For The Greatest Good -- Newsflash and Behind The Scenes

Newsflash

Just a heads up to all those who are following the story Dana and I are writing on this blog. I was very busy last week editing a short story -- the fourth draft of which I have completed now -- and am going to be busy this week reading various stories that several friends and aquaintances of mine have written. I'm not very good at balancing both writing and reading, which is a deficiency on my part that I'm attempting to work on. All writers really should be avid readers, as well.

So the next installment of For The Greatest Good may not come out for a little while. Certainly not this week; I'll have to see about next week.

For those who may be interested, I'll explain the process FtGG goes through before it's finally posted on my blog.

Behind the Scenes

First of all, you must understand that Dana and I are storytellers at heart. It takes only the slightest nudge to get us off on tangent involving story. And not only story, but storytelling. Dana's much better at verbal storytelling than I am, but when both of us are IMing over skype, all it takes is the right cue, and we'll begin a completely unplanned little skit. Back and forth we'll weave a tiny adventure that can last anywhere from a few minutes to several hours, depending.

Such was the case with FtGG. What began as a casual story tangent, turned into an adventure far too intriguing to abandon. And that was even before the creation of Set, which is a story in and of itself. Beleive it or not, Set came about completely by accident, and his existance as a character -- outside of the story, mind you -- is mostly my fault.

But I digress.

One of my personality quirks, I guess you could call it, is that I have a tendency to want to share everything. Especially things I find fun or interesting, and especially with those close to me. So once FtGG started shaping into something more than just a passing tale created by two incorrigable storytellers, I ran through the skype history and copied down all the sections where Dana and I had 'told' FtGG, and printed them out for my siblings to read through. They found it just as interesting as we did. So we continued.

However, at that point, FtGG was just the copied and pasted skype transcript, far from the prose that it is here on the blog. After Dana and I had done a few sections, I got the idea of turning the whole adventure into a book someday. Later on, I started this blog, and then the idea of putting it on here came to me, and stuck. Dana liked the idea, so I went for it.

Now, taking skype transcripts and turning them into prose... It is an interesting challenge.

I had to take this...

[5/12/2012 9:58:45 PM] Sir PenSage: So sorry to have kept Rex here, I kind of bumped into his patrol.

[5/12/2012 9:59:05 PM] Lady PenWarrior: But.... We thought you.... After the battle, when....Not that we blamed you, we couldn't....

[5/12/2012 10:00:02 PM] Sir PenSage: *I raise an eyebrow* I gave the order to run for it, didn't I? I certainly hope the others payed attention, that was a nasty blow over the head I got. The other fellow got worse, though, so it's fine.

[5/12/2012 10:00:29 PM] Lady PenWarrior: We thought they'd imprisoned you.

[5/12/2012 10:01:07 PM] Sir PenSage: *I smile slightly, slightly humored as well, but serious* there is always a path, even when one cannot see it.

[5/12/2012 10:01:27 PM] Lady PenWarrior: Dana, that ENTIRE valley was overrun, how could you POSSIBLY have gotten out?

[5/12/2012 10:02:32 PM] Sir PenSage: As I said, there is always a way.

[5/12/2012 10:02:47 PM] Sir PenSage: Let's just say we ought not to overestimate their patrol patterns.

[5/12/2012 10:03:14 PM] Sir PenSage: Besides, I'm one of the order, aren't I?

[5/12/2012 10:04:48 PM] Lady PenWarrior: *I smile, and then laugh slightly* Yes... yes you are.

 

...And turn it into this.

 

It couldn’t be.

“So sorry to have kept Rex,” Dana continued. “I sort of bumped into his patrol.”

I stared, I admit, if only to convince myself this was really him.  “But… we thought you… after the battle, when… not that we blamed you, we couldn’t…”

He raised an eyebrow, his hand resting easy on the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. “I gave the order to run for it, didn’t? I certainly hoped the others paid attention, that was a nasty blow over the head I got before I was captured. The other fellow got worse, though, so it’s not so bad.”

“We thought they’d imprisoned you.”

At this he smiled, that curious mixture of soberness and humor quirking his mouth. “There is always a path, even when one cannot see it.”

  “Dana, that entire valley was overrun, how could you possibly have gotten out?”

  He merely shrugged. “As I said, there is always a way. Let’s just say… we ought not to overestimate their patrol patterns. Besides, I’m one of The Order, aren’t I?”

  “Yes…” I couldn’t help but smile, and a short laugh escaped me. He had no idea what a relief it was that he had turned up.

 

Dana has to do the same thing for the sections that are written from his perspective.

 

As I said before, it is an interesting challenge. The skype transcripts are very succinct, and not very descriptive when it comes to thoughts and feelings. It's very action based, showing the external far more than the internal. Prose, on the other hand, leaves open for thoughts, emotions, and also sensations.

On the technical side, I open both the document containing the transcript and leave it open on one side of my computer screen, then open the document containing all of my transcribed segments and place that on the other side of the screen. In this way I can write the prose version of whatever section I'm working on without having to switch back and forth between document windows constantly. I can see both of them at the same time and reference each as I need to.

One of the difficulties with transcribing is filling in the gaps while staying true to the pace of the original transcript.  I have a natural tendency to jump straight to the abstract and forget the concrete. I go to the meaning without writing the symbol, as it were. This isn't as much of a problem as it has been in the past, but it does rear its ugly head more often than I'd like. It's a conscious effort to remember the facts as well as the meanings. So when I fill in the gaps, I must keep myself from rambling on explaining emotions. At the same time, however, the goal of turning FtGG into prose is to have the freedom to present the facts in a better, more descriptive manner, not create a replica of what was in the transcript to begin with. It's a balance, and like all balances, it must be continually strived for.

I would have to ask Dana what he finds to be the most challenging aspect of trancsribing, and add onto this post later.

Not surprisingly, the prose sections are much longer than the transcript sections. As such, there have been close to eight prose parts posted on here, while there were only about five parts to begin with. Words add up. As with my other writing, I use my Writer Sense -- an author's super power -- to guess where I should cut off each prose segment. I can invariably tell where to cut a segment off just by knowing it when I come to it. However, I do attempt to keep the segments restricted to a certain length so that they'll be longer than a regular blog post, but not so long that readers will get bored before it's over. I'm not sure if I've succeeded, but I do try.

Once the prose section has been finished, I send it to Dana for him to look over. He checks it for reaction mistakes on the part of his characters. (More on character control later.) Once the proper edits have been made, viola! I post it on my blog for all to see.

Even onces it's posted, however, my wonderful best friend Siani Delaney will read through the latest section and point out any glaring errors I have inevitably missed. Most of the time its a spelling, tense, or grammar error. She's a lifesaver when it comes to the technical stuff, because that is not my area of expertise at all, but it is very much hers.

And that's how it works! The thing, I think, that makes FtGG a little more unique is that it's being written without any prior knowledge to how it's going to turn out. Neither Dana nor I know what is going to happen next until it happens. But both being storytellers, we are able to pull it all together without it becoming a chaotic, aimless mess.

I know this post is getting rather long by now, but I thought it would be interesting to list the characters in conjunction with which of us is writing him/her. Obviously, Dana and I play ourselves within the story, but here are the others.

Characters Written by Dana
Set
Campbell
Captain Wesley

Characters Written by Penny
Rex
Ross

Those are all the characters featured at the moment. I'm sure more will come in later on, but for now these have been sufficient. And now I will end this exeedingly rambling post. Hopefully it's been interesting, at least, or even helpful for those who would like to do a blog story of their own.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Introducing Wynter Croix

Wynnie dear. Isn't she lovely?

Now at long last I shall introduce you to Wynter Croix. Wynnie is a dear friend of mine I met on the OYAN forum, and is an effervescent young lass who kindly agreed to write the legend post for me a couple weeks ago.

As well she joins Dana and I in our love for Scotland. Though there have been a few minor disputes on Campbell's vs. MacDonalds, but I attempt to keep those to a minimum.

Wynnie is working on several novels ranging over various genres, including a historical fiction one set in Scotland that she and I are writing together. She also contributed greatly to Celtic Day at the Summer Workshop in Kansas, and has a lovely voice. I'm going to see if there is a way for us to record ourselves singing The Last Rose of Summer together. But as she lives in Wisconson and I live in Florida, this might be interesting to figure out.



Campbell clan tartan.

So, yeah. That's about it for this intro. I was going to tack this onto the Rahab post, but as you can see, I didn't. This Christmas she's going to get a new medieval costume, and I will wheedle her into taking some pictures of herself in it to post on my blog. I also have a new outfit on order, and Percy has some exciting new weapons. Sometime next week -- after I get this dratted short story of mine edited -- I will take some pictures of Percy's things. I haven't been able to get a tutorial out of him yet. He's been doing a lot of experimenting with varous weapons, so he when he's been at the forge, he was never sure if the project he was working on would be of any use by the time he was done. I'll get on him about tutorials for some of the ones that did, 'cause they're pretty epic.

Alrighty, time for me to head to bed. I should attempt to get to sleep earlier tonight, even though I'm not the least tired. But we all know what happens when I stay up late. Odd blog posts...

Dia duit,
~Penny

For The Greatest Good -- Part VIII (Penny)

Part VIII – Account by Penny Kearney

 

  The bleeding from the cut on my hand stopped. I sat in the corner of the cell, safe, for now, amongst the shadows. It was actually a relief to be left here alone, considering. I was exhausted. Here I could rest and not worry that anyone would prod me, either physically or mentally.

  The memory of Set’s distant gaze peering through me, and the sensation that accompanied it, made me shudder. Or maybe that was just the cold. None of the warmth from above ground reached the dungeon.

  And here, I could be afraid without the wrong people finding out. Even with my usually hopeful outlook, I could not deny that this situation had the likelihood of becoming very dire. What happened next would determine lives. Making the wrong move just wasn’t an option.

  I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling. Closing my eyes meant seeing Rex’s dead face again. I couldn’t do that, so I forced them to remain open.

  How many of Percy and Seph’s troops died after we left? Had Ross allowed the wounded to be treated?

  Probably not.

  I clenched my uninjured fist. A mouse squealed outside my cell, and scurried away. I watched it go, but another shadow caught my attention. Surprise streaked down my spine.

  Set stood in the shadows, staring into my cell at me. I’d been listening for his approach, but hadn’t heard a single sound. Yet there he stood.

  Set stepped more into the dim light that filtered in from some cell window down the hall. Curiosity glinted behind his eyes. “You are so strange, Lady Kearney. A balance of warrior and peacemaker, leader and follower, mentor and friend to many.”

  Remaining in my place at the back of the cell, I let the darkness hide my frown from him. I wasn’t sure if he’d come to gloat, or do what Ross had told him to and activate my ‘gift’. As much as he seemed to be working for Ross, I couldn’t quite believe that he was doing it for Ross.

   “Should I bother asking why you seem to know me so well?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, like one with an impish secret. “And what if I do?”

  “I don’t see how you could. I generally associate with folk far more congenial than yourself.”

  “Congenial…..” He seemed to ponder the word, then shrugged. “I have my ways. You wouldn’t understand them.” He stepped forward once more, standing not three inches from the bars. His gaze shifted from curious, to intent. “But you could.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Why don’t you believe in the gifts, Kearney?” He asked. “Your ‘friend’ seemed rather set on their existence.”

   So that’s what he’d come for. I glanced towards him, letting my gaze linger. Hearing him speak of Dana with such disdain needled the embers inside me that had just begun to go down. Guarding my hand, I rose, and walked to stand just out of his reach by the bars.

  “I believe Dana has something special.” I matched my tone to the quiet atmosphere. “But he insists on saying that all of us do. I don’t.”

  “And what makes you so sure of that? Why should you be any different?”

  I shrugged. “Why should I be the same?”

  “Ah, but there you are wrong.” The unnerving smile returned. “One can be the same, and yet different. You are human. I am human. And yet we are worlds apart in difference.”

  My gaze sharpened.  “You are not human.”

  Though I’d thought those words several times, saying them out loud confirmed this reality.

  Set’s laughter filled the hall, a desecration of the cold, somber quietude. “Ah, there you are quite right. But you get my point; you have a gift, you simply deny it.” His expression suddenly sharpened again. “Why is that?”

  I blanked. What was I meant to tell him? That I had more important things to do? That even if I could, I wouldn’t take a power, that I had enough things to figure out, to worry about, without adding some abnormal ability on top of it?

  That I wasn’t sure I could be trusted with one?

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Is that so…”  He narrowed his eyes. “What if this gift could have saved your precious soldiers?”

  My throat tightened. I forced myself to continue holding his gaze.

  “What if this gift would have been the one thing that could have won the battle against Ross. And you must admit, it came within a hair’s edge! But…you lost.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. Just because you….didn’t want it. How selfish. All those dead….”

  “I know what you want!” I snapped, smothering my conscience. “They’re dead, for whatever reason. Whatever gift may or may not have saved them can’t save them now, and I’m not going to give it to you.”

  Set shook his head, chuckling, eyes twinkling. “You honestly think I want to use your precious power, don’t you?”

  I frowned. No, but you’re definitely up to something.

  “No. I do not. Leave that to Ross, whatever his plans are.” He waved his hand in a gesture dangerously close to scorn. The twinkle died, replaced with a glint of pure, sadistic anticipation. “What I want….is to see your friend, Dana, suffer. I want to see him fail, despair, loath life and his actions that backfire upon him! And I’m doing that quite well, thanks to you.”

  In spite of wishing I could bash his face against the stone wall, I searched his expression. “Why? What has he done to you?”

   “Nothing!” He grinned. “Nothing at all. Isn’t it splendid? That’s not to say he doesn’t deserve it, eh? But that aside, the fact that he doesn’t makes it all the more sweet.”

   This man was insane. I’d been right. He really wasn’t human. At least, not anymore. The desire to hit him returned.

  “Go on.” He said. “Become angry once more, it will serve no purpose but to tire you even more. The only thing that will help you…” His tone dropped. “Is to find your gift. Why do you thnk Campbell and Ross feared you all, tried to destroy you all? It certainly wasn’t because of your skills, I can tell you that. No…. the guardian knights are gifted. Even Ross knows that, and yet you refuse to. How interesting.”

  The recklessness that comes with the warmth of anger rose inside me, and I moved closer to the bars, giving Set a taunting look. “I’m stuck here. Whether I find my ‘gift’ or not, I’m still stuck here. So what makes you think that I am going to just hand over the one thing you’re asking me to give, just like that? Why shouldn’t I frustrate you as long as possible, since it doesn’t make any difference to my outcome anyways?”

  “Because…” Set grasped one of the bars with his hand, holding my gaze. “He is coming.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He?

  “Your end will not be at Ross’s sword.” Set said. “My twin is stronger than those fools think, and I did not kill all your forces. Even they know that. You must be ready to fight, for you will. And if you do not have an edge…. Who knows what will happen this time, hm?”

  My thoughts raced again. Set had a maddening way of seeming to know everything and telling everyone nothing. Until, that is, he saw fit. None of this made sense. Not only the appalling idea that Set had a twin, who for all I knew could be worse than he was, but also how this affected me in any way. What did my forces have to do with any of that? Was his twin opposed to Ross in some way? And if so, what gave him the idea that I would help? Unless his twin also had wicked designs on myself and the other members of The Order.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” His stare was unblinking. “That, I cannot do.”

  For some reason I believed this. Maybe because amidst so may evil traits, it seemed ironically fitting that he would have one good one that he could twist to his will.

  “Why should I fight this…..twin? Why shouldn’t I just let him destroy you all?”

  Set shook his head, like I was missing the point. “Who could possibly be my twin, Kearney? It should be obvious. How else would I know he’s coming?”

  How was I supposed to kno—

  My thoughts halted. “You don’t mean—“

  He nodded, his smile growing once more. “He will always find a way. Even I cannot alter that.”

  Of course…. Why had I not thought of this?

  No, I knew why. Because as much as Set looked, and even sounded, like Dana, he was just too evil for me to associate them with each other in any way beyond aesthetics. When Set had said ‘twin’, I’d thought he’d meant someone like him. Not his complete opposite. And perhaps I didn’t think of it because I wanted to believe that Set was nothing more than a look alike. A coincidence. I didn’t want to believe that he and Dana had anything in common besides appearance.

  But now I understood what Set meant. Dana was coming for me, and if we were to be successful in escaping – maybe even completing our original rescue mission – we would need an advantage.

  “What do you want from me, Set?” I said, gaze leveled on him. “You’re working for Ross. You should not be trying to convince me to use my ‘gift’ against him.”

  Set chuckled. “Good, you’re using your head. Now, whoever said I was working for Ross? I like to call it a ‘convenient acquaintance’. Temporary, of course.”

  I’d suspected something like this. “Then what do you want?”

  “That I’ve already told you. You have a poor memory.”

  “That cannot be it. If it is, then my ‘gift’ has nothing to do with it anyways.”

  “Then what, oh wise one, could it possibly be? I cannot lie.”

  Ugh, he was maddening. “Even if I have a gift, it’s of no use to you, so why bother.” I abandoned my position to return to the shadowed corner. I was done. I wanted him to go away so I could think.

  “Because if you die, your friends die with you.” Set said, tone ominous. “And if Dana dies, so do I.”

  I paused, frowning at the grimy stone wall.

  “You see, I am rather….” He searched for the right word. “Invested, in his survival.”

  “Do you mean to say that the only way to kill you is to kill Dana….?” I turned my head to watch his form out of the corner of my eye.

  He beamed. “Good girl, using your head!”

  “Oh, shut up!” I snapped. “You’re so childish.”

  “Now who’s being childish, the one who refuses what’s staring her in the face, or the one who is nothing but honest in speech, hm?”

  I made no reply, turning my gaze on the back wall once again. My hand throbbed.

  Set’s footstep scuffled against the ground. “As you wish, then. I’ll leave you to your pondersings, but remember: you do not have forever.”

  Just leave.

  “No….” He paused. “No, you have even less time than I thought.”

  A tingle ran down my spine, and I glanced back at him. His smile was gone, and his gaze distant, as if seeing something else. “He comes to kill me. Good…”

  My stomach twisted. “It works both ways, doesn’t it?”

  Set glanced me a smile. “Rather ironic, isn’t it?"

  Dana, you fool!

  Without another word, Set left, his footsteps fading almost the instant he vanished from sight into the darkness.

  My entire body trembled. I lowered to my knees. Thoughts spun in my head so fast they almost made me dizzy. If I couldn’t figure out what to do, Dana was going to walk right into a trap.

For The Greatest Good -- Part VII (Dana)

Part VII -- Account by Dana MacDonald

  Throbbing pain, relentless, like drums behind my temple pounding in ceaseless rhythm, was my first sensation. It took a while to push through the feeling, all my other senses still swimming. Over time, however, I regained my awareness, thoughts formulating, but in a jumbled mess.

  Can’t… sleep now.  Got to… get… to Percy. Left flank’s… crumbling, they’ll… break... the shield wall…

  I forced my eyes open. Dawn’s light lanced into my vision, and I shut my lids against it, allowing myself more time to collect my scattered memories and thoughts.

  No… we lost…. Can’t… stay for long, have to keep traveling, find… the others…

  I groaned and rolled over onto my stomach. Pushing up against the ground with my hands, I managed to lift myself off the ground. Fighting a wave of light-headedness, I staggered to my feet, swaying. I immediately missed the weight of my sword. Glancing down, I saw the weapon lying on the ground next to where I had been prone a few moments before.  The steel glittering with reflected sunlight. I stared at the sword for a moment, confused.

  I always have it sheathed and near at hand. Why…

  Clear memory flooded into my mind, and I shut my eyes once more, sinking to my knees.

  I had failed.

  Once again, I had failed the order. Opening my eyes, I looked around at the silent ruined camp. The evidence of my realization was all too plain, written in the accusing faces of fallen warriors scattered about the charred and scuffed earth.

  Be proud; this loss compounds even your previous failure to them.

  The hated voice echoed in my head, and I clenched my teeth, willing it to be gone from my thoughts, but as always, it stayed, mocking and arrogant.

  They do not trust you. You saw her face; she does not believe. None of them do. And now, they never will.

  I reached out and grasped my sword, staring at the simple blade, yet deadly and elegant to me for its use. The red pommel stone glittered as I sheathed the weapon, standing. I turned my back to the camp and began walking toward the tree line, following the trail Set and his followers had left. It was not a hard course to follow; Set had made no efforts to disguise their course, which led into the forest toward Campbell’s fortress.

  I began to run, following the path of beaten vegetation and boot-marked earth. No heed did I give any more to secrecy, speed was what I needed now, so that I would have time to…

  To do what?

  I tried to ignore the thought, but it would not be silenced. I skirted tree trunks and burst through shrubbery, growing ever closer to Campbell’s castle. Purposely, I gave no heed to my inner compass. I knew that it could find no path now.

  Pushing through a confused mass of branches and thick leaves, I came out quite suddenly into the morning sun. I was standing on the hilltop that I and Penny had traveled only the previous night. Campbell’s fortress reared up from the still moat waters, back dropped against the mountains behind it that formed the Scar range of mountain peaks. I took the time to recover my breath and surveyed the view. Peering across the moat to the castle’s ramparts, I could just barely make out the movement of guards, and the early light caught every so often on the blades of swords or spears. Direct approach was no longer an option here. I sighed; there was nothing else I could do, save one thing only, and that had little hope. I let my eyes drift half-way shut, and let my mind focus, willing something, anything, to deny what I felt innately.

  Find her. Come on…

  Nothing. There was no path.

  It took a moment for the thought to sink in; only once before had this happened, and that had been when Set had…

  I shook my head. There had to be another way, there always was! I tried to focus once more, but I could hear Set’s mocking laughter from some time ago still echoing in my head.

  Go on, try. I dare you. I’ll be waiting.

   “No. won’t win this, not again. You may have taken me, but I was not broken. I am still your greatest weakness, and you mine,” I murmured under my breath, but I could not sustain such false bravado.

   “There must be a way,” I said to myself, and again surveyed the castle and its surrounding grounds.

  There is… the final path.

  The thought came unexpectedly, and I would have brushed it aside, had I not been certain it was my own. And I was certain; no influence of Set would ever draw forth such a notion.

  I lowered my head. Yes, it was an option, but would even that path be enough to get in? I turned to the castle once more, and let my focus, my desire, settle itself on that one thought, the final path.

  Almost at once, I felt it. The way was laid out in my mind’s eye, and I felt the security in it, even in so dread a path. I turned back into the trees and began walking the tree line just inside of the forest, so as to avoid being sighted by a guard from the castle’s walls. Based on the direction I was currently traveling, I suspected my entrance would be through the old dungeons, the same path I and Lady Kearney had originally planned to take. It seemed ironic at the moment, but I felt no humor in it, only bitter sorrow. Still, one thought kept me consoled, and I gripped the hilt of my sword as I traveled.

  I am coming, Set. And this time, this final time, you cannot stop me.

Friday Music #9

And so I ressurrect once again to write a long overdue blog post. Today's music is a piece that hints of hope for freedom that is then hunted by an powerful opposing force trying to tear that dream asunder.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Technical Issues

For some unknown reason, my blog was having some technical issues that prevented me from posting anything. Thankfully, though, it's back online. Really had me worried there for a litte bit. I like this blog too much to lose it...

Dia duit,
~Penny

For The Greatest Good -- Part VI (Penny)

Part VI – Account by Penny Kearney

  I swallowed, my throat sore from the lump there that refused to leave. On the walk back to Campbell’s castle, the loss of my troops sank in even deeper. My stomach had finally stopped churning, my head stopped spinning, leaving now just a steady smoldering in my heart – sparks waiting to start a fire.

  The cry of the trumpets died down as Set led the way with swaggering steps into the throne room. The four guards surrounding me gave me my space, one sporting a blotched bruise on his jaw, and another a red streaked scratch over his eye. However my little victories against their previously overbearing escort style came at the price of a still tender bruise on my side. The leather breast and back armor I wore had kept the blow from doing more damage than it could have, and consequently Set had ordered it removed in case I should have a sudden change of mind about our ‘little agreement’. Even still, the guards now afforded me the distance I’d wanted, and thus I considered the bruise and loss of my armor worth it. Anything that made my captors regret having to look after me – without inciting them to kill me – I counted as a win.

  Ross and Campbell stood by the dais at the end of the long, blue edged red carpet. A fireplace roared on the left, permeating the chamber with warmth to drive off the autumn chill.

  Set halted near the two nobles, I and my escorts doing the same.

  “My Lords Ross and Campbell,” Set bowed to each of them. “My assault has yielded double benefits. Not only were the rebels destroyed utterly, I managed to capture another of the esteemed enemy order. Their head, no less.” Moving aside and making a dramatic gesture, Set announced, “Lady Kearney, leader of your famed insurgency and head of the guardian order.”

  As the nobles turned their attention on me, I met their scrutiny with a kindled gaze. I had hoped the next time I would see either of those men would be with a sword in my hand. But here I stood. Their prisoner.

  A smug expression crept onto Campbell’s face, while a cross between a grin and a sneer widened on Ross’s.

  He clapped his hands together. “Set, you outdo yourself!”

  Set shrugged. “Oh, no need to thank me, my lord; I enjoyed it heartily.”

  I clenched my jaw to keep from saying what sprang into my mind.

  “Well done, Set.” Campbell agreed, stepping forward at last and eyeing me for a moment before looking to Set. “But where is the other one?”

  “He was left alone,” A slight smile quirked the edge of his mouth. “To think on what happens to those who resist their rightful rulers. He is alone, and unaided.”

  Ross nodded in approaval, clasping his thick hands behind his back once more. “Brilliant. He can relate firsthand what transpired, should he come across any more of their supporters.”

  Campbell retreated back to the throne, but I caught his slight frown before he turned away. How much of this alliance had been his idea? It occurred to me suddenly, considering the interaction between the two so far, that Ross appeared to be far more enthusiastic about this situation than Campbell did…

  But why? Why was Campbell letting Ross take control? Didn’t he see that that’s what was happening here?

  Retaining his dramatic flair, Set knelt before Ross and held out my sword to him. “Lord Ross, to add to your collection, I humbly present RuneBinder.”

  Again, I tensed. The urge to dart between the guards and give Set a good shove and ruin his little show rose up, but I quelled it. Right now, I needed to wait.

  Ross’s knifelike grin returned as he grasped RuneBinder’s hilt and raised it before him. He turned it so the blade glittered in the firelight, and the ornate inscriptions that ran two thirds along the shining steel almost glowed. Pleasure gleamed in his dark eyes as he gazed along its length.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the smile Set cast my way. A shiver ran down my spine unbidden, and I pretended to ignore him, clenching my fist. Adrenaline still coursing through me with every heartbeat made my muscles quiver at intervals. Fear and anger battled in my mind for dominance.

  Ross approached me. I kept my eye on RuneBinder. I’d known Ross for a while, and wouldn’t put the ironic idea of killing me with my own weapon past him.

  “It is said that members of your order have certain…..powers.”

  Campbell perked at Ross’s comment, and Set chuckled.

  “Indeed they do, my lord.” Set folded his arms. “Fortunate for us, otherwise we’d not be in this position. I made sure to thank the last for that factor.”

  Ross raised his caterpillar brows at me. I glanced up at his face once, but then returned it to its averted position, clasping my hands behind my back to restrain them. I knew what he wanted to know, and I debated an answer.

  But he became impatience in the silence. “Well?”

  I shrugged. “I have nothing.”

  His brows now furrowing, Ross narrowed his eyes, but before he could conjure a suitable reproach, Set tapped his arm to move him aside, and stood in front of me. I bristled at his proximity, meeting his probing gaze with a glare.

  He tilted his head, then seemed suddenly to look beyond me. My breathing stopped. My glare faltered. Something in my head began to throb, then—

  His gaze focused. The throbbing withdrew like a splinter from flesh, and I drew in a sharp breath. My heart hammered.

  What did he just do to me?

  A smile touched his mouth. “No…. she does not. She does not believe.” He glanced at Ross, stepping back again. “And by extension, hers is rendered inactive.”

  He’s crazy. I narrowed my eyes at him. All of this is crazy. Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with these old legends?

  I felt cold steel against my neck, and swatted it away on reflex. RuneBinder’s blade bit into my fingers, and I cried out, pacing away and gripping my wrist.

  Ross snorted behind me. “As their leader, she is useful whether she has a power or not. However…. See if you can ‘activate’ hers.”

  I didn’t need to turn around to know the smirk that crossed Set’s face.

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  “Will you need this?”

  “No, it is merely a piece of fancy steel. My lord’s collection would do best with it.”

  “Good.” His tone emanated smug satisfaction. I kept my back turned on him, pressing my hand against my tunic to stay the bleeding. “Good.”

   This seemed to be the end of the conversation. Set snapped his fingers, speaking to the guards. “Take her to the cell prepared for her arrival. I will be along momentarily.”

  The guards fell into their positions around me once more. I gave them looks that told them they would not have to drag me; I would walk. So I followed them out of the throne room, not even affording the three men behind us a final glance.

  Our footsteps echoed in the halls, boots against stone, an irregular pattern. The warmth from the fire in the throne room dissolved, leaving now the whispering dank chill of the castle to taunt me. My cloak still lay at the bottom of the moat where I’d left it without heed. The gentle throb of pain from the cut on my fingers distracted my mind from considering my predicament too deeply. We wove through a maze of halls, then finally descended a winding staircase down into a haze of blackness beneath the castle itself. Only a few torches lit the way at the bottom of the staircase, where two lanky guards stood flanking a massive wooden door, making them look like ghouls guarding a gate to some ancient tomb.

  “Set’s orders.” The guard escorting me on the front stated. “This one for the cell prepared earlier.”

  With a nod, the ghoul on the left pulled out a ring of keys, inserted them and twisted them in the lock, and grasped one of the two ring handles. His fellow ghoul assisted him in hauling the wooden door open on hinges that groaned but once.

  The guard behind me gave me a shove. I stumbled through the entrance. The scent of mold and water penetrated my nostrils, and tightened my throat.

  “Well, well.” A burly figure appeared at my side, grasping my arm. This time, I didn’t fight the intruding touch.

  My escorts still stood on the other side of the threshold. “This is the one Set promised. Put her away. He’ll be along shortly, he said.”

  The jailer grunted, nodding, then stared at me as his ghouls heaved the dungeon door shut once again. I stared back. His eyes were wide, his jaw square, his shoulders broad, and his wiry hair pulled back in a ponytail. His skin was pale, even in the darkness, making it impossible for me to tell if his hair was black or if that was just the lighting. Or rather, lack of it. An ambiance of light filtered in and mingled with the shadows, though I couldn’t tell where it came from.

  Releasing me, the jailer plodded down the cell lined hall. The keys jingled on his belt. “Come on. There’s nowhere else to go.”

  I glanced back at the closed door. He was right, there wasn’t anywhere else to go. I watched him go a few paces before, and considered staying put and making him drag me to the cell. But I was tired. Tired from the fight, from the walk, from the roiling emotions in the throne room. If he turned out to be a harsh man, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Warily, I trailed him.

   In here, our footsteps sounded damp, unlike in the halls above us where not a move could be made without the sound bouncing off the walls. Here, each step scraped, muffled.

  As we walked, I glanced side to side at each black barred cell we passed.

  “There were prisoners from the battle.” I said.

  The jailer grunted.

  “Where are they?”

  “Some fifteen of them over there in the West Wing.” He replied, as if giving directions on where to find a certain stall in a marketplace.

  I hesitated. Did I really want to know? “What’s their condition?”

  “What’s their condition? They’re in the dungeon, everyone here ends up in the same condition eventually; it doesn’t matter.”

  I swallowed, trying to dispel the moldy taste on my tongue. “There were two special ones. Drake and Armstrong; generals.”

  “Here we are.”

  “What?”

  The jailer stopped in front of a cell and used his keys to open the door. Without waiting, he grabbed my arm and shoved me inside. He shut the door with a bang, jingle, and click, and vanished into the darkness.

  “Hey!” I shouted, coming to the bars. “Where are my brothers? Answer me!”

  His only response was the gradually fading shuffle of footsteps.

  I stood there for several long moments, staring into the murky darkness. Not even torches warded the chill here. Not a single soul occupied the cells around me. Not a single sound except the scuttle of mice, and the whirring of thoughts inside my head.

  Now what are you going to do, Penny?

  Now what?

For The Greatest Good -- Intermediate I

Intermediate I -- The Throne Room

  Two men occupied the throne room of Campbell’s castle. It was not a large throne room, simple and just large enough to comfortably fit the throne, a few courtiers, and whoever else holding an audience with the castle’s owner.  Tapestries displaying past battles hung along the walls, and on the wall behind the throne hung the blue and red standard of the Campbell house. Torchlight chased shadows around the stone chamber, the sun having set some time ago.

  One of the men in the room was, indeed, Lord Campbell himself. He was a lean man, dressed in a tunic of colors that matched the standard behind the throne. His blond brows furrowed over his muddy brown eyes as he paced back and forth at an even pace in front of the dais holding the throne. He’d dismissed the servants some time ago, as he usually did when he spoke for an extended amount of time with Lord Ross.

  “Your forces better know what they’re doing, Ross.” Campbell cast a glance towards his companion. “Even in defeat, those rebels can still strike a bitter blow.”

  Lord Ross himself possessed jet black hair, beard, and brows, all as thick as his broad build. He waved, dismissive of Campbell’s comment. “They will not be able to strike for some time, and by then my secondary army will have arrived and they will be as ants beneath our boots.”

  To this, Campbell stopped pacing, and arched his eyebrows. “Like your glorious victory last time? If not for my help, you wouldn’t even have one of their order captured. And what happened to the one you did manage to capture? Oh, that’s right. He escaped.”

  Ross snarled at the mockery in Campbell’s tone. “That was the point of the plan.”

  A trumpet blasted, drowning Campbell’s rebuttal.

Introducing Robert Carter

If you've read the About Me page (which, admittedly, is not only about me), you probably already have an inkling of who Robert Carter is. Younger brother of Dana, and excellent photographer. As well as photography, he also draws and plays around with digital art, including book covers and posters for our stories. When we made our movie over one of the three weeks of vacation we took up by them, he was in charge of the cinematography and directing. That's normally what I do, but his eye for angles is ten times better than mine, so we ended up with a far more interesting set of perspectives once all was said and done.

Of all of us, Bob is the most outgoing. He holds the rank of Ambassador in the PenKnights order, and performed it quite well during the OYAN Summer Workshops in Kansas.

I asked Robert the other day if he would make up some posters/covers for For The Greatest Good. It didn't take him more than a couple days to come up with these:

 



 

 

 

 

 

As per usual, he did an excellent job. And he also created this little ditty on photoshop, as well.

 

 



 

 

There, that's a nice, bright post for you! And now you know more about Robert Carter.

 

Dia duit,

~Penny



Personality Fun

So lately I spoke with a good friend of mine, R.G. Nairam, and the subject of personality types came up. We didn't go that far into the topic because at the time we were discussing more important things, but later she sent me a link to a website where I could take a personality test. Being rather a curious person by nature, I followed her suggestion. People and personalities have always fascinated me to no end.

This is what I got:

So now I've had every friend possible who hasn't taken the test take the test, including several of my siblings and even my Mother. It's been loads of fun comparing the various types, seeing how they match up in real life, and how there are variations even within the specific personality types. For example, my Mother is ENFP just like me, but her Thinking/Feeling ratio is almost exactly half and half, whereas mine is, obviously, not.

It may just be me, but I find all of this intriguing. It really helps, also, when it comes to creating and writing characters in stories, acting, and even role play. Check it out, even if you don't use this specific website or do a test for yourself.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Legend Post #10 -- Rahab (Guest Post by Wynter Croix)

Since I'm still waiting for an approved picture from Wynter, I'll introduce her in another post. But for now, I'm tired of waiting to post this.

~*~

 

Salmon, the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab.

Boaz, the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth.

Obed, the father of Jesse.

And Jesse, the father of King David.

                                                                                ~Matthew 1:5 The Genealogy of Jesus

                At the beginning of the summer, my mother plopped an

intense, twelve week discipleship course called Godly Character

by Vinnie Carafano in front of me. I’d known it was coming for a

month or two, and had picked out who was to be my mentor –

Lindsey, my voice teacher and brand new mommy to baby Eli-, but

that was in May.

I panicked.

                I love being a Christian. I love Jesus Christ, I love

praising Him, and I love my faith with every fiber of my being.

There’s nothing like popping in my Casting Crowns CD or turning

on K-LOVE and singing along, my way of prayer. Or just talking

to God while I clean my room or walk down the little back roads

around my house.

But I am so not a Bible reader.

                This is… less than desirable. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes

I feel the urge to open that really, REALLY big, INTIMIDATING

book and just read. But I also have the urge for structure.

Chaos is cool, if I have structure to go along with it. I’d had

no idea where to begin reading. To me, that was utter chaos.

                Godly Character begins with the New Testament. (There’s the

structure I was looking for!) I opened my book to Matthew and

started reading, prepared to (I’ll be honest) completely skim

over Jesus’s genealogy.

Until I saw the name Rahab.

                Back in the winter, when I actually had time to read, I

came across a book in a mega-church library called Pearl in the

Sand by Tessa Afshar. It was the love story of Rahab, the

prostitute who had been saved because of her faith, and Salmon,

leader of the tribe of Judah. I loved the book. Girls out there,

if you’re fluffy like myself, and love Biblical love stories, go

for this book.

                At the end of the book (No spoilers! I promise!) they

mention Boaz, Rahab and Salmon’s first son and later, husband of

Ruth. When I first finished that lovely piece of romantic

literature, it didn’t quite register. Until I read the first page of Matthew months and months later.

Jesus’s ancestor was a Canaanite prostitute.

                  Ms. Afshar provides some insight to what might have been

Rahab’s past and historical truth. In Jericho and other

Canaanite cities, many fathers sold their daughters into

prostitution when times were rough. Whatever money the daughter

made, a portion of it was given to the family. Sometimes, this

situation was considered an honor. This easily could have been

our heroine’s story.

                The Bible doesn’t tell us exactly how Rahab’s faith came

about. We just know that this was a faith we all should admire

and strive for. She risked her life for two men, whom she had

just met, hid them in her inn, and asked that they spare her.

How could she have done that without faith? For all she knew,

those men could be lying. They would forget about her. Her faith

kept her strong. God showed himself to a prostitute, a Canaanite

prostitute.

And she was richly rewarded. After Jericho was demolished,

Rahab and her family were accepted by the Israelites, and she

became an ancestor of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Let’s switch to Salmon, her husband for a sec. This guy was

the leader of the tribe of Judah. Yet, he married Rahab, whom

everyone knew was a famous prostitute in Jericho. This wasn’t a

marriage to gain wealth. This wasn’t arranged. This marriage

wasn’t for political power. This was love. An unconditional

love. Why else would a great leader, a friend of Joshua, a

commander in the Israelite army, marry a former prostitute? 

Salmon was deeply in love with this woman. 

This wasn’t just love, it was grace. God’s grace long

before Jesus came into the world. The Israelites had incredibly

strict rules about who they associated with, what they touched,

and who touched what they touched.

We think of the God of the Old Testament as strict and

angry and jealous, sometimes forgetting He’s more than just

hellfire and instead, filled with fiery love. Rahab was His

child, just like Salmon was, like Joshua was. And He loved her,

as He did His chosen people. This broken woman was indeed a

pearl in the sand, a lost treasure.

We’re all sort of like that, lost treasure. Pearls in the

sand of the world. Like Rahab, the sand around may be deep and

thick, and it takes drastic measure to dig us out. Some are

blessed with wind to carry away the light grains, allowing them

to be revealed in the sunlight.

We’re all pearls. We’re all in different sand. But it takes

a loving God and his gentle touch to show us there is more than

just sand. It won’t always be a Salmon, or spies, or the

freaking tumbling down of Jericho. But He’s there. He’s digging

us out, even if we sink deeper.

We’re not just any pearls, we’re His pearls.

                ~*~

Dia duit,
~Penny