[Winter Contest Entry 2018] Fantastic Paths

Ignatius pressed his back against the cold stone wall as he was catching his breath, slowly, deeply, and fearfully. Hollow steps echoed down the ruined hall. He could hear them grow closer as he opened an aged tome. He sputtered some words in an ancient tongue, reading the text, but stuttering. The steps continued as the sound of rattling joined them. They grew in tempo, Ignatius knew his time was running out. Yet, his voice froze and shook. The steps neared, turning a corner to face this young Halfling mage. Ignatius turned his head as he saw the pale visage of the dead, the black void in its sockets consuming his reason and logic, robbing his sense of action. The skeleton raised its spiked club and prepared to bring it down onto its victim, and yet its attempt was stifled as it was struck from the other side, a heavy steel shield bashed the back of its head. The bones tumbled and fell apart, gathering onto the floor. “Co-Conrad! You did him in!”

“Not yet…” The pile of corrupted bones rattled, shifting, attempting to rearrange itself back into proper form. Conrad’s heavy boot smashed into the wobbling skull, shattering the dome and the heap ceased its shaking. “There.” The plated man knelt towards the pile, making sure, but in his inspection, he was unprepared as a second horror charged him from behind. The skeleton held up its sword and prepared to slash the grizzled man, but Ignatius, in his shock, screamed out the spell he prepared to speak earlier. The ancient words melded together as the movement of the young man’s arm carried the spell forth, consuming the materials in his hand as it shot forth, blasting the monster’s rib cage and sending its pieces flying outward, a few pieces pinging against the back of Conrad’s plated armor. Its charred skull crashed against the wall and hit the ground, rolling in front of Ignatius. He recoiled, but there remained no force left to bring this dead back to life. “Nicely done, lad.” Conrad stood up and brushed some ash off his armor.

“Ah, Conrad, your face…” A flying splinter of bone slashed his face in the explosion causing a drop of blood to trickle down. The grayed, bearded man raised a hand to his ally, calming him, then placed that hand toward his cheek. He closed his eyes and spoke a few divine words, holding a relic on a leather string around his neck with his other hand. A golden light emitted from the palm near his cheek, sealing the cut and mending flesh.

“Good as new, then. And you? Are you hurt?” Ignatius shook his head; he was unharmed. Although this journey took a toll on his mind, he tried to keep those worries to himself, even though Conrad, in his experience, could see through that attempt. To Conrad, Ignatius was still a boy, and being a Halfling didn’t help. He was too young to be tagging along, he had promise as a student of the arcane, and yet these times forced them together for the good of the realm. Conrad smirked and brought his gauntlet down onto the youth’s head, ruffling his hair. “Come, Iggy. We must regroup with the others.” Ignatius felt comfort in being in the care of the man that reminded him of his father, of whom he had not seen since before journeying to submit himself as apprentice to the Mage’s Circle. If nothing else, he was grateful for that much. Hopefully the others fared just as well as they did.

---



Three figures sat in a room. Drops of melting ice periodically patted against the stone floor in the corner. The tall, dark-skinned figure grunted on occasion as the short one ignored him with closed eyes. The last one, even shorter than the previous, arranged and tuned a lute in her lap. The image would be serene, if not for the relentless groans of lurkers beyond the sealed door to the room. “They’re not letting up. We can’t stay holed up here forever. Let them come and we’ll break them apart!” The muscular one growled out and picked his axe up from the ground, the hefty blade scraping against the stone blocks below. He slammed the heft into the floor to accent his point.

“Just a little longer. I’ve almost fixed this here,” the extravagantly-dressed lady Gnome said rather plainly. She manipulated a few tuning pegs on the head of the instrument, replacing some broken strings with new ones.

“You’re loud, Strom. Even for an Orc,” the middle-heightened one opened his eyes, sighed, and paused, “but ultimately correct.” He inhaled deeply, audibly, and exhaled slowly in meditation.

“And you’re too calm, you know-nuthin’. Where’s that Dwarven temper when it’s needed?” Scratches could be heard on the other side of the stone door There would be only one way out of this mess.

“Wilhelm’s from the monastery of the Order. His skill comes from his patience. I suppose that makes him your opposite.” She tightened the new strings, plucking them gently and tuning them accordingly. “Between enlightenment and honor, I suppose you’re similar in that you will both live and die by your codes.”

The axe banged against the ground once more “There will be no dying today, Charlotte. Let us return the already dead to their place!” Strom got up, laid his axe against the door, cracked his knuckles, and wound his arms.

The plucked lute strings sounded a harmony. “Ah! Perfect! All set here.” Charlotte stood, discarding the broken, faulty strings, and readied the instrument in playing position.

Wilhelm took a long breath inwards until a light emanated from his eyes behind his lids. He opened them slowly as the yellow hue glowed and pierced the dim room. He raised onto his feet, but it was as if he levitated upwards in defiance of gravity. “Come, then. Let us begone from this place and convene with the rest...before more show up to bar our path.” The stout, yet thin and underfed Dwarf stood behind the Orc as he grabbed his axe and readied to unbar the door.

“Right behind you,” Charlotte took her place in third as she readied to play as magnificent a solo as she could muster. They arranged by height, but also by strategy.

“Yes! Have at them! Leave none standing!” Strom roared as he lifted the bar from the brackets. Charlotte strummed the lute as she began the song. The door opened outwards and undead bodies fell in the hall, knocked back by the door. Strom held the bar in front as a guard and let out a loud battle cry as he charged through the hall of the decaying, walking corpses, knocking them aside. Wilhelm followed, stepping lightly over the bodies as Charlotte trailed behind. In Wilhelm’s enlightenment, he could hear the monastic gongs from his memories. Nostalgic spiritual chants erupted from his mouth. Strom’s battle cry and Wilhelm’s chants became choral accompaniment to Charlotte’s lute. The sounds of bodies being knocked around, their hollowed bones clacked against the stone walls and floors, were like percussion.

So, they traveled. Axe and fist met undead frames, spurred on by their skirmisher’s song, until all the dead were left behind in the cold, dark halls, their feeble limbs unable to catch up. The three fled onward to where their quest led them, where they hoped they would be reunited with their other half.

---



A lone woman hunched down on her hands and knees, hard at work scrawling runes around a circle etched in chalk and ash. Raven’s feathers, a bowl of writhing worms, and a translucent blue stone surrounded the center which contained a pile of charred bones. A robed man approached her from outside the ruined sanctuary, ascending the steps of the chancel. “Mistress, the trespassers have fled from our minions, you will not be distracted from creating the link.” A low chuckle came from the woman.

“Good. Now guard the entrance and be prepared. Our master’s army will soon drown this place.” The acolyte bowed and turned to leave down the aisle between old rotting pews. He left through the main door but failed to notice the figure hiding against the wall, calculating his steps with keen ears. As he turned, a slender Elf stuck a dagger upwards through the bottom of his jaw, piercing his tongue and the roof of his mouth. A bloody gurgle escaped him before he was dragged out of sight. Unfortunately for this willowy Elf, it did not go unnoticed.

The hunched hag raised off her hands and peered down the aisle to the door. She stood and grabbed a gnarled staff from the altar. Animal bones, talons, and a bag of teeth hung from the twisted ring on the top, all tied on with human hair. “It’s too late, you knave! You won’t stop it. The heralding won’t be hindered.” The air within the cathedral shifted as the Elf snuck in and tiptoed about, remaining stealthy. She silently crept around behind pews and pillars as the witch turned, looking for her assailant. It wasn’t until she ascended the steps of the central plateau that she was finally detected. “Reveal thyself!” The staff raised, glowed a luminous purple, and crashed into the ground, spouting flickering purple and pink flames outward as they soon cascaded down and revealed the Elf’s form. She pulled back on a nocked arrow that she had drawn in preparation, ready to let it loose on her enemy. As she let go, her arrow sailed and became deflected by a shining white glyph that protected her target.

“Enough! You will not leave this place alive. Now, melt!” The sorceress placed her hand on the top of her staff and chanted ancient words. A globule of bubbling green expanded on the staff as she twisted it and slung the corrosive matter at the intruder. The elf rolled far out of the way to escape the acidic splash as it hit the stone and a nearby pew, eating the matter and dissolving the already rotting and damp wood. On her recovery, she nocked another arrow, but the witch laughed. “Try again! You will fail once more.” The Elf, her stoic features unresponsive to the taunting words, tilted her bow towards the blue stone on the glyph that the enchantress had built, letting it loose and hitting it with perfect aim. The stone reacted to the blow and exploded into a blue puff of smoke. “No! No! My hard work! You fool!” The witch had turned, distracted by the meddling of her creation. She dropped her staff and extended her arms towards the circle, as if it would somehow reverse the destruction. In her dismay, she could not defend herself as the Elven woman grabbed her mouth from behind and drove a dagger into her side. She screamed out into the fingers that muffled her lips as the dagger was pulled free. The hand that clasped her mouth slipped up to cover her eyes and raise her head, revealing her neck. “It…it’s too late for you. He will come to rule…over this land. And there is nothing. Nothing you can do to stop it. His army will come. They will—” The dagger sliced against the maniacal woman’s throat. Her life ended as she was let go and fell to the ground.

The Elf grabbed the witch’s staff and smashed it against the feathers and the bowl of worms. She knocked the pile of bones against the circle, scrubbing and erasing the runes of chalk. No one would be able to repair the glyph easily. When she was satisfied with her desecration, she cracked the staff against the floor, splintering it into disuse. With no further need to remain, she fled the sanctuary with her dark cloak flowing behind her. Delilah trailed after the allies she was separated from.

---



Six brave souls joined together at the base of an icy trail up the mountainside, the ruined church behind them. The moon lit up the snow and ice, thankfully providing enough light to ascend the staircase. They stepped lightly, careful not to slip and bring an abrupt end to their journey. Strom took the lead, sniffing the air as they went in search of the scent of death and decay. Conrad was right behind him, readying to protect the front to face whatever they met. Wilhelm, Ignatius, and Charlotte followed in respective order with Delilah guarding the flank, acutely listening for sounds coming from elsewhere than their group.

In due time, they climbed to the top, greeted by violet skies. Dawn was approaching. Headstones welcomed them, and more obelisks lined the path towards stone ruins up on top of the highest plateau on the mountain before the peak. “What is this place?” Strom questioned.

“It’s traded many hands throughout the years. The Order used to use it as a hermitage, thus the basilica from before,” Wilhelm responded, and Ignatius then supplemented.

“And before that, they say the Mage’s Circle used to occupy it, to train geomancers and hydromancers to shift mountains and manipulate the weather.” As they went along the path, great pillars came into view, arranged in symmetrical and seemingly important locations.

“I’ve heard stories from taletellers that this place is even older than that. An ancient race used it as an observatory to chronicle the stars,” Charlotte professed as the image enchanted her.

“And it was a military outpost for a time as well, most recently. Behold: the watchtower we were told of.” Conrad peered and motioned to the side. A small watchtower was constructed to allow a few sentries to keep watch of the valleys below. The brazier on top, under the canopy, had indicated it was used but left to fizzle likely by fleeing soldiers. “Now beware. The scouts claimed they fled this place from the undead. I fear here is where we might meet the source of this nefarious blight.” The rest of the group readied their weapons and prepared for what they might find.

As they closed in on the center of the ruins and pillars, more circles and obelisks were revealed, outlined and surrounded in circular stones and patterns. Ignatius looked towards the pillars at the centers of their circles and then peered upwards to the stars in the sky. The pillars pointed to some recognizable constellations, some unknown. “The tales of this place being an ancient observatory might have held truth. Look, this one points to the constellation of the Black Skull, and that one to the White Maiden’s Crown. But, there are some I don’t know. Which one is the one in the center?”

“The Dark Abyss,” a voice spoke and echoed out from an altar behind the astrological architecture. The group turned towards the low voice as a large, hooded and robed, male figure stepped out of a portal of swirling gray and black. “Tonight, through the accordance of sacred Black Geometry, my realm is connected to this one. Like fresh fruit, it has ripened, ready to harvest.” Without pause, Delilah let loose several arrows towards the man, asking no questions. The arrows deflected off white glyphs of protection, just as they had done the witch from before. “The alignment is complete.” The man slammed the heft of his staff, exquisitely crafted in dark wood and marble, into the ground. At that moment, colored portals opened inside the ruins next to corresponding pillars. “With the link complete, my army will flood these lands until this entire realm belongs only to me.”

“Who are you?” Charlotte inquired. The group shifted its attention to the portals as undead and demonic limbs extended out of them, seeking entry into this world.

“My name is De Mont, your new lord—and I thank this land for providing me a suitable welcoming sacrifice. Your resurrected corpses will house the spirits of my generals to this realm.”

“Rah! Enough chatter! Your weak army will be destroyed!” Strom screamed out and leapt towards a portal. He slammed his axe down onto a winged muscular demon partway out of the gateway, severing the part that made it through from the rest. He made a follow-up swing at the portal, but it did not phase. However, it did shimmer and reveal a connection to the pillar. “Ah, so is this it?” Strom wasted no time and kicked the pillar off its stand, smashing it to pieces as it crashed against the stone floor. The portal thereby shifted and slowed, blinking out of existence. “Aha! That’s it! Just destroy the pillars to stop them from coming!” He called out to the others and they simultaneously split towards the few portals remaining.

Delilah and Wilhelm sprinted towards another, the portal pouring out imps of many colors. Delilah shot a few down with her arrows as Wilhelm flipped over those that dove towards him, landing before the portal and striking the pillar with a strong open-palm. The pillar toppled, and the gateway closed. Delilah and Wilhelm went back-to-back, striking and slashing the remaining imps.

Conrad and Charlotte raced towards the third portal, already surrounded by a group of zombies and skeletons. Conrad extended his shield before him as Charlotte strummed a chord on her lute, beginning a song and empowering Conrad. He slashed one zombie down with his sword and bashed a skeleton approaching from behind it with his shield. As the zombies shuffled closer, with the skeletons ready to have their turn as soon as they closed the distance, Conrad sheathed his blade and held the holy symbol of his deity. He held his shield out to keep the monsters at bay while he mouthed a prayer and held the pendant high. At the completion, his person became a bright, shining beacon and filled the undead in front of him with a supernatural fear. They ran from him, away from the observatory ruins and jumped off the ledge of the mountain if they could have made it. The slower zombies had their heads decapitated by Conrad’s blade as he made his way to the pillar with Charlotte not far behind. However, a monstrosity made of bones had just fit through the portal, larger than any being in the vicinity.

Conrad watched as the golem stood tall, then held up his shield as the goliath raised an arm and slammed Conrad. Despite bracing with his shield, the impact of the blow sent him flying back behind Charlotte. She called out to him as he fell to the ground, struggling to stand and find the shield and sword that had flew out of his hands. Charlotte turned her attention back to the large monster and began to chant a spell. She reached into a pouch and held an ingredient in her fist as she plucked strings on her lute. The spell sounded out, consuming the material and the construct shook and quaked. Its form constricted and rounded until it had become a dismissive sheep. It bleated harmlessly as Conrad approached it and took a deep breath before bringing his sword down and lopping its head off. Charlotte strummed a soothing song to heal his aches as he lifted his shield and rammed the pillar off its base. The gateway fizzled and closed.

Ignatius had left the others, for he had detected the magic of a distant portal coming from the watchtower. Certainly enough, one had opened from within the small structure. A few acolytes slipped through and prepared to channel more power into the link, permanently connecting it. Ignatius had to work quickly. Although he could feel his fears build, he was undetected, and that helped keep them at bay. One of the acolytes was chanting the words to the spell while the two others supported him in stabilizing the rift. Ignatius knew he had to stop the main chanter before more came. As he completed that thought, two more came out, one after another. Ignatius swallowed his gathered saliva and began to chant a spell, swirling his arms summoning forth a hefty icicle. He aimed carefully and sent it forth through the air. The spike plunged into the neck of the chanting acolyte and he collapsed immediately. The others turned and saw Ignatius. They readied to counter, but the rift began to phase, so they barked amongst themselves for two to keep stabilizing as the two that came out left the tower and shot beams and blasts at Ignatius with wands. Ignatius hid behind a ruined wall, trying to steady his gasping breath. He was scared. They were closing in on him, but he had to remain steadfast. His mind raced as he opened his tome, reading all the spells he learned, each one that his mentors taught him. Which would help him the most in this situation? Then, he saw it.

Ignatius searched his satchel for the appropriate materials, fiddling and dropping them, slurring words and correcting his pronunciation. He spoke out as a blast of ice and then fire hit the wall he hid behind. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. The ancient words poured forth until his eyes buzzed and flickered, shooting open and shining with blue light. Jolts of electricity sparked and sizzled to the sphere of electricity that materialized between his palms. He came out from behind the wall to meet the acolytes face-to-face. Their surprised expressions caused them to stand still. They turned in reflex to run back to the tower as the ball lightning flew from Ignatius’ hands. It hovered straight to the tower, blasting the acolytes that tried to run in its path. Pieces of them scorched into ash as jolts from the lighting zapped continuously as the ball passed them, until they became lifeless on the cold ground. The chanting sorcerers within the tower noticed only too late, as arms and legs of more came through the portal. The sphere of lightning entered the doorframe of the tower, shocking and seizing those within, causing the rift to cease and close, tearing the limbs from those who could not make it all the way through. Ignatius looked on and clasped his hand to his chest as he witnessed the carnage of his spell. The final portal, albeit stray and thus requiring the focus of enchanters, was closed. Thereby the plans of De Mont were foiled, or so it seemed.

On discovery that the portals were so quickly dispatched, De Mont lost his temper. “Enough!” His staff raised as a bright light emitted from the top, intricately overlaid in jewels and focus crystals. As the party looked on, they could feel their forms begin to harden, turning into solid stone. All who looked towards the staff became slowly petrified, from each foot to every follicle of hair on their heads. Every member of the party became encased, all but Ignatius who wasn’t present. “For destroying the pillars, you will take their place!” The echo of De Mont’s booming voice reverberated in Ignatius’ mind. Those words insinuated something wicked and fearful, but Ignatius had to return to save his comrades. Before doing so, he casted an invocation of invisibility, to save himself from being seen.

As Ignatius returned, he gasped in horror. Those he knew had been turned into forms of cold stone. He could see tethers of magic swirling from them. They were being used as catalysts for new rifts. He had to do something. He walked towards the center focal point of the new pillars, right before De Mont himself. Knowing that he was invisible was the only thing that steadied his resolve. Little did he know, however, that his faith was poorly placed and merely entertained. “Do you think I cannot see you there, young mage?” Ignatius froze in place. He looked towards De Mont slowly, and in time he detected a crown of ethereal eyes around his head. “Your group is finished. Did you think you would defy me for long? I am more powerful than you could possibly fathom.” Ignatius looked downwards. He was afraid to look the powerful necromancer in the eyes. “But, you have promise of your own. Submit yourself to my rule and I will make you my pupil. You will have a catalog of spells, a wealth of knowledge, and endless resources. All I require is your immortal and eternal servitude.” That last sentence did not come from his lips but was sent into Ignatius’ mind through the power of telepathy. This De Mont was a powerful wizard, and Ignatius could feel the bountiful security of his promise infect his mind, tempting him.

“…What would you have me do?” Ignatius asked eventually. Although the others remained stone, he could detect their thoughts telepathically, their resonance sounded out in the corner reaches of his mind, begging him not to consider those poisonous words any longer.

“You will be my messenger from this world to my own. I will teach you telemancy to travel to worlds and planes you have only dreamed of.” Was all that truly possible? Ignatius thought of seeing distant lands and the treasures that beheld him. “You are young, but eventually I might even make you ruler of a world of your own. King of your own realm.” The thought was tantalizing, the promise of such power had never been offered to him in earnest before. But the distant whispers of the thoughts of his companions beckoned him back to reality.

“You entice me with your offer. I would accept such a gift.” De Mont eyed the young Halfling plainly, but as if he were an insignificant bug. “But not at the cost of everyone and everything I love!” Ignatius screamed out. “Not if such a world robbed me of my friends! My family!” At that last cry, Ignatius slammed his palms onto the ground. The reaction caused De Mont to extend an arm in reflex.

“No! You will not defy me!” Chanting the arcane tongue, a blast of pure, white, glittering light extended from the ground beneath Ignatius’ palms. It grew outward and bathed the entire party—and De Mont as well—in glistening light. His friends, previously of stone, had shifted back to flesh. De Mont’s protections and piercing sight had additionally been stripped from him. The formerly petrified adventurers had to regain their composure and find their bearings. De Mont, even with his power, possessed the wisdom to know when a battle was lost. He turned and motioned his staff in a circle before him, creating a portal of swirling gray and black. “You will leave this day with your lives, but I will return. When the constellations align once more and allow for it, an even greater army will meet you here in this world. This isn’t the only observatory I can use as an entryway. I suggest you prepare for that day. It will make crushing you all the more satisfying.” With those final words spoken, De Mont entered the portal back to whence he came.

Ignatius helped to guide his friends to their feet, as Conrad and Charlotte helped to heal and soothe the wounds they had received. In time, they descended the mountain with the warm sunrise to greet them, praising the good fortune that they remained without significant injury. “Well done, Iggy. With the promises of power that magician made to you, you practiced true restraint and stood for what’s right. You would make a good initiate for the Order,” Wilhelm confessed as he wrapped an arm around Ignatius’ shoulder.

“Aye, lad. You had bravery that the White Maiden herself would find worthy of her.” Conrad laid his gauntlet on Ignatius’s head again, ruffling his hair.

Charlotte ran ahead of him to profess. “And that speech was the stuff of legends! I might have been moved to tears, you know, if I wasn’t made of rock.” She looked towards Delilah, who in her silence maintained a rare content smile at Ignatius. “Oh yeah, and the patience of a mute Elf sneak.” Delilah looked towards Charlotte and quietly huffed a pout, but her smile returned in time.

“And don’t forget true might, even stronger than I!” Strom lifted Ignatius up from behind to sit on his shoulders. The group shared laughs and compliments, swapping stories of their separations and thoughts all the way back to town.

They met with the scouts from the military who offered the hefty bounty sum in the first place. “Your king thanks you for clearing the mountainside of the undead horde. We will reoccupy the tower and ensure the threat is gone for good.” Of course, the group knew that the threat might be gone from this place, but there were other places that the wicked necromancer threatened to return from. Today, they would rest, feast, and drink. Even after a long day, Ignatius could hardly sleep. He peered out a window from the inn towards the stars and thought of everything that had occurred on their adventures, and everything he had yet to learn.

Morning come, the group saddled their horses from the stables and set out for distant lands, following rumors of the presence of ancient ruins and observatories. Surely along the way, they would find worthy quests to help folk and keep their pockets lined and their bellies full. Such was the adventuring life, although Ignatius genuinely felt an adventure alongside his friends and family was the greatest treasure of all. The weather was sunny that day, but at their departure, they could feel their next journey only beginning as the heavens rumbled as if there was a distant storm brewing. This thunder, however, was more alike the clacking of tumbling dice.

It's a fun a story, but I do have some problems with it. The big one is I didn't know what was going on until the third scene. I knew they were in a ruin somewhere for some reason, and their was a line that alluded to the world not being in the best of times. Other than that, I was pretty much in the dark until the scene with Delilah. What the first two scenes do give me is an immediate sense of danger, which kept me going long enough to get to the plot. Other than that, they are a couple of other issues that stood out here and there.

There are couple of moments of exposition that feel like should have been discussed and known by the characters before even entering the ruin like the history of it and what it even is. It would have been nice for that information to be conveyed in a way that feels more natural.

It's unclear to me what Charlotte's powers do. She's a bard obviously, but all I know is she can play songs that make people stronger, which doesn't really tell me much.

The climax is exciting, but it leaves me wondering what De Mont is doing while the party destroys his undead army. It seems like he was kind of just standing there doing nothing as evil villains tend to do. I'm also not sure why he fled. You do a fair amount to signify that this guy is strong. Does he not have any spells he could use to wipe the floor with the party like Ignatius used to kill the acolytes?

I also think some of the characters could use more characterization or perhaps more context surrounding their actions rather than just calling out their names. There were a couple of moments where I had to stop and think who they were.

I'm also not too sure what the pov is. Is it omniscient?

Those are all the things that stood out to me. It's a fun, enjoyable story, but I think it could be stronger.

Thanks for reading and commenting, d. I can always count on you for honest feedback. Inevitably, there were several times in my writing that I thought to myself, "d isn't going to like this," but went ahead with it anyway. I remember from your comment on my story a while back that it was annoying to read a character say another character's name in order to establish who they are through exposition. That's part of why I wanted to establish their identities in the form of the chapter titles. I still suffered from this here regardless.

There were intentional choices made with some things you found insufficient, mostly for literary style, such as beginning a story with more action and less exposition. There was some given later, as you picked up on, but some details don't really add to the story. Some of the breaks even serve to skip things I felt dragged the pace down, like how they accepted their quest in the first place, how they got back together, or what they did to find one another. Apologies if you felt the exposition I did include was unnatural, I tried to make it sound as natural as possible, but perhaps it ended up forced to serve a desire for some archetypal flavor.

Charlotte is kind of similar to Ignatius in ways that both cast spells, but while he uses a spell book and his knowledge as a catalyst, she uses her instrument and songs. She even needs components in some cases, as I mentioned once in the story. As described, she played songs that made people stronger, that soothed them, and even weakened a monster by changing its shape against its will. I was thinking of putting another one in there, but there came a point where I just decided enough with it and to just continue the story.

Perhaps it would satisfy you to imagine De Mont kept his attention on maintaining the portals while they were active, and thus when they were destroyed he saw fit to act. I also attempted to have him seem like he considered them an insignificant distraction, much to his folly in underestimating them. And as for fleeing, well, he just left to fight another day before the party could retaliate, and did not see much purpose in staying when his protections were removed.

Could you talk a bit more about the issue you saw with characterization? I tried to make a strong effort to make their personalities, and thus their actions, clear from the writing.

I believe I defaulted to active past tense, but I tried to experiment with tossing in a few sentences in the omniscient.

Thanks once more for the thorough feedback. There are some small references in here that might speak more to the purpose of certain aspects, but more there for flavor and humorous entertainment.

I love me some good old D&D or Pathfinder. Heck, any tabletop RPG will do since I even play D20 Modern. I'll start with that because I found the very last part to be extremely heartwarming and endearing at the mention of dice. While I agree with many of d's criticisms, I'm not one to really pick them apart. My reasoning comes from how I viewed the story. Like it was mentioned, some of the characters felt less fleshed out compared to others. There were also some actions that felt questionable such as De Mont letting the party destroy the pillars while just standing there. I would say they were quite big flaws that detracted from the story. Unlike d however, I saw them as lapses in gameplay. From the start of this story with how you described the classes and races, I immediately imagined a group of people shouting at one another around a table and making the adventure seem more dramatic than it truly is. I know it wasn't your intention, Xen, but I ended up seeing the complaints I mentioned above as forgetfulness and mercy on the Dungeon Master's part. For that very reason, it made me ignore the flaws. In my head, what I saw was:

DM: Alright fine, I might have made De Mont too strong. He needs to concentrate on the conduits and controlling his armies, so he can't do anything and you guys have a chance to destroy the pillars. Deal?

or

Players: How the hell are any of us supposed to beat that Fortitude save? Of course we're going to turn to stone.

This mentality of mine is also why I forgave some of the inconsistencies in characterization. Honestly, sometimes it's just fun to play the quiet and stoic elf assassin badass.

All in all, I think the effectiveness of this story depends on how you view it. From my perspective, I'd say it was a fun afternoon of D&D next to the fire place with some hot coco while a snow storm raged outside.

Also, as you requested on my submission. A link to the new chapters are now in my signature.

You're welcome, it's a pleasure as always.



Lol. Yeah, you shouldn't avoid doing something just because someone else won't like it. Maybe ask yourself why they wouldn't like it and see if they have a point, but it's your story ultimately, not mine.



I forget about that, but yeah, I did notice that here. It just doesn't make sense to me to do it like that.



I don't mind stories that start in the middle of the action, but I think you could have done more to hint at the characters' goal.



I didn't have a problem with that. In fact, I think that's a great use of that tool.

Don't apologize, make it better. :)



The issue I had with that is I don't have much of an idea of the magnitude of the effects. As is, her contributions to the fights kind of feel hollow.



It just made him feel less threatening for me and kind of incompetent, which isn't a huge problem given the tone of the story.





This was the moment that tripped me up the most, especially Wilhelm. There isn't anything there to distinguish who he is, and I haven't spent enough time with him yet to remember that he's the dwarf.



I think you might be getting tense and pov mixed up there a bit. I thought it was omniscient, but I was confused I think mostly because there are stretches where you don't really go into what any of the characters are thinking and just describe what they're doing.

Ha, and even more appropriately, this is what you said before as well.



To be fair, I think you did have a point, and despite trying to make those adjustments here, I seemed to still let those previous issues through. Maybe I'll be more successful next time if that's what I decide on.



Thank you, I'll keep these things in mind.



To be fair, she indirectly is responsible for taking down the biggest bad that the party took down. I suppose with how quickly it happened might feel hollow. Unless you mean to what degree the songs help as a boost to their effect? In which case, I agree, it is unclear.



Ah, I see. Thank you for the clarification.



Ah, yes. In that case, I am committing to omniscient for the overall story, but my natural style is descriptive of senses and action, so that might have made my experimenting limited in comparison. Although, of course, Ignatius is the focus of this story and the vast majority of the descriptions of character thoughts are his. But there are places where he isn't present so it naturally isn't consistent for those instances. I'll think more about this for the future, I'd like to become more proficient with omniscient point-of-view. Thanks for commenting on this specifically.

Can't wait to dig into yours once I get to it. And you know, I still kick myself on occasion for skipping that one Valentines entry you made, whenever I inevitably remember it. After this contest, I'm gonna get to it alongside crazr's work. You can hold me to that.

This comment made me smile greatly, crazr. Thank you for writing it. That was a very nice and interesting way to view the story. I'm glad that I could entertain someone who also has a history with D&D and Pathfinder, of which this of course draws inspiration from. I mean, the title and ending are somewhat on-the-nose references to this. Naturally for me, it was the ideal combination of thinking of the themes of Past (Fantasy) and Chance/Fate. It might also somewhat be influenced by watching a few episodes of Goblin Slayer a while back when it came out, but of course the plot is very different.

In regards to the amount of characterization, I wish I could have given them equal spotlight, and as much as it is funny to try and blame that imbalance on some meta comparison to how much different D&D players put certain amounts of effort into the backgrounds of their characters, that would be untrue. I'm afraid that's just the inevitability of trying to establish some character growth and moral lessons into a short story. Some characters are more focal than others because of their significance to the story, like Ignatius. That being said, they are indeed archetypes of their own kind, somewhat cliché although on purpose, because that better reflects their meanings for who they are and what they represent. You don't even have to examine much closer than the beginning of their names to figure out my intent in that regard.

As much as I dislike the idea of giving references away, because placing and hiding them is kinda fun, you guys are my friends and I think it's even more fun to let you in to see a bit behind my creative choices and process. This kind of speaks to why De Mont didn't wipe the party despite perhaps having the ability to do so, because of what and whom he represents, which—again—becomes even more evident when you realize what "De Mont" stands for. That also leads to why it's important that he leave when his army is vanquished and why he will inevitably return in the future to challenge the party in another way, because that is his representative role and purpose.

I'll leave it at that for now. Thanks for your honest thoughts and talking about your perspective on what could hypothetically be going on behind the scene. I might just have to try and recreate that image of a snowy afternoon of D&D nearby a fireplace with hot cocoa with my group. But Pathfinder since that's what my group plays. And with no fireplace since we have none. And no snow since we don't have any of that either right now. So just Pathfinder and hot cocoa is what I'm saying.

Also, thank you for linking to them. They're in a new thread, I see. Can't wait to read them, and that one summer rewrite I apparently missed.

Lol, rip memory.



It's not like you're missing out on anything amazing.

The biggest problem I found was that too much was going on with too little 'relevant' exposition. We're immediately thrust into 2 POVs, each in the middle of action but with no context on why the parties are there or what the stakes are. To me, there should be something deeper for a character than simply 'I must survive fighting these monsters.'

Some more context is given in further POVs, which introduce more characters. In a short story format such as this, it is very easy to lose track of each character's motivations, and I think this was what happened with me for this one. The five or six named people sort of just blended together, as there was nothing really distinguishing them aside from physical descriptors.

Other than that, I liked the description you used for some of the action, and I especially liked the last two lines which tells me the story is a group of friends sitting around a table playing DnD. It's rare to see something from you, Xenon, and I hope you'll continue to write, even if you don't necessarily share your work.

Thank you for the words of encouragement, Yanker. It's very much appreciated.

You know, I actually even purposefully limited my description of the character's appearance, besides from identifiers such as race and build, and a few possessions, so that the reader could be allowed to imagine them as they please. I was hoping the diversity would help with that, but, I suppose that didn't help since others were similar in conflating the characters.

I can understand the criticism about an excessive amount of characters when attentiveness is limited, especially when thrust into the action without much context. We've had some discussions here in the past, like from leonard, about the differences between stories that thrust one into the action, like Game of Thrones, and those that lead with tons of exposition and world setting, like Lord of the Rings. My default style is to be more descriptive of current action, but I would like to experiment more with omniscience in the future. Thanks for commenting about this.

I look forward to reading your entry.