’s deep voice jarred her back to her senses with a question.<br />
<br />
“Did you hear me girl? Iblan Farook is your new master.”<br />
<br />
A plump older man stepped forward at that pronouncement and clapped Spinel on the shoulder, much to his annoyance.<br />
<br />
“Sorry, old man, but the Plentimon favored me this year! And besides…” The man grinned and stroked his beard, the white whiskers lining his face and his fluffed unkempt hair making him look like a great smiling yeddim. “You have a terrible game face and an even worse sense for business betting slave contracts!”<br />
<br />
Spinel grimaced even more deeply and handed Kalara’s contract over to Farook. “Just…take her and go.”<br />
<br />
If the men around her seemed upset by her reaction to this exchange, Kalara didn’t seem to care or notice. She laughed aloud as Farook led her out of Spinel’s office while huge tears poured from her eyes. She wasn’t being sold to Lady Sahlak after all, but some other unknown entity. He could be a monster like the thing she saw at the brothel, or just another master with a grocery list. At her tears, Spinel rose to put a hand on her shoulder, saying something about how she would be treated well or he’d hear about it, but she didn’t care at the moment.<br />
<br />
All she could think of was the high cost she had paid for nothing at all, the laughter she’d never hear again thanks to her insistence that Djali go along with her master plan.<br />
<br />
She laughed and she cried while those thoughts tore her up inside like swallowed glass.Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-4338677823367504022017-10-17T11:47:00.001-04:002019-08-08T11:35:20.555-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 3 - Plentimon's Day<span style="white-space: pre;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; white-space: normal;">RATING:</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px; white-space: normal;"> R</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; white-space: normal;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px; white-space: normal;">- Adult Situations</span></span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre;">- Light Gore</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span>
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
At night, Kalara still heard the Dream Eaten’s hollow voice ringing in her ears.<br />
<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I’ll be back in the morning” the unfulfilled promise echoed in her nightmares.<br />
<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Her mind invented myriad ways that Fey might nibble on her most secret thoughts, from singing little songs that went into her ears and stole visions with every note to a long-fingered fey dragging her dreams out of her nose like narrow glowing noodles. Those dreams began the same, with her being sold for her impertinence, for having stolen a pie or for tripping during a delivery, silly stupid things she knew weren’t true, but that always felt true in dream logic.<br />
<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Even while her overactive mind invented nightmares, her waking hours never proved such fears real. In fact, life in Gem revolved around more than just work and meals and fearful punishments. Festival days for the Small Gods allowed even the lowest workers an extended afternoon of feasting and gambling. Only the cut of the meat and the size of the prize pot differed between rich and poor. The Scraps, in particular, looked forward to the one day out of the year they were allowed to visit the Sahlak Bathhouse, a day Djali spoke of in splendid detail. They would be allowed to wash in crystal clear sweet-smelling waters attended by beautiful maidens who would feed them small cakes! Or so Djali said.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Plentimon’s Day arrived with much fanfare, as it did every year since Kalara could remember. The God of Chance, himself, made the long journey from Whitewall where an underground gambling palace lined with unimaginable finery, women, and feasts was prepared especially for him by the Despot. The marketplace was always filled with chatter about it, as was Djali.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kalara had doubted the validity of Djali’s interpretation of facts since the day she met him.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Plentimon of Dice, however, she had seen herself the last time he had graced the city on his feast day. Auntie had brought the children on an outing so they could see the spectacle and help her gather any coins thrown by the entourage that the children could scramble for her. Dear Auntie, never wasteful and always inventive in the use of her small army of children.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Plentimon came in the season of Air when the burning sands were at their most temperate. A two-tone mask of black and white covered his face, a void of blackness pinpricked by flecks of gold that flowed within the semblance of a man. Bright golden eyes burned behind the mask, the rest of his glittering form layered in rich, colorful robes. His unimaginably tall figure waved nonchalantly from an extravagant sedan chair laden with gifts and gold. Slaves painted with gold and silver powders carried his entire procession along until they disappeared into the deepest holdings in the subterranean city off-limits to commoners where gods only knew what took place over the next week of debauchery that marked the Plentimon’s annual stay in Gem.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The entire city from the bottom up took the Plentimon’s arrival as a sign that all within Gem would be blessed in games of chance. Therefore, the Despot decreed that the whole day and night of his grace would be set aside for revelries and games. The torches of fire dancers in the street and drunken revelers in the squares filled the city with laughter and light.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Meanwhile, the Scraps prepared for the one good bath a year they were allowed to have outside of the standard washing basins they utilized in their barracks. Older workers chaperoned the rowdy children in a line through the lava tubes, the children ooing and aahing as they passed grander buildings then a few of them had ever seen in their journey from the sparse tubes of the poor to the lavishly carved exteriors of the Red Stone district. Kalara was among the gawkers, this being her first year with the Scraps during Plentimon’s Day.<br />
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“I heard they have stones that you can touch that let you dream anyone’s dreams, even the Despot’s!” Djali rattled off excitedly beside her. “You’ll see! You’ll see!”<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Exquisitely carved lamps lit by red firestones cast lacy shadows over the procession of giggling children and world-weary chaperones who warned them all to be on their best behavior in the House of Sahlak. Docking meals was always a good motivator for silence. The children obeyed, for the most part, lining up in two rows in front of the entranceway of the main bathhouse draped with red silks and guarded by two statues of entwined lovers wrapped in spinning silks frozen in carved stone. The children bowed in unison as the Lady Sahlak Janissa, herself, emerged to greet Spinel. Spinel bowed to her in a courtly manner, the lithe Janissa offering a single demure hand in his.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Welcome back to our most humble abode, my darling Spinel.” Janissa smiled so perfectly as she kissed his cheek. Everything about her seemed like a painting of a courtesan, from flowing silks to flawless skin to her hair that seemed to float always in the most alluring ways around her face. Kalara watched as she greeted their master, leaning ever so close to him so that her lips brushed past his ear. For his part, Spinel hid any reaction to her teases, aside from the slightest tweak of the corner of his mouth. “Such darling faces you’ve brought to me this year!” Janissa exclaimed with practiced glee.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Lady Sahlak casually gazed upon each of the children as she traversed the row, her pearl white skin given even more of a dreamlike quality by the crimson opalescent light of the glowstones hung in the lamps above them. Every so often, she would stop in front of a child, speaking with them for a few moments and whispering something to an attendant before continuing on. Djali watched her, as he must have surely done in years past, with his mouth agape in wonder. Kalara elbowed him in the side before Janissa reached them, but that didn’t save him from being caught gawking up at her when she stopped in front of him, smiling her perfect smile etched with blood red paint. Her perfume enveloped them in arms of sweet and musky chrysanthemum.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Such a beautiful boy, Spinel!” Janissa called back to their master. “How would you like to come live with me, Djali? I see how much fun you have here every year!” Her playful giggle rang like bells in his ears.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Djali could only stare for a moment before he finally closed his gaping mouth and swallowed, the poor boy still unarmed by the most beautiful woman in front of him and the shadow of cleavage leveled just in front of his short view.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“He’s not for you, Janissa.” Spinel’s harsh voice spoiled her plans. “The boy’s a fool, but he knows every tunnel you’d never care to step foot in.”<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Awww…” Janissa leaned closer, pressing a finger to Djali’s nose and winking at him. “I guess you’ll have to stay with stuffy master Spinel…for now.” Djali turned beet red, even under the red light, as Janissa straightened herself and continued on. She seemed to bypass Kalara completely at first,... until she spied the gleaming scar on Kalara’s forearm as she passed.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Well, well, another ‘Sweet Girl’!” Janissa leaned in, tracing her delicate fingers down one side of Kalara’s cheek and lifting her chin up so she could get a better look at her. “Are you as sweet as the others, I wonder?”<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kalara only stared, wide-eyed and unsure of how to answer. The question confused her. It almost felt as if Lady Sahlak was concerned more about how she might taste rather than her demeanor.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Ah, and such lovely jade green eyes, even in this light!” The Lady kept raising Kalara’s chin till her throat was fully exposed, the cold bite of her painted fingernails like small knives across her skin. “And a smooth complexion.” The Lady examined her for a moment longer, eyeing her the way an eagle does before it eats its prey. Kalara felt smothered by her shadow and the sickening smell of her perfume. Lady Sahlak’s eyes gleamed with hidden amusements, Kalara swearing she could see the edges of the perfect mask she wore fading.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Mmm, but perhaps too much effort to polish this gem.” Finally, the Lady released her and Kalara took a step back into line.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Spinel, we’ll speak later! Take your lot of little pups to the Lotus Pool…” Lady Sahlak waved to an attendant, who immediately jumped into action at the merest flick of the Lady’s wrist. “…and tell Lady Iblan she would benefit most assuredly from a dip in our waters. She looks so haggard these days!” She hid a jeering smile behind a silk sleeve, the quip not lost on Spinel, who only tightened his jaw, bowed, and moved on ahead. The fued between their houses was widely known, but there were few who could resist the quality and purity of the waters provided by the Sahlak, lest they be tricked into bathing in low quality purified piss.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kalara gazed after the Lady Janissa of House Sahlak wondering what kind of a master she might be, her cold fingernails still lingering on her skin. The bathhouse was like a painting she’d seen on the walls of the palace square. She was the celestial goddess at the center of a wondrous garden. Even as the chrysanthemums faded from her senses, Kalara spied the young workers of the bathhouse who peeked out from behind the statues in the entryway. Every piece of the tapestry of loveliness woven around them seemed to fit except for the peeking children, most of whom seemed only a few years older than herself.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kalara knew the lies of such perfection before. She remembered the warmth of Auntie Sweet’s hearth, the sweetmeats and comforts she distracted them with to keep them from asking questions. Auntie had kept her and her ‘darling children’ only to fatten and sell at the market like sacrificial goats. Kalara thought she caught a hint of fear in the childrens’ eyes as they gazed towards their mistress who passed idly through the entryway with demure steps. She thought she saw a symbol very much like the one burned into her own forearm on one of them, but as soon as she noticed, the children dispersed like figments of her imagination back into the red shadows of the bathhouse in the wake of their mistress.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kalara didn’t have time to ponder too long on the bathhouse children before their group was led to their own private bathing area. Nobody wanted to share a bath with a herd of rowdy dirty children and Spinel, as stoic as he seemed, was kind enough to buy out a whole area just for them knowing this was the one thorough bath they’d get in a year’s cycle. He enjoyed the bath too, though he usually disappeared to his own business and pleasures after he was through, leaving the children in the care of their older chaperones.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Seeing the water and the comforting sound of her fellow Scraps laughing alleviated the darker thoughts her mind had wandered to. This was water, glorious hot water! Kalara jumped in on a dare from Djali and sunk to the bottom before emerging with a spray of water, laughing as she doused Djali and scoffed at him “I see you have your brain back, nyeh!” She made an imitation of his gaping face from earlier before splashing him again.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Hey! Don’t blame me if you don’t have those kind of breasts yet!” Djali retorted, turning beet red once again before hopping into the pool on top of Kalara and dunking her under for good measure before she could defend that statement or comment about his own privates. They were all naked the pool. Slaves in tight living quarters didn’t have time to be concerned with modesty. Whatever surprises or shyness anyone dealt with had been quickly alleviated by forty nude children washing their own clothes and bodies in the commmon area. Most of them were too young to really appreciate the full artistry of the human body just yet, anyways.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Having water in this amount, however, was a privilege only for the super rich, for water had to be transported by hand from the cisterns and heated by firestones. It smelled sweet with oils and every now and again Sahlak attendants came and showered them with petals for the bath, which delighted the children, who danced and laughed as the colors scattered around them. Djali danced with her, spouting water out of his nose and arranging petals on her head when she wasn’t looking.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was the happiest Kalara could remember being in the few years of cramped spaces and deceitful adults that had been her life up until this point. When she could laugh no more, her face too sore from smiling and her breath short, Kalara took a seat on the side of the pool and wrapped herself in a towel, resting her chin on her knees as she took in the sight of the other children playing. Djali was pretending to be a whale now, filling his cheeks with water and spitting it out at the other kids. She admired the endless energy he had to just be a child. Even as young as she still was in body, she felt like she’d abandoned such capacity for joy a long time ago when Auntie haggled her childhood away without even a drop of genuine affection. He’d helped her rediscover at least some of that joy, even if he was a foolish, gross boy.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I never thought I’d see you here.” A soft, guarded voice only just above a whisper sounded in her ear, Kalara turning finally to notice the unassuming figure of a servant girl kneeling at her side.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I brought you a hazelnut tart. I know you like them too.” The girl smiled weakly, her dark eyes marked with kohl and makeup that couldn’t hide the gray circles that weighed them down. “I’m Asha.” In the light, Kalara caught sight of the distinctive raised flesh of Auntie’s trademark gleaming on the girl’s forearm as she reached out to offer the plate.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She finally recognized her then, if only vaguely. Asha had been in Auntie’s home only a small while after Kalara had first arrived. She’d disappeared only a few weeks later, Kalara just old enough to remember her. She had been yet another ‘older sister’ too old to stay and explained away as a having gone on to a better home.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I’m sorry…I don’t remember you so well.” Kalara shook her head, frustrated.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Asha only smiled her sickly smile. “It’s alright. I’m just happy to see a familiar face, even if it’s a ‘little sister’ I barely had.” She watched quietly while Kalara downed the plate with ungraceful large bites. Even if she despised Auntie’s methods, she could never give up her love of pastries, especially after a bland diet of mysterious stews, unleven bread, and tea. When she moved to discard the plate, she found her wrist grasped tightly by Asha’s. The quick movement startled her briefly, but it wasn’t aggressive.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The fear in Asha’s eyes made it clear. It was desperation. “I saw her looking at you…” Her voice was a trembling whisper. “You have to know…she’s…this place…” She couldn’t find the words for a moment, the fear driving her voice even lower, as if Lady Sahlak might hear her from afar.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was then Kalara noticed the marks on Asha’s wrist, the twisting red of rope burns hidden by bracelets and a hint of worse bruises and cuts that disappeared into the shimmer of her silks.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“This place isn’t what you think it is, what it looks like. You should prepare yourself...” Asha’s grip eased as Kalara placed a comforting hand over hers.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“If she wants you here, you’ll have to be good. If you don’t cry, if you do what she says, the Lady promises us we’ll be kept. We’ll have the most beautiful clothes and the best foods. Everything you can imagine!” Her small smile widened, even as tears welled in her eyes. She seemed to be trying to convince herself as much as she seemed to be convincing Kalara.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You’re a ‘Sweet Child’.” She continued in hushed whispers, Kalara listening in rapt shock. “They like how good and obedient we are. They’ll give you to people who want that. Sometimes they’re nice…but sometimes they’re not…most times they’re not…If you come here, maybe I can help. We can be sisters again!” Asha squeezed her hand again, desperate, it seemed, for an ally.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kalara hardly had time to process Asha’s warning before the voice of another attendant caused her to quickly pull her hand away, Asha rising and disappearing with her head low with practiced obedience and stealth.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For most of the outing, the laughter of the other Scraps echoed in the hall, the comfort they had eclipsed by Asha’s terrified grip. She scratched the scar of the brand as she stared into the waters, the meaning of that brand finally dawning on her. Sweet Children…Auntie had written their fate from the first moment she’d set that mark on them. When she couldn’t stand the laughter of the other children anymore, she wandered farther away from the pool, pretending to nurse a cart of cakes and food they’d brought in for them to dine on.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She thought she heard Asha’s voice then, a screaming yell that echoed just barely from down the hall nearby. All of her common sense told her not to follow it, to let things be.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But against her own best judgment, she found her feet carrying her to the sound. She just had to know. She had to know what her warning truly meant. Just when she thought Asha’s voice might have been a figment of her imagination, she heard a soft whimpering that ended in a strange dampened moan. The light coming from the crack of a curtained doorway cut a swath of bright red light across the shadowed hallway that led her inevitably to the sound.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Other rooms along the way cast their own unique sounds, laughter, sighs, and other breathy sounds muffled by closed curtains. The further she went in, the more the sounds moved from pleasurable to…not right. With each footstep closer, she didn’t want to know, but with each whimper, she knew she must know for her own sanity if this place was to be her destiny.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She reached the crack of light that stretched down the hall, the only curtain left slightly open in the hall of shadowed crimson. It took willpower to open her eyes and peek in.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Asha was biting her lip, muffling any whimpers as they rose up. No more silks hid the canvas of red scars, cuts, sigils, and strange artistry carved into her skin. She had curled herself into a position much like a shocked calf too scared to move in the grasp of a predator. A delicate inhuman hand moved across an exposed breast, caressing it at first before plunging smoothly in. The fingers passed through the skin as if it were water, no blood, only a ripple of flesh that corrected itself without a flaw. The shocking sight caused Kalara to step back, her hands covering her mouth to stifle a scream.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Luckily for her, the client wasn’t even paying attention. The strange woman with eyes as black as coal and not a hair on her head continued reading a scroll as if this was the most normal thing in the world, her other arm content with her night’s entertainment. The woman’s skin gleamed an unearthly purple painted with ornate gold symbols from head to toe.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Asha had noticed Kalara, however. When their eyes met, she only shook her head emphatically, mouthing the word ‘Go!”, her lips quivering with suppressed emotion. Her client shifted slightly, humming to herself as she moved her hand once more, peeling back the skin of Asha’s ribs with terrifying ease, revealing her still-beating heart without a splash of blood or gore. Her organs peeked from behind her ribs, even as Asha’s eyes pleaded “GO!”<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The sound of far-off attendants in the hall hurried Kalara in her flight from that horrifying sight.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When she reached the Pool, she couldn’t talk, couldn’t eat for the rest of the night. Djali and the others couldn’t draw the voice out of her. All she could do was wrap her arms around her knees and rock.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Asha’s eyes pleaded with her still, even if she couldn’t hear her anymore.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>“Are you as sweet as the others, I wonder?”</i> Lady Salakh’s voice echoed in her mind.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The revelation of the intent of that question filled her with terror, as did the fact that Spinel had spoken not a word in denying her sale to House Sahlak as he had immediately with Djali. With all the made up terrors of Fey that danced through her nightmares, a very real monster took hold.<br />
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<b>Author's Note:</b><br />
<i>I have to point out an irony here I didn't realize till after I finished and posted the chapter. It's the sight of a Neomah's fleshcrafting entertainment that sends Kalara into a panic, and thusly on an unexpected path. </i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>However, later on (if you've kept up with <a href="http://theprojectfairy.tumblr.com/post/158070827596/sorrow-resplendent-ep2-obligatory-hot-springs" target="_blank">her Circle's adventures</a>), she attends a hot springs bathhouse once more as an adult and actually enjoys the company of Neomah attendants, one of which removes Auntie Sweet's brand from her arm at her own request.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Filling out the history of Kalara's brand and what it meant for her has added such emotional impact to the act of having it removed. Especially by a being that caused her so much fear early in life before she really understood demons aren't all monstrous.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>In fact, I imagine the Neomah noble taking her pleasures at House Sahlak's main pavilion is probably a very good patron to have...once you get to know her! A patchwork history came to me while I was writing her that she is an artist 'refining' her 'craft'. I'm intrigued by the concept of Neomah as nobles too, considering how often they're placed in positions of servitude in this setting.</i>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-43114227122306798852017-09-24T17:44:00.002-04:002017-09-27T11:32:45.070-04:00Concept Art: Kalara Vadras Casual SetI haven't had a lot of time to write on The Uncrucified lately with conventions and a busy schedule, BUT I have been chipping away at these clothing concepts for Kalara's iconic casual look over the past few weeks!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbErce2K9UiJ5ryQSQ2yyJpyk8RvmCTCFu604IHJxvRM07_-ZAnsyW2CciUxdfk1UXkCZrhTzcpJ6jHkQyfQh8EIpQ-lIq7R6I2MgzLWcmh-Fu7G8L3E6hpkIS3db0vjdNbS4BI-3ntX4/s1600/Kalara-Casual-Set.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="908" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbErce2K9UiJ5ryQSQ2yyJpyk8RvmCTCFu604IHJxvRM07_-ZAnsyW2CciUxdfk1UXkCZrhTzcpJ6jHkQyfQh8EIpQ-lIq7R6I2MgzLWcmh-Fu7G8L3E6hpkIS3db0vjdNbS4BI-3ntX4/s640/Kalara-Casual-Set.jpg" width="581" /></a></div>
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2 represents the first ever outfit I drew her in for the <a href="http://www.angelasasser.com/gallery/fantasy-art/the-uncrucified/" target="_blank">fanfic cover</a>. For Kalara, I wanted something fashionable and elegant that she could move around in. If possible, I also wanted to show her habit of wearing the craftsmanship of her Guild of artisans, which she likes to advertise by wearing their creations directly on her person.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTux_kmv_bgUFgv-2zO2PLFwNzfabmnKiJ7G51mAU451oIcxsBLEi2XCFYV2A9vVYiVX3r74cUvsnaYQYSZA3F1SFW4hB-0onAk_Poai6N0HaRj5kaqGdlwOjfPqLaoezPA-LWP6Bh9p0/s1600/The-Uncrucified-Cover-Art%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="751" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTux_kmv_bgUFgv-2zO2PLFwNzfabmnKiJ7G51mAU451oIcxsBLEi2XCFYV2A9vVYiVX3r74cUvsnaYQYSZA3F1SFW4hB-0onAk_Poai6N0HaRj5kaqGdlwOjfPqLaoezPA-LWP6Bh9p0/s320/The-Uncrucified-Cover-Art%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kalara's first iconic design. </td></tr>
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In the end, I favored the gold-green color scheme for her, which helped to set off her eyes and hair with the complementary color scheme. I also like 2, 3, and 10 for their functional simplicity that still balances her fashionista nature without going overboard. Funny enough, even after all this exploration, I still really enjoy the color scheme and outfit from that first original look!<br />
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I kept coming back to the gold trim with the swirling flame motif, which just felt right in reflecting her Southern desert heritage, as the region is represented by the element of fire. She operates currently in the Central-East area of Creation, which, to me, says she would wear clothing acclimated to the region, while still showing hints of her Southern pride in her garb's motifs.<br />
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The asymmetrical cut of her shirt in my favorite choices also seemed to feel right and presented more unique shapes that were less overtly derivative of real-world cultures.<br />
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5, as eye-catching as it is, was the pure fun design where I focused more on visuals than rationale. I think it's a cool outfit, but very out of character for her. Too flashy and more dancer-esque than stylish. I think it might be a cool outfit for her if she ever had to go in disguise on the road as a performer, perhaps!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxI2SsLiKJ0-2uTr_nj3I7186oMIPTVOaAfxj6Li4Wd8u2ajERtkJ_nN8wha2k9ICYrMobnHFDzX3HCs2pTfuuprauymi4Vjqy47Q0FTcbXJdADr835ptu0e-t4MN7H6bhyphenhyphenWhZDZC5eY/s1600/kalaracasual.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxI2SsLiKJ0-2uTr_nj3I7186oMIPTVOaAfxj6Li4Wd8u2ajERtkJ_nN8wha2k9ICYrMobnHFDzX3HCs2pTfuuprauymi4Vjqy47Q0FTcbXJdADr835ptu0e-t4MN7H6bhyphenhyphenWhZDZC5eY/s640/kalaracasual.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mood board for Kalara's casual look. See more plus individual image sources at <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/angelicshadow/the-uncrucified/" target="_blank">The Uncrucified board on Pinterest</a>.</td></tr>
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By the end of this exploration, her look started to get too formal looking, which will make them a great jumping off point when I move into her Formal and Business sets next! It's nice to have variations also if she ever decides to change clothing in the comic that might one day be.<br />
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Which looks do you guys like? It's always interesting to hear what resonates with other folks outside of my own POV!<br />
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Did you miss the live broadcast I did while I was drawing on her outfits and chatting about characters? Watch them on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtCr3gkJirVTQKPrdbKge4BszHA_OWHec" target="_blank">my YouTube channel</a>!</div>
Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-24088738119702605392017-08-02T14:05:00.002-04:002017-08-02T14:14:54.232-04:00Guest Art Feature: Formal Night Locust and Kalara by RaeliyahI've been very busy with convention prep and projects, which has meant no time to continue writing on the beta draft! This makes me a very sad panda.<br />
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Luckily, Sam aka. Raeliyah has done more amazing art of Kalara and her present day bodyguard, Night Locust, that I can share with you all in the meantime!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvDeLRJ0TJvI74H9Cw9TklrlsqPPzvjkJW7TC38th6n1Aqju-U-oSgU2vlrkY6kRXyAITsfcj5-jeRLxX70GVScN8hj3s-uxvqbUlheVJ2rrnAJ-rhQOXMdmLqHOEs3IrGOJyGMxhjD0/s1600/Night+and+Kalara+by+Raeliyah.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1115" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvDeLRJ0TJvI74H9Cw9TklrlsqPPzvjkJW7TC38th6n1Aqju-U-oSgU2vlrkY6kRXyAITsfcj5-jeRLxX70GVScN8hj3s-uxvqbUlheVJ2rrnAJ-rhQOXMdmLqHOEs3IrGOJyGMxhjD0/s640/Night+and+Kalara+by+Raeliyah.png" width="446" /></a></div>
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I just adore the detail Sam put into their outfits, like the embroidery in Night's vest and the flames in Kalara's armlet, as I'm always talking about how she enjoys flame motifs to reflect her Southern heritage. She drew a very attractive Night Locust as well. Very lovely job on his face! I haven't drawn this character much yet (aside from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/artbyangelasasser/photos/a.10152608003258458.1073741839.18719583457/10154970619138458/?type=3&theater" target="_blank">that one time</a>), so seeing another artist take on this character has helped me form a better mental image of him for myself, also.<br />
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You can see more of Sam's work at <a href="http://raeliyah.tumblr.com/post/163247939119/kalara-vadras-the-eclipse-caste-solar-at-some" target="_blank">her tumblr</a> and read more of her amazing Exalted fiction <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raeliyah/pseuds/Raeliyah" target="_blank">here</a>, as she's written some fun stories in the setting, also!<br />
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I hope to get back to this project soon. I just need to survive DragonCon and other deadlines! In the meantime, if you haven't caught up on the beta draft of <i>The Uncrucified</i> yet, you can do so <a href="https://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Uncrucified%20Beta%20Draft" target="_blank">here</a>. Happy reading!Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-33708901619222619582017-07-27T15:56:00.002-04:002017-07-27T16:06:06.049-04:00Beta Draft Ebook Files Now Available!Look who's figured out how to use Scrivener's compile functions! You can now find PDF, MOBI, and EPUB file formats of <a href="http://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Uncrucified%20Beta%20Draft" target="_blank">the beta draft of <i>The Uncrucified</i></a>! Happy day!<br />
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<b>Download your preferred file format <a href="http://theuncrucifiedreaders.blogspot.com/p/ebook.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</b></div>
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For your convenience, the PDF version even has bookmarked chapter breaks. Yay! I'll update each ebook file as new chapters become available, but they may be slightly behind the blog releases.<br />
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Enjoy this newfound convenience and remember to come back and comment on the individual chapters, if you can!Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-49283346215576429532017-07-20T01:17:00.000-04:002019-08-08T11:34:58.877-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 2 - Dream Eaten<b>RATING:</b> PG<br />
- Mature Themes<br />
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The exuberant Djali became her constant companion during those first days of uncertainty. The talkative boy made the loneliness of her abandonment by Auntie Sweets more bearable, as did the constant company of the other Scraps around her age in their barracks.</div>
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Despite the canvas walls that barely counted as walls, Kalara had a tiny space all her own, unlike the crowded bunk beds she’d shared with others at Auntie’s orphanage. A bit of charcoal pinched from the hearth at mealtime and sharpened with a piece of shale helped Kalara customize her own side of the canvas with a ten year old girl’s vision of the sun and moon with haphazard trees on the horizon, a bit of comfort in the deep tunnels where they barely ever got the chance to see the surface.</div>
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As Djali had promised, life as a Scrap wasn’t so bad. The children filtered out of their quarters at the sound of a bell in the morning, each one given a path and a task for the day. They carried water and supplies to the workers deep in the Iblan mines, delivered messages along the lines, and, most importantly, crawled into the spaces the adult workers couldn’t. A nimble child could crawl into the space between a cart and a wall and remove a jammed rock from the axle. Tiny bodies could crawl into nooks and crannies to survey new resources that might lie just beyond a crevice they would otherwise have to blast open.</div>
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A bell also rang for meals and prayer throughout the day. Another bell rang for lights out. The older Scraps in their teens would oversee the younger children and make sure they knew where to go for their daily tasks. Older workers would stop by sometimes, usually to see their own children who had been sold into service as Scraps, or to spend time with the children they had befriended. Once a week, Overseer Spinel would attend them in the mess hall where he would say his prayers and inform them of any changes in the schedule, for he was a superstitious man from Harborhead. If the stars didn’t favor a dig, he would halt it immediately and re-assign everyone at the drop of a hat.</div>
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The most dangerous job for a Scrap, however, was the runner. This child would be tasked with setting the charges of firedust and lighting it before scrambling out from the crevice to safety. If the charge didn’t go off as expected, they would also be the one to check the charges, a potentially fatal task! However, the job came with the greatest perk of being allowed a double portion at dinner and the rest of the day off.</div>
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As such, Djali became a master at this task and volunteered for it often, much to Kalara’s surprise. He was a fast runner and his unshakeable confidence in his own immortality seemed to negate his lack of common sense. None could argue with his full belly, come dinnertime, however, nor the extra free time this allowed him to run amok in the marketplace! In no time at all, the bells had chimed away another year of her life, Djali always meeting her after their shifts to share his dinner and stories with her.</div>
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One day, Kalara spotted Djali when she didn’t expect to while she was on an errand in the Sunken Bazaar to get soup ingredients for the cook. He was bobbing in and out behind the stalls like a little bird. She spotted his prey soon enough - fresh baked pastries that had been set out to cool on the back of a stall. Kalara watched the inevitable meeting of pastry and boy before she noticed the merchant about to turn around.</div>
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“Oh!” She screamed as if stabbed and dropped her groceries to the ground, clutching her stomach. Djali and merchant, both, turned to her in surprise. Kalara flailed arms and legs desperately, suffering from some as yet unthought of illness. “Aaah, gods!” She yelled as if a whole other person were bursting out from inside of her, for she had never done such a fool thing before!</div>
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Instead of rushing to her side, the merchant shouted at her. “Girl, have a fit somewhere, else! I’ve got customers here!”</div>
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“Gods! So many eyes! So many legs!” Kalara babbled nonsense, ignoring him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Djali grabbing several pastries before he dodged out the back. “The pies…the pies are cursed!” By the time her crazed rambling had subsided, a monk was crossing his beads over her. She grinned inwardly at her own performance. Once she was sure Djali was at a safe range, she caught her breath, then simply stood up, wiped off her tunic, bowed to the monk, retrieved her groceries, and continued on her way, whistling happily and leaving the monk and the small crowd of passersby perplexed.</div>
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She found Djali later when she heard him from around a corner. “Psst! Over here!” He waved her to a small nook in the wall that was safely obscured by shadow.</div>
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“You owe me some of those pies!” Kalara quipped at him. “Why are you stealing? You could get into trouble for that!” Even as she chided him, she accepted an offering of pastry. She could never shake her tastes for sweets instilled in her by Auntie. The glorious taste of honey and figs was enough to wash away any regrets for this rare treat. Foul-tempered though he was, the baker’s pies were exquisite!</div>
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“Ha, then why are you eating, oh Queen?” Djali laughed, a line of pies and pastries spread across the lap of his woolen breeches. “Besides, he’s a foul man! I’ve seen him beat beggars who get too close, even women and children!” Djali took a vengeful bite, self-assured of the justice of his stolen pie.</div>
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“How can you still eat more? You’ll get too fat to be a Scrap!” Kalara poked him in his stomach, remarking the fact he’d had double dinner just last night.</div>
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“Psh, I’ll never get fat!” He flexed his muscles. “I’m a growing boy!”</div>
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“It all goes to your fat head, I think.” Kalara mused, grinning at him.</div>
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The two sat together in the silence of pastry eating for a few long minutes, enjoying the small precious moment of freedom blissfully free of work bells or lingering tasks.</div>
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“I think I’ll have to avoid his stall for awhile so he doesn’t recognize me.” Kalara finally broke the silence, still smiling, despite an acknowledgment of caution. “I’ve never done anything like that before!”</div>
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“You were amazing!” Djali praised, clapping his hands. “I’d still think you were possessed if you weren’t eating all my pies.”</div>
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Kalara took the praise with blushing cheeks. “Hah…someone has to save your head from getting too fat.”</div>
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More silence, more pie, until the question leaked out of her from nowhere. “Djali, do you always want to be here?”</div>
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“Hmm? Where else would we be?” He looked at her with one eye, suspicious.</div>
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“I don’t know I just…want to see the sun.” She sighed, staring into the light of the largest glowstone that hung over the market, a pale imitation of the sun. A network of smaller glowstones branched out from the centerpiece to light each stall. Their light shown bright enough to illuminate the bright silks of the Despot’s sigil draped over the central stalls. Even still, it wasn’t enough for her. This light had no heat, no life. Only light.</div>
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“And maybe the moon, too.” She sighed again, her gaze lost in the cloud of moths she could just barely make out flitting around the glowstones far above, their far-off wings catching little wisps of light. “ I just get so tired of one light.”</div>
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Djali gave her a sidelong stare, his gaze searching her as he tried to understand her words. Rather than poke fun at her, per usual, he moved next to her, setting his arms on his knees and staring up at the stones as she was doing, trying to see what she was seeing beyond them. They spent as much time as they could there in silence before Kalara had to leave to get the groceries where they needed to be before anyone noticed her tardiness.</div>
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The seasons changed above them on the surface, but only the festivals of the small gods marked them below the surface of Gem. Life wound itself into an unending cycle of work, food, and sleep till the day Kalara was on her way to deliver baskets of food to the east quadrant. She accidentally bumped the arm of a worker who backed into her at the same time as she was passing behind him in a tunnel. The worker’s pickaxe slipped out of his hand and cracked into the ground sending a rock flying up into his face. The sharp edge of it glanced off the side of his skull. She quickly moved to is aid, but his strange face as he slowly turned to her stunned her to silence and she took an involuntary step back from him.</div>
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“It’s alright, Lin. I’ll be back before morning. I promise.” The lanky man grinned at Kalara, even as the blood ran down the side of the split skin of his head. His body was covered with the scars of like injuries, countless cuts that pockmarked his dark skin. An odd talisman with symbols Kalara didn’t recognize hung from a worn leather collar around the man’s neck, a charm, she would learn, to ward off possessing spirits. Eventually, another worker on the man’s crew noticed the commotion and ran up alongside them to press a cloth to the bleeding wound.</div>
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“Don’t mind him, girl.” The worker sighed and sucked his teeth, shaking his head in annoyance as he pressed a cloth to the scarred slave’s head. “The Dream Eaten don’t feel much.”</div>
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“It’s alright, Lin. I’ll be back before morning. I promise?” Came the slave’s reply, a lilt of inquiry in his muttering as he looked to the other worker.</div>
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“Dream Eaten?” Kalara gawked in morbid fascination, her eyes wide with childlike wonder and fear, unsure of what he meant.</div>
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“This poor fool came in with a cart of them. They think here so deep under Gem, the Realm won’t care if they use them.” The worker spit on the ground in disgust. “The Fey ate their souls so they’re naught more than shells. It’s a living death.” The scarred man held the cloth to his head as the other instructed.</div>
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“They say the rabblerousers get sold to them and I believe it!” The worker looked on at her, his chin tucked and the whites of his eyes prominent as he spoke in low cautious tones to her. “Keep your head down, child, and work well!”</div>
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Her small face pale with fear, Kalara nodded and swallowed, her eyes wide as she turned away from the hollow smile of the scarred man and the fearful face of the other. She heard the same muttered assurances about his safe return by morning one more time before she was too far away to hear them anymore.</div>
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She’d have no sleep that night, her young overactive mind too preoccupied with imagining how exactly a Fey might eat a person’s soul. She’d only heard bits of stories about them from the other slaves and workers. They used to live on the edges of the desert Wyld before Ikerre turned them to crystal with her holy wrath, losing herself in the process. As terrifying as it was, the thought of the prophetess reigning down holy crystal wrath riveted her at the same time. She thought of the Glittering Desert so near to the city, but so far away at the same time. Would she ever see it? One day, she and Djali might be able sneak away and see the crystals for themselves. It would be such a grand adventure!</div>
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But there was never time to think of such dreams, for the bells would always ring and there was always work to be done, even for the youngest Scraps of Gem.</div>
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<i><b>Author's Note:</b> I visited a gold mine in Dahlonega, GA. one year where I learned about their operations. For the tour, we descended into the safer parts of the mine where bats still clung to the ceilings and we explored the hollowed out tunnels. </i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>It was on this tour that I learned about the runner who would light the dynamite, who also had to check the fuse if the dynamite failed, and who was given the day off after doing such stressful work. </i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>If I recall correctly, they usually spent that day off at the bar getting wasted. I always wondered if they started to treat it like it wasn't any big deal after awhile if they could fool themselves that fortune would only ever turn badly for someone else but them.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>The image of that runner and the dark tunnels of that mine haunted me ever since that tour. I always wanted to use it in a story. I'm excited that I finally got my chance!</i>Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-60287926086942409402017-07-15T02:01:00.000-04:002019-08-08T11:33:11.709-04:00The Uncrucified [BETA] - Chapter 1 - Sweet Children<i>Welcome to the first stage of the Beta draft! After listening to feedback on the first arc of the Alpha draft, I've decided to rewrite a fairly significant portion of the beginning in Gem. Prepare yourself for more of the city and more of Djali, who was pretty popular during initial feedback!</i><br />
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<b>RATING:</b> PG<br />
- Mature Themes<br />
<b><br /></b> <b>Reading Alternatives:</b><br />
<ul style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Comment on<a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/16zyR9Td41O7MPx2VJfOXvtyCzqvJNRTIgQFz9b77cWM/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank"> </a></span><span style="color: #774c00; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;"><a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/16zyR9Td41O7MPx2VJfOXvtyCzqvJNRTIgQFz9b77cWM/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Google Drive</a></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 14.85px;"> instead. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 14.85px;">You can save this chapter in an ebook file format for any ereader at the link. Click File>Download As to download in your favorite format.<br /></span></li>
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif;">Access the entire Google Drive version of Beta chapters <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IXEzj7quTAKzJNyUUXMqGGp_8l23la-G?usp=sharing" style="color: #774c00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></li>
</ul>
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The gods took no more notice than usual on the day that a slave named Kalara was born in the dusty slums of a basement in the city of Gem. The cycle of a soul began anew, as it always did, the web of destiny continued as usual without tangles, the weavers pleased with their work. The sun moved overhead, Sol Invictus forever journeying on his sure path across the skies of Creation. If he noticed her then, he made no motions to show it. Her fate seemed settled the day she was born to a pair of slaves in an underground tenement of Gem.<br />
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If she had a last name when she was born, she would never learn it. The most the child would learn from her real parents was the melody of a lullaby sang softly in Flametongue.<br />
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Shiyan, shiyan, teyah. Sleep, sleep, my child, for the moon will always set and the sun will always rise.<br />
The Lady Moon will spread thy dreams across the sky.<br />
Shiyan, shiyan, teyah. Sleep, sleep, my child.<br />
For thy days require rest.<br />
The Lord Sun rises on those truly blessed.<br />
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Only the melody would remain in her mind, a final momento of parents Kalara would never know. She hummed it to herself as she watched the priests cover their sunken faces with black veils, muttering the prayers of Rest and Succor for their spirits. In time, she would remember only those black, motionless veils instead of her parents’ faces.<br />
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“No tears, sweet girl.” Auntie Niyan wrapped a shawl around Kalara’s shoulders and pulled her close, her dark eyes sparkling with reverence. “They have walked this path and will rise again on another. The Road to the Dragons awaits. They are free now to continue their journey to perfection.” Auntie smiled warmly, wrinkles gathering below her eyes on her otherwise smooth face. She smiled even as the priests bowed and hurried to the next residence where more corpses surely waited. The wagons of the corpse patrols would come by later to collect them, their hauls only minimally larger than the bodies they usually had to clear in summer when the heat of Gem was at its most punishing.<br />
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However, to a child only a few years old, all Kalara knew was the comforting feel of Auntie Niyan’s shawl around her shoulders. She had come to their family in a time of dire need, the girl’s parents desperate to find a place for their child away from the reach of the Blue Death. Auntie swooped in as the neighborhood good samaritan giving what children she could sanctuary from infection.<br />
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Auntie’s compassionate, but insistent grip led Kalara away from the home where she had spent her short life, away from the black veils of her parents. Auntie led her to a house deeper in the shade of the lava tube, a house filled with children like herself, orphans left in the wake of the plague.<br />
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When she was older, Kalara would remember Auntie Niyan as her first mentor in ‘successful’ business ventures, for Auntie was no fool. Unlike others who fled the plague, Auntie smelled the opportunity from far away as a carrion raiton smells the dead. While other Guild members in Gem dabbled primarily in the business of mercenaries, Auntie Niyan secured her specialty in a different kind of trade. Each child in her care earned her a stipend from the Despot’s coffer. A smart businesswoman could stretch that if she thinned the soup. </div>
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More industrious still, she would ply food and trinkets from the local merchants with her angelic nature, for who wouldn’t want to help out good, kindly Auntie who cared for so many who weren’t her own? Auntie Sweets, they called her, for she always had pockets of sweetmeats for the children. She kept her charges complacent with the promise of candies every now and then, but only if they were good, if they did what she said and behaved.<br />
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Auntie Niyan would smile even as she branded each of them high on the forearm and comforted them with sugared promises. Her kindly middle-aged features belied the strength of her firm, gaunt fingers as she held their wrists and pressed the small round bit of hot metal to their flesh. It was only a little thing and then one got a full belly of candies, a butt of bread, and a bit of meat for dinner. Their happy bellies were a small price to pay to carry the mark of the Guild, a mark of Niyan’s own design, for the rest of their lives. All would know them as her sweet children, quality slaves hand-raised in gentleness and primed for compliance and malleability.<br />
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Like all the others, Kalara endured the mark without question, for Auntie Niyan was all she knew and the smell of a rare, hearty dinner was too tempting for a child to pass up.<br />
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Thusly did Kalara’s early years pass until, one day, she dared to ask what became of her older brothers and sisters. Auntie only smiled sweetly, as she always did, distracting Kalara by requesting she braid her hair as she often liked before bedtime. She sent Kalara to bed that night with warm meat pie and the promise of answers on the morrow.<br />
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The next day, she took Kalara to the market with her and sold her to her first master - Spinel Lakni, a retainer of House Iblan.<br />
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Kalara would never forget Auntie’s parting words. Even as she spoke them, Auntie Niyan petted her hair affectionately and spoke truth. “This is your path, my sweet girl. You are a slave and you must work hard.”<br />
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Kalara could only stare on as the world around her moved on without acknowledgment or care of her fortune.<br />
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“You will do for this good man what he says. Be diligent, be obedient.” She cupped the girl’s chin in her hands, her heart true in her advice to her young charge. “The world will never be what you want of it in this life. Walk your path well and the next life will be kinder.” Auntie gave her one last look, her gaze searching Kalara’s face as if she were well and truly a proud parent about to send her child off to her first day of school. For her part, Auntie tried to make sure she was not selling her sweet children to those who were overly cruel.<br />
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Somewhere deep down, Kalara knew, had always known. She had always been too smart to accept the lies about the older children that Auntie always told them. The truth felt like a stone in her stomach, a bitter truth which had been lodged there for a long time now. She watched with tearless eyes as Auntie Niyan completed her transaction, setting the scroll of paper that represented Kalara’s contract into the calloused palm of Spinel. </div>
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Auntie haggled for a discount on account of the other mouths she had to feed and their long working relationship, even as Kalara watched on in numb obedience. Auntie had apparently been selling children to the same vendor for a long time. The miner turned overseer didn’t have a fine eye for noticing the forgeries she had made of the childrens’ ownership papers, or he simply didn’t care as long as the papers effectively passed an audit, which they did.<br />
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Kalara, whose surname she had never learned from her ailing parents, became documented on her contract as a surname-less child, her name stripped from her along with her past. But such was a small crime in comparison to letting the poor girl die along with her parents or in the streets according to good Auntie Niyan.<br />
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But what did a slave need with such distractions? Good Auntie bid farewell to her darling ‘daughter’ and set back towards home with one less mouth to feed, her soul not made at all heavy by her small lies for greater good and profit, for her financial success meant she could harbor more children safely for a time before their little worlds could be ruined by the harsh reality around them.<br />
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Spinel Lakni barely acknowledged Kalara’s presence as she stared on at him full of uncertainty. He didn’t even bother to look at her, the man still reading his work orders as he spoke his usual orientation speech with the ease of monotonous repetition. His skin was darker than hers, his gold ear cuffs and rings shining in the softly lit darkness of the Sunken Bazaar, such finery as befitting a retainer of House Iblan, the famed goldsmiths of Gem. Though he had a roughness to him, having once been a mining slave, himself, before he’d struck gold in his 35th year of service.<br />
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“Work is sunup to sundown. Breaks for meals and prayers. Don’t be late or you won’t eat. Don’t steal or I’ll have your fingers, girl.” He showed no emotion save certainty as he stated the dire consequences of theft. At a nod, a boy not too much older than her stepped from the back of the stall where he’d been unloading boxes of ore. He looked her up and down before smiling wide, the dust and dirt that clung to him making his teeth gleam like pearls against the rest of him.<br />
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“Well, you better come with me, then!” The grimy boy dared to make fun of the overseer. “He gets grumpy before lunch!”<br />
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“None of your funny business, boy!” The distracted Spinel grunted in response and continued his work without even turning his head to them. “I trust you’ll get her settled in by next shift.”<br />
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The filthy boy strode through the tunnels with long steps, bouncing along through the softly lit shafts with the familiarity of one who’d made the trip a thousand times. Kalara followed behind in solemn silence, only making noise when she stumbled in a shadowed area neglected by the mirrors and glowstones.<br />
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“Tsk. You will learn!” She heard him speak nearby, the boy completely comfortable in the darkness.<br />
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She felt his hand take hers and found herself led along until they reached a modest lava tube subdivided by stalagmites and thick canvas curtains supported by strings anchored into the adjacent cave walls. Each compartment had a small sack filled with cotton to act as a bed and a small box for storing equipment and clothing.<br />
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“Welcome to my humble abode!” The boy spread his arms wide and puffed his chest as if he were showing her the most opulent parlor of the Red Stone quarter. He acted as if the entirety of the apartments all belonged to him, even when it was obvious that they didn’t. Spurred by his enthusiasm, Kalara looked over the drab space attempting to find some wonder in it, but failed miserably.<br />
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She soon found the boy’s face in front of hers mimicking her own stern expression. “Serious Girl! Do you have a name or should I call you Queen of Scraps?”<br />
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Taken aback for a moment by his playful chiding, Kalara’s grimaced deepened. “It’s Kalara.” She huffed at him, crossing her arms to hide her discomfort. “Filthy Boy! Do you have a name? What on earth is a Scrap, anyways?”</div>
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“It’s Djali!” He hopped back a step and held out his dirt-covered hand to her. Kalara stared at it for a moment before taking it with some hesitation. Djali shook her hand once with a strong jerk. “And a Scrap is what you are now!”<br />
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Kalara looked unsatisfied with his explanation.<br />
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“Trust me, Serious Girl…” He put his hands on his waist, proud in his role as orientation giver. “There are worse things to be in Gem!”</div>
Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-70209866029049372902017-07-06T13:29:00.001-04:002021-07-26T21:23:59.688-04:00VISUAL GUIDE: The City of Gem<b>Welcome to the City of Gem! </b> Before I continue re-writing <a href="http://theuncrucified.angelasasser.com/" target="_blank">The Uncrucified</a>, I wanted to familiarize myself with the many locations before I move on to the next draft. The rule book for the South leaves a lot for our imaginations to fill in, so I wanted to fill in those gaps for my own writing and art purposes with this write-up and visual guide!<br />
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<i><span style="color: red;">For further reading on Gem, as the following is only a brief summary of </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: red;">key visuals and concepts for my own purposes, </span></i><i><span style="color: red;">be sure </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: red;">to check out <a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/59982/The-Compass-of-Terrestrial-Directions-Vol-IV--The-South" target="_blank">the official rulebook on The South</a>!</span></i></div>
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The City</h3>
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As far south as south goes lies the city of Gem, a city warmed by the winds of the elemental pole of Fire and held together by the industry and greed of its inhabitants.<br />
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Founded by the industrious miner, Rankar I, who struck precious stones on a dig, the city rests in the caldera of an ancient volcano, Rankar Peak, nestled in the Fire Mountains, a chain of active volcanos stretching from north to south across the region of the South. Citizens inhabit the surface of the caldera as well as great subterranean markets filled with all kinds of wonders.<br />
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Unlike the other major trade center of Chiaroscuro, Gem would evolve completely without the aid or luxury of First Age technology.<br />
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The Despot</h3>
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Rankar I would become known as the Despot, the ruler of the city who would monopolize the gem trade for himself and raise his business associates to the status of noble. With their combined interests, they would keep a stranglehold on the economy and wealth of the city. Despots would come and go in a series of uprisings over the generations, but the role of the ruler would always remain along with the Houses, keeping a balance of power till current times under the rule of Kolar III, the alleged rightful heir to the original family line of Rankar I.<br />
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The Despot's palace is the most prominent landmark of the city, a structure so tall that it exists both partially underground and above the surface in a prime spot with the most shade inside the caldera. Underground, a long avenue usually frequented by guards, slaves, and citizens leads up to the palace, which is adorned with decorative Glowstones for illumination. Statues of the previous Despots line the main gates of the palace.<br />
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Whoever the Despot is at any given time, this ruler and their family remain the sole proprietors of the gem trade in Gem. Anyone caught buying or selling gems without their consent is liable to be put to death.<br />
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The Red Stone District</h3>
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The red light district of the city caters to all manner of wants and desires. Red silk drapes on the windows and decorative Glowstones cast the area in a surreal light, welcoming people into a bawdy dream. Interests range from mundane encounters to interludes with gods and demons in the more exclusive brothels.</div>
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The Sunken Bazaar</h3>
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The main market stretches across the expanse of a large lava tube with the central district dedicated to the Despot's gem trade and the noble houses demarcated by bright silks. Alongside gems, one can find items from all over Creation. The farther from the central district one is, the less upstanding (and less safe) the shops and area become.</div>
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The Sun Market</h3>
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Above the surface during the hot hours of the day lies the Sun Market, the black market where one procures any illegal items that might draw suspicion normally. This temporary market exists only from sunup to sundown during the hottest parts of the day when nobody ventures forth. Most merchants keep themselves cool by covering themselves from head to toe or using magical means to withstand the sun.</div>
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<b>Design Notes:</b> <i>I imagine this market to be made of makeshift tents and questionable quality goods, unlike the Sunken Bazaar with its more permanent decorative carts and stalls.</i></div>
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<br />The Mercenary Market</h3>
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This flesh market specializes in the procurement and selling of soldiers and mercenaries, of which there is a high population in the city. The Guild participates most widely in this area of industry.</div>
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The Gemfolk</h3>
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Social status can be fluid in Gem. A slave might strike rich upon discovering a large gem in the mines or from the favor of someone already in power. A wealthy individual might sell a family member into slavery if they can't pay their business fees, which are owed to dubious collectors. Because of this precarious social fluidity, most Gemfolk don't discriminate between new and old wealth.</div>
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Outside of the crushing schedule of sleep and work, most citizens find respite in a regular cycle of festivals, feast days, and weddings or the amply available brothels and gambling parlors available to citizens from all walks of life.</div>
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<b>Design Notes:</b> <i>I envision the upper class quarters having more ornate methods of utilizing Glowstones for their residential areas by using intricately crafted lamps and glass to cast colorful light in their areas. </i><i>Meanwhile, the lower class quarters can't afford such finely crafted luxury and must rely on raw unadorned stones and holders for their light sources.</i><br />
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The Noble Houses</h3>
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Each noble house represents a trade that bolsters the monopoly the city holds over the wealth of the South.</div>
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The Despot controls the gem trade, while House Arbani arms the military with their black powder guns. House Circla provides the manpower in soldiers and gladiators, while House Sahlak provides succor and secrets with their brothels and dream parlors. House Iblan specializes in silver and gold refinement and distribution, while House Trasti provides a backbone of banking and gambling in their palatial casinos.</div>
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The houses try to gain advantage over each other and regularly rail against the rule of the Despot, but all need each other for Gem to remain the bastion of wealth in the deepest South ruled by the element of Fire and untameable desert.</div>
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<b>Design Notes:</b> <i>I've included a portrait of a character representing the head of each noble house on the top-right of each section dedicated to the noble houses on the sheet.</i></div>
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<i>On the section for House Arbani, I've included a strip on the bottom for real-world maker's marks. I imagine House Arbani has a house sigil they stamp on their widely available line of guns. However, I imagine Arbani Halan, the house founder, has a personal insignia he uses to mark the guns crafted by his own hand which are not available for sale. Such treasures are only available as a personal gift from such a fine craftsman who would never profane such an item by selling it, as the rulebook states.</i></div>
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<h3><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #111111; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 15px;">Download a PDF of this visual guide <a href="http://www.angelasasser.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/Visual-Guide-The-Uncrucified-City-of-Gem.pdf" target="_blank">here</a> (6.17MB).</span></li><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: 15px;">Find the individual images with links to their original sources <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/angelicshadow/the-uncrucified/gem/">here</a><span id="goog_1132712374"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1132712375"></span>.</span></span></li><li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: 15px;"><b>Find the blank template of this guide <a href="https://angelasasserart.gumroad.com/l/jFmde" target="_blank">here</a>.</b></span></span></li></ul>
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Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-90263633288923311502017-07-04T00:26:00.002-04:002017-08-02T14:31:56.693-04:00Fan Art Feature: Koh and Kalara by RaeliyahCamp NaNoWriMo has come around again for July and that means I'm doubly motivated to get working on The Uncrucified! I've set a Camp NaNoWriMo goal for myself of editing, reading, and working on this story for a minimum 30 minutes every day. I've already been massively productive, which you can see a blow by blow of my Camp NaNo progress over at <a href="http://the/" target="_blank">my personal tumblr</a>.<br />
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I've started on some really cool inspiration sheets for the setting I intend to share here, but until they're ready to share as a complete collection, enjoy another fan art feature of <a href="https://twitter.com/milvusrae" target="_blank">Raeliyah</a>'s work! She did this fantastic portrait of Kalara wining and dining dignitaries with her merchant prince, Koh. Most people don't know that they are actually one and the same person, but she cleverly convinced her Circle's Night Caste to pose as her alter ego to throw off her growing list of enemies. </div>
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In a hilarious turn of events, the two are rumored to be lovers. Talk about self-love!</div>
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I love Raeliyah's attention to detail with Kalara's gold makeup and fantastic outfit. She even remembered to include Koh's glasses, which are a momento of Kalara's father.</div>
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<a href="http://68.media.tumblr.com/6ada7237ac82d9ec0f74d895b4c75f7b/tumblr_on5sdlJsna1sccyhco1_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="800" height="452" src="https://68.media.tumblr.com/6ada7237ac82d9ec0f74d895b4c75f7b/tumblr_on5sdlJsna1sccyhco1_1280.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3218220496211039702.post-2526506128580670842017-06-20T16:47:00.001-04:002017-08-02T14:32:05.000-04:00Fan Art Feature: Kalara Vadras by Rage-HaloWhile we wait on more story to be written, I thought I'd feature some of the amazing art inspired by The Uncrucified! I commissioned Rage-Halo on DA for a simple portrait of Kalara. He surprised me with this full colored lovely!<br />
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I haven't quite defined the designs on Kalara's artifact flame pieces just yet, which made this a special treat to see what the artist did with them! I always imagined them appearing similar to the Indian matchlock weaponry I've seen with ornately styled panels in metal, wood, and shell. For the curious, I've saved all the weaponry references for Kalara onto <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/angelicshadow/the-uncrucified/" target="_blank">my story's board on Pinterest</a>.<br />
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I think this green vest dress is becoming iconic for her as well. I'll have to play with a fully body shot of it sometime!<br />
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Go Favorite Rage-Halo's piece on DeviantART <a href="http://rage-halo.deviantart.com/art/Commission-Kalara-Vadras-685111602" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<a href="http://pre01.deviantart.net/18a9/th/pre/f/2017/158/f/d/_commission__kalara_vadras_by_rage_halo-dbbwbhu.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="591" height="640" src="https://pre01.deviantart.net/18a9/th/pre/f/2017/158/f/d/_commission__kalara_vadras_by_rage_halo-dbbwbhu.png" width="472" /></a></div>
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EDIT: Rage-Halo did <a href="http://rage-halo.deviantart.com/art/Random-Kalara-Sketch-688885122" target="_blank">another gift art piece</a> of Kalara I thought I'd add. So cool to see her doing the gun-fu I haven't had a chance to draw her doing yet!</div>
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<a href="http://orig03.deviantart.net/20cf/f/2017/177/4/1/random_kalara_sketch_by_rage_halo-dbe575u.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="800" height="385" src="https://orig03.deviantart.net/20cf/f/2017/177/4/1/random_kalara_sketch_by_rage_halo-dbe575u.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Angela R. Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12236117446115598736noreply@blogger.com0