Benison Ioduok could open a door and arrive anywhere on Solkin, it was true. But the magic of a Story Keeper took a toll on the body, the soul, and the universe. So when he could, the old man walked or rode from one place to the next. Unfortunately, the world needed him more urgently than ever, it seemed, and his appointments rarely allowed it these days.
In fact, as he walked through the door which took him from a northern fishing village to a cave in eastern Penscarop, the Story Keeper was already late for his next meeting. Benison shook his head and pulled out his pocket watch, which had over a dozen different faces in five different numeral systems. He found the one for this particular region and adjusted the time a half hour back. The gears creaked and resisted as he turned them, but at last they acquiesced, and Benison was on time.
He leaned a little heavier on his cane. Continue reading “Good King Dundermoat, Part One”
Of all the humanoid races of Solkin, avayla had the shortest lifespan. They lived, on average, to be about forty-five. At fifty, they were truly ancient. Some speculated that this resulted in a stronger inclination toward caution and self-preservation than other species; if they were only getting at most fifty years, they were going to get as many as possible, darn it. Continue reading “Recursion, Epilogue”
Linda Arterford hated sweeping, something she was presently doing, and found herself doing often in recent days. One of the few things she hated more than sweeping was being angry at her dearest friend, something she was presently doing, and found herself doing often in recent days. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Seven”
A number of unfortunate situations can be attributed to a failure in communication. For example, linguistic barriers between Dol elves and their dwarven neighbors created confusion that led to the Orichalcum Wars which lasted for many centuries. Personal barriers can also result in poor communication, such as when a very literal person asks an irate person for directions, and spends six days sailing up the Yores River and rediscovering the ancient art of necromancy. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Six”
The way many told it, the legend of the Suntouched was a succession of successes. Climbing Mount Paylor, mastering one weapon after the next, discovering mythic treasures, defeating this monster or winning that battle. Of course, like most legends, it was largely a lie of omission. The Suntouched had failed many times. Mostly in the early days, but some were more recent, like his defeat at the hands of Ulthanadon, The Mad Dragon, or his role in the creation of The Below. And, most prevalent in his mind these days, the failure at Tinderleaf. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Five”
Hey, so I didn’t put up an episode this week, and I probably won’t next week either, but it’s not because I’m being hard on myself this time. In fact, I’m pretty excited about the future of Odd & Ends, and I have a lot of fun ideas for the next few storylines. Some will be funny, some will be less funny, and some will take us away from Skymoore for a bit!
However, I am but a human living in a human body, and that human body has recently been hit with some major sickness. Nothing serious, just annoying, and my writing is suffering a bit. That, and I am building up a buffer. And there’s another, more exciting reason for the delay that I don’t want to talk about yet!
But the end of Recursion will be up relatively soon (two more parts and an epilogue), and after that, we’re gonna go away from Donovan for a bit and focus on some of the side characters.
Lastly, I just want to thank Stable, J. Ander, and Hazel for reading my stuff and keeping me motivated. You guys are cool!
When Pulldrid the Riser lifted the city of Seamoore into the sky, he made sure to take much of the eastern farmland with it. However as local historian, soothsayer, and political commentator Andrea Greycastle noted in her award-losing book, 49 Things You Didn’t Know About the Past, Present, and Future of Skymoore: Number 18 Will Fill Your Soul With Existential Dread, “Pulldrid the Riser was a socially insensitive jerkwad! Did you know that eighty-percent of the farmland he took with him when he selflessly saved Seamoore from destruction was land belonging to Goldsoil Farm, which is owned by bourgeoisie hags and exploits the common man like you and, to a lesser extent, like me? That’s, like, really unfair! Their low wages and long hours have led to the poor and crime-infested state of the Mish Mash (look it up), and they keep the handful of remaining farms from reaching their full potential by signing exclusivity deals with local restaurants. Uncool, Pulldrid! Very uncool!” Continue reading “Recursion, Part Four”
Thursday, Spring 51, 1677 was a rather ordinary day in most respects. The sun shone brightly in Skymoore, as it often did. The birds were chirping loudly, communicating the secret messages of a vast network of organized crime, as they often were. And Odd & Ends was empty, as it often was.
Empty, that is, except for Donovan Allman, who tapped his fingers in rhythm with the birds outside (in flagrant violation of Skymoorian Law), and Nestor Pinkly, who hummed an accompanying tune (this was fine) as he alphabetized a shelf of enchanted toys based on the unofficial names he’d given them that day (Spinny Doodad, Bouncing Thingamajig, Flashing Whosawhatsit). The latter was enjoying himself, the former was not. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Three”
“Was the Suntouched ever in love?” Karessa asked one day as Donovan limped onto the store floor from his living quarters. Everyone had noticed the limp, but Donovan didn’t acknowledge it, so neither did they. It was looking better, anyhow. “Any special women in his life?”
“No,” Donovan replied, perhaps too quickly.
“Wha? No! Er, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Of course there isn’t.”
“Shouldn’t even need to say it.”
“But you did.”
“Well, anyways, the Suntouched had neither.”
“Really? He galivanted all over the world for what – thirty years? Fifty? – and he never had a girlfriend? A lover? A fling?” Continue reading “A Brief Note on the Love Life of the Suntouched, wherein we Briefly Check in on the Lives of Donovan Allman and Karessa Plunderton, and Which Contains a Very Long Title as to Obfuscate the Miniscule Length of the Piece Itself”