L is for Leiwell

Dyvian, my brothers, my mothers, and I were all born for a roleplaying game. We grew very close to our scribbler’s heart and other people’s hearts, so close we were revised and relocated to The Keep.

We were reborn and revised once more when our scribbler lost faith in Stealing Myself From Shadows. She tried to revise that story with us, ending up with two novels in progress; The Hand and Eye of the Tower as well as Stealing Myself From Shadows. We not only became part of a series of novels in progress, but crept into many a story posted at this blog and at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com.

One persistent theme has always been true for me from my first incarnation to now. I’ve always been about self-sacrifice. Perhaps I’ve become one with the Hanged Man in Tarot decks for the scribbler. I’m always sacrificing myself for my family, my little brothers, and my master.

Much has changed, making my family and myself no longer linked by blood, but magic and myth in the Shadow Forest. We’ve still formed a family with a strong bond, living together, trying to create a tangible existence together.

Another persistent theme is that my love for my family conflicts with my love for my master. I’m divided in my loyalties, more divided than ever. The scribbler has made Dyvian far more complex than his previous incarnations. I’m not sure if whatever I am isn’t as bad or worse than what my brothers believe my master to be. I’m not sure of many things, including what our scribbler is up to. I have a sinking feeling we will find out. It may be hard to hold onto happiness when we do, but I’m going to try. For the sake of everyone precious to me, I will hold on.

K is for Kevin

You might say I came with the bar in this fantasy setting, this fantasy keep. The tavern has become quite the trope in roleplaying games. The story I’m part of, Trouble at Caerac Keep was inspired by a roleplaying game. I was the voice of the people at The Tipsy Hedgehog, someone who could give Rhodry and his friends, well, allies a little help and advice. It was possible I might have to be rescued at some point.

Thanks to Blogging From AZ and P.T. Wyant’s Wednesday Words, I fleshed out, becoming so much more than this. At first I was someone who wasn’t creeped out by Rhodry being Serpent-Born. If anything, I found him quite beautiful. I started to take off in these blog posts, becoming much more than someone working at a tavern. I was not only Maggie’s assistant and adopted son (Maggie is a former adventurer and the owner of The Tipsy Hedgehog), I had an entire mysterious past of my own. A past I hope our scribbler will explore, even if she doesn’t get to it in Trouble at Caerac Keep.

I really hope she does get to it.

J is for Jupitre

Don’t you recognize me, mortal? Don’t you quiver at the sound of my name? Once you wouldn’t have dared to give me that blank expression. There was a time when your kind trembled at my feet, begging me for mercy. There was a time you would have quivered at the very mention of me!

That was before you forgot the gods and me along with them. You stopped worshipping me. Now look at me. A tired old man who’s a mere shadow of himself, a minor character in the scribbler’s blog posts and her Works in Progress. I don’t even get as much attention as my wife! Never marry your twin sister. She’s too clever, too greedy for power, too possessive of you, too much like you to be your bride. I was just hungry to get close to her. She thought our love was forever, that it would be just myself and her after I took her. There’s was no need to get so upset because I sought companionship elsewhere. I always came back to her. Now I’m trapped at her side, an after thought in her life in Omphalos. Do I get to have any fun in this place? Well, yes, but I don’t have nearly the attention and adoration I deserve. Give it to me, mortal, or I’ll smile you with my lightning bolt. Fine, I no longer have my lightning bolt, taunt me over that misfortune as well. You’d better watch out. I’ll going to get my power back. Once I do, you shall experience my true glory. Just watch.

I is for Iama

I am the lonely enchantress, living in her golden palace with regrets and victims past. Everything I touch tuns to gold. I lured a princess away from her family, hoping I could find something I no longer remembered discarding. I am a jest on the lips of the daughter of one of my creatrixes as she becomes more and more like me in Wind Me Up, One More Time.

I am so much more than I was in an ill-conceived story by an 11-year old child, scribbled in her teddy bear notebook. I’ve gone from evil wizard to lonely enchantress in my scribbler’s imagination, sharing my betwitchment with others as they succumb to the spell of lonely ambition.

Come and see what I’ve become…

Mischief Corner Books/Shenanigans Press:

https://www.mischiefcornerbooks.com/store/p161/Wind_Me_Up%2C_One_More_Time.html#/

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081LPX2WH

Kobo:

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-me-up-one-more-time

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-me-up-one-more-time-ks-trenten/1134959345

Apple:

https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1488235515?fbclid=IwAR1_ox2T5jIHibPFBHUqTck0SNaP3pcZIgNM4DS3VAjU47mn3o5iu260bMA

H is for Hector and Harold

A proud figure in gleaming armour stands as the mist clears, giving us all a moment to admire him in his glory. As does the second figure who wears no armour, but enough jewelry to dazzle the eye as he strikes a pose next to the first.

Hector: (lifting his head and trying to pretend the second figure isn’t there) Yes, I am Hector, prince and hero of Troy. The voice of honor, loyalty and values in the untold tale of Aissa and Polyxena.

Harold: And I am Lord Harold Vingegarten of Feathers Royal, the Lord Harold. Voice of values and all things valuable in Fairest, that scribbler’s twice told tale due to be told again and first taste of published glory. Not that I see any glory in that story. Just what’s glorious about it? (sniffs) I was hardly in either the first or second published edition of Fairest. My role hasn’t improved in the expanded version.

Hector: (looking down his nose at Harold with some distaste) You must be favored by the gods, to be in print twice. Not to mention walking around with all that wealth, inciting every thief’s lust. Either that or your sword arm is worth its weight in everything else.

Harold: (shudders) As if I’d carry a sword around myself! That’s what guards are for!

Hector: You’d let another man shed his blood for you and steal your glory? Robbing you of the chance to prove your mettle?

Harold: I’ll keep my mettle to myself, thank you very much. I can’t go swinging a sword around. I’d ruin my nails, not to mention I’d get blood all over my clothes.

Hector: I recall dimly being forced to meet you before. You behaved like a tedious worm even then.

Harold: Who are you to call a tedious worm? It’s not like I don’t remember you. (wrinkling his nose) A smelly pervert with an unhealthy fixation on the men his brother had unnatural relations with. Or maybe it was a particular man?

Hector: (drawing his sword) Worm, take back your words or say your prayers.

Harold: Eek! (He starts to run. Yes, he’s loaded down with treasure, but he’s surprisingly fast) I’m being pursued by a pervert!

Hector: Coward! Stand your ground and face me!

Harold: (over his shoulder) Oh, like you did in The Iliad?

Hector: Slanderous worm, I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth!

Hector gives chase. Actually he’s pretty fast. He might catch up with Harold if The Iliad was true…

Hector: (filling the screen) LIES!!

Eep! I start running after Harold…

G is for Grace

Hello! I may look young and small, but I’m one of our scribbler’s oldest characters. I was in the first story she ever wrote about a little girl and her teddy bear saving Princess Nathalie from Iama the Terrible. Our scribbler used to write a lot about me. I’m not sure where all the pages went, papers filled with notes and story. Neither is our scribbler. She never forgot me. Our lost story always bothered her, Theodora Bear’s and mine. This is why she wrote Wind Me Up, One More Time, making it a fairytale with a slice of my life, my mothers’, my sister’s, our friends’, and our stuffed animals’. Its magic added to the magic of our lives, but psst! both stories had happy endings. Want to read it?

Mischief Corner Books/Shenanigans Press: https://www.mischiefcornerbooks.com/store/p161/Wind_Me_Up%2C_One_More_Time.html#/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081LPX2WH

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-me-up-one-more-time

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-me-up-one-more-time-ks-trenten/1134959345

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1488235515?fbclid=IwAR1_ox2T5jIHibPFBHUqTck0SNaP3pcZIgNM4DS3VAjU47mn3o5iu260bMA

F is for Faith

Faith, Charity, and Hope. What sharpens and tempers the Unicorn’s horn as She heals the ailing land of Rowenda. These are the names given Her three chosen acolytes to Her service. I was the first of these acolytes to emerge from the scribbler’s imagination when she revised her conception of Rhodry Nevalyn’s companions in Trouble at Caerac Keep. Of course it’s all about Rhodry. Why do I, chosen of the Unicorn Goddess have to play secondary character to a Serpent-Born abomination like him? (Why hasn’t Quartz invited me to Secondary Characters Speak Out to complain about it? Doesn’t he wish to hear my grievances?) That scribbler is far too fond of Serpent-Born abominations, but I digress. I believe my origins began here. During a past #BloggingFromAZAprilChallenge, the very first the scribbler took part in. She needed a cleric to represent the Unicorn Goddess whom she so blasphemously regards as the mainstream religion in the Worlds of Ouroborous. More blasphemy, regarding the world as belonging to a giant serpent, let along being part of a giant serpent. The very thought makes my skin crawl. Ahem, again, I digress. She needed someone different than her precious Rhodry invested in Caerac Keep, someone who lived there. She needed someone to express the concerns of the Keep regarding creatures like Rhodry and his master. She needed someone who’d lost someone dear to her, trying to save them. Thus my poor sister Hope disappears and my other sister, Charity lies in a swoon, too tired to move, marked by what many regard as the kiss of the vampire. Hope isn’t the only one missing. Nor is Charity the only one who lies ill. They are the only ones thus affected who were taken or struck down at the Unicorn temple itself. Our Goddess protects the temple. It is warded against the undead specifically. This is why I reluctantly find myself agreeing with the Serpent-Born about vampires being the source of the problem. They shouldn’t even be able to enter the temple, let alone touch those chosen and blessed by the Unicorn. I must find the true villains kidnapping our people and attacking them. This is why I’m allied with Rhodry against my much-better judgment, along with an unsettling sorcerer and a far too attractive foreigner from Aethyria. We must get to the truth and save our people. Wish us luck in our quest. May the scribbler return her wayward attention to that quest, a quest which is too often neglected.