The Iconar Collective (OUTDATED)

[Channelknight Fadran]

On 11/2/2020 at 11:05 AM, HoidWasTaken said:

Let's hope he doesn't lose all motivation and restart (again).

I do not want to lose all motivation and restart. Even if I do lose all motivation, I'm going to force myself to keep going, because I am not willing to restart the 50,000 word-long draft that I have.

[LukeWasTaken he/him]

2 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

I do not want to lose all motivation and restart. Even if I do lose all motivation, I'm going to force myself to keep going, because I am not willing to restart the 50,000 word-long draft that I have.

Quote

Yes! Good Thoughts!

 

[revelryintheart she/her]

On 11/7/2020 at 9:24 PM, HoidWasTaken said:

I agree, although I think I liked his flannelknight fadran pfp better.

As the person who drew both the flannel pfp and the current pfp I find comments like these extremely funny

[Mat he/him]

8 minutes ago, revelryintheart said:

As the person who drew both the flannel pfp and the current pfp I find comments like these extremely funny

To add to this, I like this current one better than the flannelknight  

[Mage he/him]

@Channelknight Fadran, I just read chapter one, so I can't speak for your plotting or worldbuilding skills, but I do know that you are a master of the English language. As someone who appreciates good writing, but isn't quite as able to imitate it, I think that this is the best non-professional fiction I have ever read. Beautiful sentence structure, and excellent verb choice. Very well done.

[LukeWasTaken he/him]

25 minutes ago, Mage said:

@Channelknight Fadran, I just read chapter one, so I can't speak for your plotting or worldbuilding skills, but I do know that you are a master of the English language. As someone who appreciates good writing, but isn't quite as able to imitate it, I think that this is the best non-professional fiction I have ever read. Beautiful sentence structure, and excellent verb choice. Very well done.

You are in for a treat then.

Also don't miss your 100th post!

Edited November 10, 2020 by HoidWasTaken

[Frustration]

@Channelknight Fadran the last two chapters are not on the front page.

[Mage he/him]

On 7/10/2020 at 5:51 PM, Channelknight Fadran said:

Quarden and Garnell both snorted near simultaneously, the second scoffing, “genius. I’d sooner believe that Corrin was a Channelknight!”

Forshadowing?

[Bearer of all agonies he/him]

1 hour ago, Mage said:

Forshadowing?

Yep, That's what we are thinking right now.

[Channelknight Fadran]

You guys are spoiled.

5000th Post! Introducing a few new characters in the first chapter of the interlude "The Noble and Nobles." It's on the shorter side, and completely unedited (like most of the chapters posted here). I don't know anything about medicine, so don't critisize me too badly.

Spoiler

Chapter XVI - Physician’s Son

First Waterlight | Castle Ivinan

    “Where did you get this?” Tristan’s father asked the king of Ivinan.

    Tristan stood by his father’s side, mentally analyzing the scrape on the king’s arm. He tried to find anything serious about the wound, but he couldn’t find anything. No darkened veins from poison or inflammation; there wasn’t even that much blood.

    The king shrugged. “You get scrapes and cuts all the time on hunting trips. I’m assuming you can fix it up?”

    “Of course I can, but… do you really need my services for such a small scrape? A Healer would suffice.”

    “A Healer would work, yes, but I prefer your work, old friend.” The king looked to Tristan. “Or perhaps your son could practice your art? I understand that he’s been following in your footsteps.”

    “I, uh…” Tristan stuttered, swallowing, “I’m not very… good yet.”

    “You sell yourself short, son!” His father replied. “You’d give half the medics in the Enclave a run for their money. Besides, you’re never going to be the king’s physician if you never work with the king.”

    “If you’re afraid you’re going to hurt me and get executed, sonny, then don’t be. I only execute people who don’t hurt me, because that means they aren’t scrubbing the wound hard enough.”

    “You’re not supposed to scrub scrapes that hard,” Tristan replied, “it could inflame the wound or cause bleeding.”

    The king chuckled, then said to Tristan’s father, “you see, Regald, you’ve got yourself a good son there. You oughta teach me how to raise a kid properly someday.”

    “You’ve been raising children for seventeen years. Surely you’ve figured it out by now?”

    “Not in the slightest. You going to clean this old man’s scrape up or no?”

    “Ahh… yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Tristan started fumbling through his bag, pulling out a cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured the latter onto the cloth.

    “Not so much… that’ll do it.” His father said. “Go ahead.”

    Tristan started gently rubbing the king’s scrape. The king winced slightly, then chuckled. “You’d think after all the times your old man’s used alcohol on my wounds that I’d stop drinking by now.”

    “Or stop getting wounds,” his father said, “you could stop getting wounds.”

    “What’s the fun in a hunt if you aren’t contributing blood, sweat, and tears? There isn’t anything quite like dashing through a thicket after a stag and coming out without an eyeball.”

    “When has that ever happened?”

    “Never, yet.”

    Tristan finished washing the king’s scrape and bandaged it up. “There you go, sir.”

    The king worked his arm. “Feels good. I’ll be sure to get myself something more serious for you to work on next time.”

    “Sir…”

    “I’m joking! I’m joking. Tell me, sonny, have you gotten yourself any of those newfangled other significantes yet? What’re they called… girlfriends?”

    Tristan blushed slightly. “I’m… only fourteen, sir. Hardly old enough for a girlfriend.”

    “Fourteen almost fifteen, you mean. That’s old enough! Tell you what, kid; you promise to ask someone pretty to dance during that party I’m throwing for the Pentamillenial, and I’ll make sure not to gore my eye out on any thickets.”

    Tristan was quiet. “Umm… okay, then… sir.”

    “Right, then.” The king got to his feet, still working his arm. “I suppose that concludes tonight’s session. Regald, care to take a drink with me?”

    “Of course, my lord.” He turned to his son. “Uhh, Tristan, you can…”

    “Oh!” The king said on a start. He patted down his pockets, fishing out a couple gold crescents and flipping them at Tristan. “There you go; your first paycheck. Buy yourself something nice, how’s about?”

    “I, uh… thank you, sir.”

    “No problem, and don’t worry about paying taxes on that; I’m not supposed to forgive income taxes, but… I guess I’ll just say I paid them for you? Eh, what the paramounts won’t know won’t hurt them.” He gestured Tristan’s father outside. “See you, sonny; and be sure to get back inside before the rains start!” The two adults left.

    Tristan fingered the two coins. Despite the fact that his father was, in fact, the king’s personal physician, they weren’t a Noble family. Their family trade—medicine—had paid the bills and filled their stomachs, Tristan’s father didn’t give much of the money to his son. He had spent most of it on buying Tristan a formal education in medicine, so Tristan didn’t get his own pocket change to spend that often.

    So he’d spend it… but not right now.

    “Hey, Tristan.”

    He turned around, almost missing the source of the voice. He had to look down to see who had spoken. “Oh. Hi, Ridge.”

    Ridge looked nothing like his father, but that made sense, considering he had been adopted. He wore a simple shirt and sweater alongside some trousers reminiscent of commoner clothing, though they were made of relatively rare and fine material, and a red wool scarf that he had gotten from who-knows-where. He spun a simple golden disk-like object around his finger—a third childs’ crown to the throne of Ivinan.

    The Prince of Ivinan wasn’t that much older than ten or eleven, and he acted even younger. “Whatchoo got there?”

    “Hm? Oh, just these.” He held them up for Ridge to see.

    Ridge examined them for a second. “Where’d you get them?”

    “Your dad paid me with them.”

    “My dad?” Ridge frowned, then nodded. “Oh, right. The king. I just forget sometimes, y’know?”

    “He’s been your father for… what. Ten years?”

    Ridge shrugged. “I dunno. What’re you going to spend that on?”

    “These?” Tristan held up the crescents. “Nothing, yet.”

    “Saving up for something?”

    “In theory. I… don’t know what I would buy.”

    Ridge shrugged. “Guess you’ll find something one day. Want to play Arcala?”

    Tristan shrugged himself. “I guess so. Dibs on red.”

    “Always with the me going first. Well, then, I’ll go grab my set. Be right back.” Ridge ran off.

    Tristan considered leaving—as nice as Ridge was, playing a game with a ten-year-old wasn’t exactly his idea of a cup of tea. It turned out he didn’t have much a choice, because before he could come to a decision, Ridge was back with his Arcala set.

    “Full game? Half game? Short?” Ridge asked.

    “Let’s go… half game.” Tristan decided, playing the middle ground between being polite and trying to get out as soon as possible.

    Ridge sighed. “I wanted to have a Channelknight. Eh… whatever. At least we have Earthquake Strikes.” He placed down his first piece—a spearman, near the front.

    Tristan placed down his own piece, followed by Ridge. They alternated placing pieces until they had each placed all of theirs; then Ridge had the first move. Ridge moved one of his spearmen into a Compound with another, holding one of Tristan’s spears at bay. Tristan opted to Compound a swordsman with a spear, hopefully scaring the kid away from the left of the board.

    Ridge moved one of his Compounded spearmen forwards, maintaining the Compound and attacking. He flipped Tristan’s spearman over, then handed it to Tristan. “First casualty.”

    Tristan moved a single swordsman to compound with a spearman and attack Ridge, then flipped over both spearmen.

    “Hey, you can’t do that. Your pieces only have five attack, and the spearmen have six defense.”

    Tristan gestured to an archer piece. “He’s in range. That’s seven attack on six defense. Both down.”

    “Demons!” Ridge swore. “Should’ve seen that.”

    The game continued, mostly consisting of Ridge’s aggressive attacks versus Tristan’s slower strategic defenses. The two were about even for most of the game, and eventually the back-and-forth piece-picking settled into a standoff: either side building a massive Compound led by the Captain piece, which held the unique ability to move an entire Compound in one move.

    Tristan, despite the fact that he had never wanted to play in the first place, felt the tension grow. He felt his hand palms go sweaty as Ridge moved his mage towards his Stockpile; no doubt trying to unlock the Earthquake Strike ability and break up Tristan’s Compound.

    In that case, there was really only one option.

    Tristan moved his Compound across the board, pushing it perfectly adjacent to Ridge’s battalion. Tristan’s was smaller—Ridge had taken a lot of his spears—but attacking did have quite the advantage. Not only was the attack unexpected, but he removed a good half of Ridge’s forces before Ridge got to retaliate. Still; Tristan winced as Ridge took out about as many soldiers that he himself had removed.

    When Ridge had finished tallying his attack versus Tristan’s defense, he sat back, having defeated more of Tristan’s forces than he had lost. “So are you going to retreat?”

    Tristan frowned, thinking. He didn’t want to lose any more of his Compound than he had already lost, but pulling back would only result in Ridge Earthquake Striking him, and leaving each of his pieces vulnerable anyways.

    Tristan shook his head, and began taking more of Ridge’s pieces; a pitiful few.

    Ridge eyed the attack with concern. “Oookay. Um…” He finished off Tristan’s Compound, removing Tristan’s Captain piece from the board. After that, Ridge took his own turn: pulling his mage away from his own Stockpile to go after Tristan’s, hoping to capture the winning piece with his fastest unit.

    Tristan ran his eyes over the board. There was no way he could win this; but maybe he could tie? He checked all his pieces, eventually settling to move his last swordsman a couple steps away from Ridge’s Compound, which consisted of a captain and two spears.

    Ridge moved his Compound towards Tristan’s swordsman, as the Compound’s combined strength was more than enough to defeat the lone swordsman. Tristan pulled his swordsman back; out of the Compound’s range. Ridge looked over the board, then shrugged and moved his mage again.

    With a full round between his swordsman and an encounter with the Compound, Tristan moved his his mage by his stockpile; now he was capable of using Earthquake Strikes.

    Ridge frowned. “Oh… oh.”

    Tristan sat back, stretching. “Your move.”

    Ridge scratched his head, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Tristan was more than capable of executing an Earthquake Strike if Ridge moved his Compound to attack the swordsman, which would leave each individual piece vulnerable to the powerful unit. The mage was far from capable of defeating the swordsman, and there wasn’t any point in circling it all the way around Tristan’s swordsman, as it couldn’t take the Stockpile while Tristan’s mage sat on it. Tristan, however, couldn’t take Ridge’s Stockpile without leaving his own undefended; they were at a stalemate.

    Ridge threw in the towel. “A tie, then?”

    Tristan nodded. “Yes, your highness.”

    “Oh geez, don’t call me that.” Ridge stood up. “Want to go another round?”

    Tristan shook his head. “No. I should probably get some sleep; and you should too.”

    Ridge snorted. “Sleep. Who needs that?”

    “You and me. People.”

    “You go ahead. I haven’t committed enough crimes today.”

    “...How many have you committed?”

    “Zero, so I’ve matched my record. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some shenanigans to get up to.” Ridge ran off to who-knows-where.

    Tristan stood up, clearing and storing the board. He stretched his arms, then made his way back to his bedroom, turning his crescents over in his pocket. When he got back to his room, he collapsed on his bed.

    The… prince of Ivinan was his friend? The king of Ivinan was his employer? These thoughts were the kind that crossed his mind now and again—a strange realization of the sheer randomness in his life. Had his father not been so successful a physician, it would be likely that he never would’ve been here.

    He lay awake for a little while, pondering on these thoughts until they put him to sleep.

---

    Ridge sifted through the king’s papers, scanning name after name. There were hundreds of sheets to read; and those were just the A names.

    “Come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing aside a sheet and reading the next, “come on, where are you?”

 

 

[Mat he/him]

51 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

You guys are spoiled.

5000th Post! Introducing a few new characters in the first chapter of the interlude "The Noble and Nobles." It's on the shorter side, and completely unedited (like most of the chapters posted here). I don't know anything about medicine, so don't critisize me too badly.

  Reveal hidden contents

Chapter XVI - Physician’s Son

First Waterlight | Castle Ivinan

    “Where did you get this?” Tristan’s father asked the king of Ivinan.

    Tristan stood by his father’s side, mentally analyzing the scrape on the king’s arm. He tried to find anything serious about the wound, but he couldn’t find anything. No darkened veins from poison or inflammation; there wasn’t even that much blood.

    The king shrugged. “You get scrapes and cuts all the time on hunting trips. I’m assuming you can fix it up?”

    “Of course I can, but… do you really need my services for such a small scrape? A Healer would suffice.”

    “A Healer would work, yes, but I prefer your work, old friend.” The king looked to Tristan. “Or perhaps your son could practice your art? I understand that he’s been following in your footsteps.”

    “I, uh…” Tristan stuttered, swallowing, “I’m not very… good yet.”

    “You sell yourself short, son!” His father replied. “You’d give half the medics in the Enclave a run for their money. Besides, you’re never going to be the king’s physician if you never work with the king.”

    “If you’re afraid you’re going to hurt me and get executed, sonny, then don’t be. I only execute people who don’t hurt me, because that means they aren’t scrubbing the wound hard enough.”

    “You’re not supposed to scrub scrapes that hard,” Tristan replied, “it could inflame the wound or cause bleeding.”

    The king chuckled, then said to Tristan’s father, “you see, Regald, you’ve got yourself a good son there. You oughta teach me how to raise a kid properly someday.”

    “You’ve been raising children for seventeen years. Surely you’ve figured it out by now?”

    “Not in the slightest. You going to clean this old man’s scrape up or no?”

    “Ahh… yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Tristan started fumbling through his bag, pulling out a cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured the latter onto the cloth.

    “Not so much… that’ll do it.” His father said. “Go ahead.”

    Tristan started gently rubbing the king’s scrape. The king winced slightly, then chuckled. “You’d think after all the times your old man’s used alcohol on my wounds that I’d stop drinking by now.”

    “Or stop getting wounds,” his father said, “you could stop getting wounds.”

    “What’s the fun in a hunt if you aren’t contributing blood, sweat, and tears? There isn’t anything quite like dashing through a thicket after a stag and coming out without an eyeball.”

    “When has that ever happened?”

    “Never, yet.”

    Tristan finished washing the king’s scrape and bandaged it up. “There you go, sir.”

    The king worked his arm. “Feels good. I’ll be sure to get myself something more serious for you to work on next time.”

    “Sir…”

    “I’m joking! I’m joking. Tell me, sonny, have you gotten yourself any of those newfangled other significantes yet? What’re they called… girlfriends?”

    Tristan blushed slightly. “I’m… only fourteen, sir. Hardly old enough for a girlfriend.”

    “Fourteen almost fifteen, you mean. That’s old enough! Tell you what, kid; you promise to ask someone pretty to dance during that party I’m throwing for the Pentamillenial, and I’ll make sure not to gore my eye out on any thickets.”

    Tristan was quiet. “Umm… okay, then… sir.”

    “Right, then.” The king got to his feet, still working his arm. “I suppose that concludes tonight’s session. Regald, care to take a drink with me?”

    “Of course, my lord.” He turned to his son. “Uhh, Tristan, you can…”

    “Oh!” The king said on a start. He patted down his pockets, fishing out a couple gold crescents and flipping them at Tristan. “There you go; your first paycheck. Buy yourself something nice, how’s about?”

    “I, uh… thank you, sir.”

    “No problem, and don’t worry about paying taxes on that; I’m not supposed to forgive income taxes, but… I guess I’ll just say I paid them for you? Eh, what the paramounts won’t know won’t hurt them.” He gestured Tristan’s father outside. “See you, sonny; and be sure to get back inside before the rains start!” The two adults left.

    Tristan fingered the two coins. Despite the fact that his father was, in fact, the king’s personal physician, they weren’t a Noble family. Their family trade—medicine—had paid the bills and filled their stomachs, Tristan’s father didn’t give much of the money to his son. He had spent most of it on buying Tristan a formal education in medicine, so Tristan didn’t get his own pocket change to spend that often.

    So he’d spend it… but not right now.

    “Hey, Tristan.”

    He turned around, almost missing the source of the voice. He had to look down to see who had spoken. “Oh. Hi, Ridge.”

    Ridge looked nothing like his father, but that made sense, considering he had been adopted. He wore a simple shirt and sweater alongside some trousers reminiscent of commoner clothing, though they were made of relatively rare and fine material, and a red wool scarf that he had gotten from who-knows-where. He spun a simple golden disk-like object around his finger—a third childs’ crown to the throne of Ivinan.

    The Prince of Ivinan wasn’t that much older than ten or eleven, and he acted even younger. “Whatchoo got there?”

    “Hm? Oh, just these.” He held them up for Ridge to see.

    Ridge examined them for a second. “Where’d you get them?”

    “Your dad paid me with them.”

    “My dad?” Ridge frowned, then nodded. “Oh, right. The king. I just forget sometimes, y’know?”

    “He’s been your father for… what. Ten years?”

    Ridge shrugged. “I dunno. What’re you going to spend that on?”

    “These?” Tristan held up the crescents. “Nothing, yet.”

    “Saving up for something?”

    “In theory. I… don’t know what I would buy.”

    Ridge shrugged. “Guess you’ll find something one day. Want to play Arcala?”

    Tristan shrugged himself. “I guess so. Dibs on red.”

    “Always with the me going first. Well, then, I’ll go grab my set. Be right back.” Ridge ran off.

    Tristan considered leaving—as nice as Ridge was, playing a game with a ten-year-old wasn’t exactly his idea of a cup of tea. It turned out he didn’t have much a choice, because before he could come to a decision, Ridge was back with his Arcala set.

    “Full game? Half game? Short?” Ridge asked.

    “Let’s go… half game.” Tristan decided, playing the middle ground between being polite and trying to get out as soon as possible.

    Ridge sighed. “I wanted to have a Channelknight. Eh… whatever. At least we have Earthquake Strikes.” He placed down his first piece—a spearman, near the front.

    Tristan placed down his own piece, followed by Ridge. They alternated placing pieces until they had each placed all of theirs; then Ridge had the first move. Ridge moved one of his spearmen into a Compound with another, holding one of Tristan’s spears at bay. Tristan opted to Compound a swordsman with a spear, hopefully scaring the kid away from the left of the board.

    Ridge moved one of his Compounded spearmen forwards, maintaining the Compound and attacking. He flipped Tristan’s spearman over, then handed it to Tristan. “First casualty.”

    Tristan moved a single swordsman to compound with a spearman and attack Ridge, then flipped over both spearmen.

    “Hey, you can’t do that. Your pieces only have five attack, and the spearmen have six defense.”

    Tristan gestured to an archer piece. “He’s in range. That’s seven attack on six defense. Both down.”

    “Demons!” Ridge swore. “Should’ve seen that.”

    The game continued, mostly consisting of Ridge’s aggressive attacks versus Tristan’s slower strategic defenses. The two were about even for most of the game, and eventually the back-and-forth piece-picking settled into a standoff: either side building a massive Compound led by the Captain piece, which held the unique ability to move an entire Compound in one move.

    Tristan, despite the fact that he had never wanted to play in the first place, felt the tension grow. He felt his hand palms go sweaty as Ridge moved his mage towards his Stockpile; no doubt trying to unlock the Earthquake Strike ability and break up Tristan’s Compound.

    In that case, there was really only one option.

    Tristan moved his Compound across the board, pushing it perfectly adjacent to Ridge’s battalion. Tristan’s was smaller—Ridge had taken a lot of his spears—but attacking did have quite the advantage. Not only was the attack unexpected, but he removed a good half of Ridge’s forces before Ridge got to retaliate. Still; Tristan winced as Ridge took out about as many soldiers that he himself had removed.

    When Ridge had finished tallying his attack versus Tristan’s defense, he sat back, having defeated more of Tristan’s forces than he had lost. “So are you going to retreat?”

    Tristan frowned, thinking. He didn’t want to lose any more of his Compound than he had already lost, but pulling back would only result in Ridge Earthquake Striking him, and leaving each of his pieces vulnerable anyways.

    Tristan shook his head, and began taking more of Ridge’s pieces; a pitiful few.

    Ridge eyed the attack with concern. “Oookay. Um…” He finished off Tristan’s Compound, removing Tristan’s Captain piece from the board. After that, Ridge took his own turn: pulling his mage away from his own Stockpile to go after Tristan’s, hoping to capture the winning piece with his fastest unit.

    Tristan ran his eyes over the board. There was no way he could win this; but maybe he could tie? He checked all his pieces, eventually settling to move his last swordsman a couple steps away from Ridge’s Compound, which consisted of a captain and two spears.

    Ridge moved his Compound towards Tristan’s swordsman, as the Compound’s combined strength was more than enough to defeat the lone swordsman. Tristan pulled his swordsman back; out of the Compound’s range. Ridge looked over the board, then shrugged and moved his mage again.

    With a full round between his swordsman and an encounter with the Compound, Tristan moved his his mage by his stockpile; now he was capable of using Earthquake Strikes.

    Ridge frowned. “Oh… oh.”

    Tristan sat back, stretching. “Your move.”

    Ridge scratched his head, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Tristan was more than capable of executing an Earthquake Strike if Ridge moved his Compound to attack the swordsman, which would leave each individual piece vulnerable to the powerful unit. The mage was far from capable of defeating the swordsman, and there wasn’t any point in circling it all the way around Tristan’s swordsman, as it couldn’t take the Stockpile while Tristan’s mage sat on it. Tristan, however, couldn’t take Ridge’s Stockpile without leaving his own undefended; they were at a stalemate.

    Ridge threw in the towel. “A tie, then?”

    Tristan nodded. “Yes, your highness.”

    “Oh geez, don’t call me that.” Ridge stood up. “Want to go another round?”

    Tristan shook his head. “No. I should probably get some sleep; and you should too.”

    Ridge snorted. “Sleep. Who needs that?”

    “You and me. People.”

    “You go ahead. I haven’t committed enough crimes today.”

    “...How many have you committed?”

    “Zero, so I’ve matched my record. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some shenanigans to get up to.” Ridge ran off to who-knows-where.

    Tristan stood up, clearing and storing the board. He stretched his arms, then made his way back to his bedroom, turning his crescents over in his pocket. When he got back to his room, he collapsed on his bed.

    The… prince of Ivinan was his friend? The king of Ivinan was his employer? These thoughts were the kind that crossed his mind now and again—a strange realization of the sheer randomness in his life. Had his father not been so successful a physician, it would be likely that he never would’ve been here.

    He lay awake for a little while, pondering on these thoughts until they put him to sleep.

---

    Ridge sifted through the king’s papers, scanning name after name. There were hundreds of sheets to read; and those were just the A names.

    “Come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing aside a sheet and reading the next, “come on, where are you?”

 

 

What's that two line thing at the end?

Hmm, nice. Did you make the full ruleset of that game? How developed is it? Could you 3-d print a board and doodle some cards to send to the beta squad?

[Channelknight Fadran]

39 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

What's that two line thing at the end?

Hmm, nice. Did you make the full ruleset of that game? How developed is it? Could you 3-d print a board and doodle some cards to send to the beta squad?

I'll send some pics later. I developed some basic rules, but they aren't extraordinary and could use a lot of work.

[Condensation she/her]

 I'm so happy! Alright, I need to reread.

[Tacitus]

13 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

 “Come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing aside a sheet and reading the next, “come on, where are you?”

Relatable.

[Frustration]

13 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

 

  Hide contents

Ridge sifted through the king’s papers, scanning name after name. There were hundreds of sheets to read; and those were just the A names.

    “Come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing aside a sheet and reading the next, “come on, where are you?”

 

 

Aurora

[Bearer of all agonies he/him]

14 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

You guys are spoiled.

5000th Post! Introducing a few new characters in the first chapter of the interlude "The Noble and Nobles." It's on the shorter side, and completely unedited (like most of the chapters posted here). I don't know anything about medicine, so don't critisize me too badly.

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Chapter XVI - Physician’s Son

First Waterlight | Castle Ivinan

    “Where did you get this?” Tristan’s father asked the king of Ivinan.

    Tristan stood by his father’s side, mentally analyzing the scrape on the king’s arm. He tried to find anything serious about the wound, but he couldn’t find anything. No darkened veins from poison or inflammation; there wasn’t even that much blood.

    The king shrugged. “You get scrapes and cuts all the time on hunting trips. I’m assuming you can fix it up?”

    “Of course I can, but… do you really need my services for such a small scrape? A Healer would suffice.”

    “A Healer would work, yes, but I prefer your work, old friend.” The king looked to Tristan. “Or perhaps your son could practice your art? I understand that he’s been following in your footsteps.”

    “I, uh…” Tristan stuttered, swallowing, “I’m not very… good yet.”

    “You sell yourself short, son!” His father replied. “You’d give half the medics in the Enclave a run for their money. Besides, you’re never going to be the king’s physician if you never work with the king.”

    “If you’re afraid you’re going to hurt me and get executed, sonny, then don’t be. I only execute people who don’t hurt me, because that means they aren’t scrubbing the wound hard enough.”

    “You’re not supposed to scrub scrapes that hard,” Tristan replied, “it could inflame the wound or cause bleeding.”

    The king chuckled, then said to Tristan’s father, “you see, Regald, you’ve got yourself a good son there. You oughta teach me how to raise a kid properly someday.”

    “You’ve been raising children for seventeen years. Surely you’ve figured it out by now?”

    “Not in the slightest. You going to clean this old man’s scrape up or no?”

    “Ahh… yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Tristan started fumbling through his bag, pulling out a cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured the latter onto the cloth.

    “Not so much… that’ll do it.” His father said. “Go ahead.”

    Tristan started gently rubbing the king’s scrape. The king winced slightly, then chuckled. “You’d think after all the times your old man’s used alcohol on my wounds that I’d stop drinking by now.”

    “Or stop getting wounds,” his father said, “you could stop getting wounds.”

    “What’s the fun in a hunt if you aren’t contributing blood, sweat, and tears? There isn’t anything quite like dashing through a thicket after a stag and coming out without an eyeball.”

    “When has that ever happened?”

    “Never, yet.”

    Tristan finished washing the king’s scrape and bandaged it up. “There you go, sir.”

    The king worked his arm. “Feels good. I’ll be sure to get myself something more serious for you to work on next time.”

    “Sir…”

    “I’m joking! I’m joking. Tell me, sonny, have you gotten yourself any of those newfangled other significantes yet? What’re they called… girlfriends?”

    Tristan blushed slightly. “I’m… only fourteen, sir. Hardly old enough for a girlfriend.”

    “Fourteen almost fifteen, you mean. That’s old enough! Tell you what, kid; you promise to ask someone pretty to dance during that party I’m throwing for the Pentamillenial, and I’ll make sure not to gore my eye out on any thickets.”

    Tristan was quiet. “Umm… okay, then… sir.”

    “Right, then.” The king got to his feet, still working his arm. “I suppose that concludes tonight’s session. Regald, care to take a drink with me?”

    “Of course, my lord.” He turned to his son. “Uhh, Tristan, you can…”

    “Oh!” The king said on a start. He patted down his pockets, fishing out a couple gold crescents and flipping them at Tristan. “There you go; your first paycheck. Buy yourself something nice, how’s about?”

    “I, uh… thank you, sir.”

    “No problem, and don’t worry about paying taxes on that; I’m not supposed to forgive income taxes, but… I guess I’ll just say I paid them for you? Eh, what the paramounts won’t know won’t hurt them.” He gestured Tristan’s father outside. “See you, sonny; and be sure to get back inside before the rains start!” The two adults left.

    Tristan fingered the two coins. Despite the fact that his father was, in fact, the king’s personal physician, they weren’t a Noble family. Their family trade—medicine—had paid the bills and filled their stomachs, Tristan’s father didn’t give much of the money to his son. He had spent most of it on buying Tristan a formal education in medicine, so Tristan didn’t get his own pocket change to spend that often.

    So he’d spend it… but not right now.

    “Hey, Tristan.”

    He turned around, almost missing the source of the voice. He had to look down to see who had spoken. “Oh. Hi, Ridge.”

    Ridge looked nothing like his father, but that made sense, considering he had been adopted. He wore a simple shirt and sweater alongside some trousers reminiscent of commoner clothing, though they were made of relatively rare and fine material, and a red wool scarf that he had gotten from who-knows-where. He spun a simple golden disk-like object around his finger—a third childs’ crown to the throne of Ivinan.

    The Prince of Ivinan wasn’t that much older than ten or eleven, and he acted even younger. “Whatchoo got there?”

    “Hm? Oh, just these.” He held them up for Ridge to see.

    Ridge examined them for a second. “Where’d you get them?”

    “Your dad paid me with them.”

    “My dad?” Ridge frowned, then nodded. “Oh, right. The king. I just forget sometimes, y’know?”

    “He’s been your father for… what. Ten years?”

    Ridge shrugged. “I dunno. What’re you going to spend that on?”

    “These?” Tristan held up the crescents. “Nothing, yet.”

    “Saving up for something?”

    “In theory. I… don’t know what I would buy.”

    Ridge shrugged. “Guess you’ll find something one day. Want to play Arcala?”

    Tristan shrugged himself. “I guess so. Dibs on red.”

    “Always with the me going first. Well, then, I’ll go grab my set. Be right back.” Ridge ran off.

    Tristan considered leaving—as nice as Ridge was, playing a game with a ten-year-old wasn’t exactly his idea of a cup of tea. It turned out he didn’t have much a choice, because before he could come to a decision, Ridge was back with his Arcala set.

    “Full game? Half game? Short?” Ridge asked.

    “Let’s go… half game.” Tristan decided, playing the middle ground between being polite and trying to get out as soon as possible.

    Ridge sighed. “I wanted to have a Channelknight. Eh… whatever. At least we have Earthquake Strikes.” He placed down his first piece—a spearman, near the front.

    Tristan placed down his own piece, followed by Ridge. They alternated placing pieces until they had each placed all of theirs; then Ridge had the first move. Ridge moved one of his spearmen into a Compound with another, holding one of Tristan’s spears at bay. Tristan opted to Compound a swordsman with a spear, hopefully scaring the kid away from the left of the board.

    Ridge moved one of his Compounded spearmen forwards, maintaining the Compound and attacking. He flipped Tristan’s spearman over, then handed it to Tristan. “First casualty.”

    Tristan moved a single swordsman to compound with a spearman and attack Ridge, then flipped over both spearmen.

    “Hey, you can’t do that. Your pieces only have five attack, and the spearmen have six defense.”

    Tristan gestured to an archer piece. “He’s in range. That’s seven attack on six defense. Both down.”

    “Demons!” Ridge swore. “Should’ve seen that.”

    The game continued, mostly consisting of Ridge’s aggressive attacks versus Tristan’s slower strategic defenses. The two were about even for most of the game, and eventually the back-and-forth piece-picking settled into a standoff: either side building a massive Compound led by the Captain piece, which held the unique ability to move an entire Compound in one move.

    Tristan, despite the fact that he had never wanted to play in the first place, felt the tension grow. He felt his hand palms go sweaty as Ridge moved his mage towards his Stockpile; no doubt trying to unlock the Earthquake Strike ability and break up Tristan’s Compound.

    In that case, there was really only one option.

    Tristan moved his Compound across the board, pushing it perfectly adjacent to Ridge’s battalion. Tristan’s was smaller—Ridge had taken a lot of his spears—but attacking did have quite the advantage. Not only was the attack unexpected, but he removed a good half of Ridge’s forces before Ridge got to retaliate. Still; Tristan winced as Ridge took out about as many soldiers that he himself had removed.

    When Ridge had finished tallying his attack versus Tristan’s defense, he sat back, having defeated more of Tristan’s forces than he had lost. “So are you going to retreat?”

    Tristan frowned, thinking. He didn’t want to lose any more of his Compound than he had already lost, but pulling back would only result in Ridge Earthquake Striking him, and leaving each of his pieces vulnerable anyways.

    Tristan shook his head, and began taking more of Ridge’s pieces; a pitiful few.

    Ridge eyed the attack with concern. “Oookay. Um…” He finished off Tristan’s Compound, removing Tristan’s Captain piece from the board. After that, Ridge took his own turn: pulling his mage away from his own Stockpile to go after Tristan’s, hoping to capture the winning piece with his fastest unit.

    Tristan ran his eyes over the board. There was no way he could win this; but maybe he could tie? He checked all his pieces, eventually settling to move his last swordsman a couple steps away from Ridge’s Compound, which consisted of a captain and two spears.

    Ridge moved his Compound towards Tristan’s swordsman, as the Compound’s combined strength was more than enough to defeat the lone swordsman. Tristan pulled his swordsman back; out of the Compound’s range. Ridge looked over the board, then shrugged and moved his mage again.

    With a full round between his swordsman and an encounter with the Compound, Tristan moved his his mage by his stockpile; now he was capable of using Earthquake Strikes.

    Ridge frowned. “Oh… oh.”

    Tristan sat back, stretching. “Your move.”

    Ridge scratched his head, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Tristan was more than capable of executing an Earthquake Strike if Ridge moved his Compound to attack the swordsman, which would leave each individual piece vulnerable to the powerful unit. The mage was far from capable of defeating the swordsman, and there wasn’t any point in circling it all the way around Tristan’s swordsman, as it couldn’t take the Stockpile while Tristan’s mage sat on it. Tristan, however, couldn’t take Ridge’s Stockpile without leaving his own undefended; they were at a stalemate.

    Ridge threw in the towel. “A tie, then?”

    Tristan nodded. “Yes, your highness.”

    “Oh geez, don’t call me that.” Ridge stood up. “Want to go another round?”

    Tristan shook his head. “No. I should probably get some sleep; and you should too.”

    Ridge snorted. “Sleep. Who needs that?”

    “You and me. People.”

    “You go ahead. I haven’t committed enough crimes today.”

    “...How many have you committed?”

    “Zero, so I’ve matched my record. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some shenanigans to get up to.” Ridge ran off to who-knows-where.

    Tristan stood up, clearing and storing the board. He stretched his arms, then made his way back to his bedroom, turning his crescents over in his pocket. When he got back to his room, he collapsed on his bed.

    The… prince of Ivinan was his friend? The king of Ivinan was his employer? These thoughts were the kind that crossed his mind now and again—a strange realization of the sheer randomness in his life. Had his father not been so successful a physician, it would be likely that he never would’ve been here.

    He lay awake for a little while, pondering on these thoughts until they put him to sleep.

---

    Ridge sifted through the king’s papers, scanning name after name. There were hundreds of sheets to read; and those were just the A names.

    “Come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing aside a sheet and reading the next, “come on, where are you?”

 

 

Icona to the seventh Icona! That was amazing! I love how you did the interlude, it really helps the story along. That game looks amazing!!! Send us some pics/ rules when you can. Congrats Fadran! 5,OOO! Woohoo! 

12 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

I'll send some pics later. I developed some basic rules, but they aren't extraordinary and could use a lot of work.

It looks really fun. 

[LukeWasTaken he/him]

8 hours ago, Bearer of all agonies said:

Icona to the seventh Icona!

@Channelknight Fadran You could base some kind of insult off of this, I know you were looking at swears at some point.

[Condensation she/her]

My favorite character isn't on there. It's all of them.

[Experience he/him]

I think you got the medicine part fine, cause it's just alcohol on the wound.

On 11/17/2020 at 7:04 PM, Channelknight Fadran said:

I'll send some pics later. I developed some basic rules, but they aren't extraordinary and could use a lot of work.

Is it played on a board with squares like chess?

[Channelknight Fadran]

13 hours ago, HoidWasTaken said:

@Channelknight Fadran You could base some kind of insult off of this, I know you were looking at swears at some point.

I certainly could.

9 hours ago, Condensation said:

My favorite character isn't on there. It's all of them.

Hecking heck, Connie.

And your favorite character isn't on there either, Hoid. Who is your favorite character?

17 minutes ago, Experience said:

I think you got the medicine part fine, cause it's just alcohol on the wound.

Is it played on a board with squares like chess?

Kinda. The pieces go on the crossing lines between spaces, but you need a lot more spaces than 8*8 to play the game (a lot more spaces).

[Experience he/him]

18 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

Kinda. The pieces go on the crossing lines between spaces, but you need a lot more spaces than 8*8 to play the game (a lot more spaces).

Are we going to see any more of this game in the book?

[Channelknight Fadran]

Just now, Experience said:

Are we going to see any more of this game in the book?

Probably.

[Condensation she/her]

2 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

I certainly could.

Hecking heck, Connie.

And your favorite character isn't on there either, Hoid. Who is your favorite character?

Kinda. The pieces go on the crossing lines between spaces, but you need a lot more spaces than 8*8 to play the game (a lot more spaces).

 What?

[LukeWasTaken he/him]

5 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

And your favorite character isn't on there either, Hoid. Who is your favorite character?

Stock Character #2

[Condensation she/her]

11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

I certainly could.

Hecking heck, Connie.

And your favorite character isn't on there either, Hoid. Who is your favorite character?

Kinda. The pieces go on the crossing lines between spaces, but you need a lot more spaces than 8*8 to play the game (a lot more spaces).

Hey, you didn't add my favorite character yet!