mbpendragon

[mbpendragon]

okay this is how I actually think their relationship could be like in Hades II (they're getting along)

[mbpendragon]

What I Want From DnD 6e

Wizards of the Cost has now put out two surveys for both the Races and Classes/Subclasses in the Players Handbook, which suggests they’re either gearing up for a Remastered Edition with updated rules and features, or they’re preparing for 6th Edition. Or perhaps like with 3rd Edition we’re about to get a 5.5 Edition. So, whether we get a 6th Edition, a 5.5 Edition, or just a remastered edition of the PHB, I wanted to air my larger scope desires moving forward. These are in no particular order, just my personal opinions, and I don’t need all of these fulfilled to be happy. These are just ideas I’m spit-balling.

A larger Spells Known List for Sorcerers: Sorcerers only get 15 spells total, while Wizards get 44. If Sorcerer and Wizard are supposed to be the quintesential pair of arcane mastery, it doesn’t look good when the Sorcerer has literally ¼ the spells of the Wizard. Clerics, Druids, and even Paladins get more spells than the Sorcerer, and if you count Mystic Arcanums, then even the Warlock gets more spells than the Sorcerer. Whether they get Origin Spells or just larger spells known in general, these masters of the arcane need more spells. 

More Spell Slots for Warlocks: This is more of a personal grievance. The warlock is so limited that you are pretty much backed into a corner to rely on Eldritch Blast and discouraged from taking any spells that don’t deal damage. The only out is to play a blade pact warlock where your weapon attacks are a valid second option to casting spells or relying on Eldritch Blast. I think giving the Warlock spell slots equal to half their level rounded down or otherwise limiting the maximum amount to about 8-10 would at least relax the crushing grip that restrains the class as casters.

More Domains for Clerics: Clerics have one of the biggest subclass lists in the game, but look at the domains of 3.5e, and you’ll actually start to feel jealous over how few options we have in 5e. So many great options aren’t available, or are “covered” by an inadequate substitute. There’s no Ocean domain, but those gods are lumped into Tempest. A domain that has nothing to do with controlling water. Because flying and farting lightning bolts sounds like a power I would get from worshipping Umberlee. Likewise, every Love deity is crammed into either Life or Light, instead of just giving us a Charm Domain for them to rule over.

Additions to Cleric Domains: So, one thing that 3.5e has that 5e doesn’t is Evil, Good, Lawful, and Chaotic Domains, as well as Racial Domains. I don’t know how this could be implemented exactly, but finding a way to implement alignment or race into a cleric build when building your character would help each god feel different, even if it was in small ways. It should be different worshipping a Chaotic Evil god of the Sea vs a Neutral Good God of the Sea, or perhaps to see the difference between worshipping the Dwarvish god of Crafting vs the Elvish god of crafting. Doing this can make worshipping Sune different from worshipping Aphrodite, Veranestra, Luthic, or Iallanis, while also making the process of choosing your deity a more laborious choice, rather than slapping any random god into the slot. It’s a way to make who you choose as important as the character you’re building itself.

A Comprehensive Guide of Deities and Patrons: Similar to the Paladin,  I think Clerics and Warlocks would benefit from having a guide to different deities or patron options on an individual level with things like Tenants, unique features for following them, other kinds of boons or bonuses, what they ask of you or how to worship them, and what kinds of things they might want their Cleric or Warlock to do. By having this sort of thing, each individual patron or deity becomes more unique, and there’s a difference between worshipping Asmodeus, being his Warlock, both, or whatever. Even if you like playing as a Life Domain Cleric, serving Demeter would be different than worshipping Apollo. Same Domain, but different figure. Likewise, you could play three different Archfey Warlocks and each time serve a different master with an entirely different objective, boon, or pre-written story hook. Thus, adding more variety while also improving the roleplaying aspect that comes with playing a Cleric, Paladin, or Warlock. Sune might ask her followers to pay craftsmen to create instruments or artwork, while Freya might ask her followers to protect mankind from evil creatures, and Veranestra might delight in her clerics toying with the emotions of mortals. By making each patron or deity unique, it adds a layer to the roleplaying, and even gives non-clerics or warlocks an excuse to actually care about their setting’s pantheon.

Eliminating a Set Casting Stat: So this is likely to be an unpopular opinion, but set casting stats are a crutch when it comes to multiclassing. It’s very limiting, and you’re unlikely to see a Sorcerer/Monk because it requires too many stats and doesn’t leave enough room for other stats to matter. By eliminating a set casting stat, you open the door for a Bard/Cleric who worships the god of music, or a Druid/Paladin who swears an oath to the ancient guardians of the forest. It opens the door for more variety and customization.

Adding a Science Skill: There really should be a skill for knowing things like chemistry, physics, aliens, etc. and a broad-specs Science skill like Arcana for magical things seems about right. Obviously, it would be an Intelligence check.

Giving Player Characters a Trade: Another thing I found in 3.5e that we don’t have in 5e is an ability to invest time into improving on a skill or trade that can be monetized. Sewing, crafting, building, inventing, there’s a lot of room for player characters to have a trade from their backstory, but this seems to have been completely discarded for 5e, as there’s no real mechanics in place for owning your own business or crafting your own goods to sell, which leaves a lot of it to DMs having to make up rules if their players want to do this sort of stuff. Letting characters pick up a trade similar to a feat or gaining a trade from their background would benefit player customization, even on a smaller scale.

Making Players less reliant on the CON stat: This is a personal grievance. I hate that I can’t build a character without needing to invest in this stat. Any other stat can be a dump stat, but CON pretty much is not allowed to be. It wouldn’t matter if it mattered for skills, but it doesn’t. You just have to invest in it, or you’ll get very familiar with your settings’ version of the grim reaper very quickly. A high CON should just make you MORE tanky, but shouldn’t be mandatory to avoid dying. I’ve had many builds undermined by a need to focus on the HP stat that they couldn’t really do anything else.

More Elemental Spells: If you want to build a Fire or Cold damage character, you’ll be fine. Radiant and Necrotic have some variety. And Psychic has gotten more spells lately. But try to build a character with just Lightning spells or just Thunder or Force, and you’ll quickly realize that some elements get way more love than others. The WoTC team needs to really expand on elemental damaging spells to give players more variety with their options. Particularly with Lightning, Thunder, Force, Acid, and Poison damage spells, but even Psychic, Radiant, and Necrotic could still use more variety.

More Thematic Spells: Have you ever wanted to play as Poison Ivy only to realize there’s like 3 spells that actually attack people with plants? Or maybe you wanted to build a character that uses shadow powers, but the number of spells that use darkness or shadows are few and far between? I think DnD would benefit from adding more spells that fit into thematic groups, such as plant-based spells, shadow spells, telekinetic abilities, using fey, celestial, or fiend magic, elemental magic of water, earth, and air, etc. We recently got a lot of new spells for summoners, and that was great. So while it sucks they can only be summoned once at a time, it’s still an improvement over not having any summoning spells at all.

[mbpendragon]

This Time

Walking through the streets of the city, the wind ruffles my hair like an old friend. I know this dancer and this dance.  They prance around me with strength and grace.  

"Zephyr." I breathe. Their familiar fragrance wafts on the breeze. I greet them with my hand and will outstretched. "Today?"

 My eyes  reflect the churning of the clouds pewter in the dying light. My spirit spreads it's wings like a  dream wishing  to dance through the breeze lifted from the earth and carried away to the one whom my heart beats for. 

"Will today be the day you let me dance with you? " 

But my toes only  stretch so far before I remember.The wind is  capricious. We have done this dance before. 

But  I am bound to the earth...mortal.  The realm of air is forbidden  as it belongs to the  Sylphs and their four Kings.

[mbpendragon]

Royal Entrance

Amiel turned to see Reynard standing in the doorway, his long tail wagging behind him. He was the same height as Amiel without his antlers. Fur cover pointed ears poked out of his shoulder length mess of reddish brown curls. His skin was toasted from hours of training in the sun and over the years had developed the physique and  jawline to rival a greco roman centurion. Amiel found comfort that the training necessary to become a palace guard had not dampened the warmth of Reynard's deep set hazel eyes.

For tonight's Gala Reynard,  wore his formal pale blue uniform with  fitted waist coat, slacks belt and polished knee high black boots.  “You clean up nicely” remarked Amiel as he admired the handsome wolf’s attire. 

“Thank you my prince,” Reynard smiled with a bow. 

“Shall we go,”

“Do we have too?” Amiel smirked walking towards the guard. 

“This is your coming out party, I thought you would be looking forward to tonight's festivities.”

“I was but I remembered that most of the people here  are only here to kiss my fathers ass through me rather than actually wanting to celebrate my birthday.”

Reyard chuckled jovially “Perspective as always my prince.”

“Just be sure to save me if anyone tries to propose to me.”

“Of course my prince. I made a vow to protect you.”

“Even from unwanted proposals from hopeful suitors.” Amiel teased closing the distance between them. 

“Even from unwanted proposals.” Reynard reassured Amiel as he offered the Prince his arm. They  stood face to face, hazel eyes looking into deep black eyes. 

“Excellent,” Amiel said with a reassured sigh.

“Now come on, you have kept your guest waiting long enough.”

They walked down the tower staircase that led to the central hall that led to the residences of the king and queen.  They passed down the hallway until they reached the grand staircase. Reynard dropped Amiels arm, kissed his forehead. “Happy Birthday Amiel” Reynard whispers before  taking his place six paces behind the prince. 

“Thank you Reynard.”

A few minutes later Amiel reached the Grand Ballroom doors guarded by two other guardsmen. Amiel felt the cold chill of nerves run up and down his arm.  He needed to be what everyone imagined their prince to be. For some he needed to be regal, and others humble, and for some wise beyond his years and it scared him. He had been training for this most of his life but even years of parties could never fully shake the fear of not living up to the expectations of his supporters and people.  Amiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath and felt the nerves subside to a manageable hum.   

“Your Majesty?” asked  the doorman cautiously. 

 “Thank you Hans, we can begin.” Hans smiled and nodded to the other doorman and they pulled open the large  oak doors. Amiel entered the dark room a practiced smile across his face. Spotlights illuminated his sparkling outfit. Flecks of glitter and sparks emanate from his fingertips as he begins to cast an enchantment over the room. The ball of sparkling gold and silver light grows and twinkles before streaking from Amiel’s hand. The ball of glittering stardust soared over the room, collided into the chandelier, then exploded in a burst of stars showering the crowd below in sparks. 

A voice called out, “Presenting his royal majesty Prince Amiel of Harriden and Heir to the White Stag Throne.” to which the crowd responded with a roar of applause.  With that Amiel waved his hand and the glittering lights regrouped into little floating balls of light that illuminating the entire hall. 

“Welcome.” Amiel said loudly, relieved that the spell had gone without a hitch. Before him stood a glittering crowd of lords, dutchesses, barons, countesses, entrepreneurs and celebrities from all across Rosacea

 Garou of all shapes and breeds mingled together as legions of acrobats, artists and dancers beguiled the crowd. A magician with the ears of a rabbit produced his assistant, a scantily clad raccoon from his hat.   A troupe of faun dancers pranced about the dance circle performing some tribal number from the time of the White Stag. Amiel descended the staircase as Reynard took his place with the other guards who had been posted on the outskirts of the hall.  

Though he would never admit it, Amiel was in his element, passing through the crowd on a cloud of charm and grace. "Lady Annabelle, darling, how long has it been? Mr. Windham how are the children. Barron Luna, thank you for coming, I hope the ride in from the country wasn’t too long for you. "He had the ability to make any moment memorable  with nothing more than a simple grin in your direction. 

Amiel bowed  respectfully to dark haired beauty  with the pointed ears of a cat. Her father was from old money and had raised her like a princess. 

"Diana, it's been ages." He said admiring her outfit, thoroughly impressed before his eyes fell upon the sizable emerald on her finger. "Oh My God," Amiel exclaimed, taking her hand to get a better look at the ring. "You're engaged! Congratulations!!!"

“Thank you,” Diana blushed  before rambling on and on about how they met, to the moment he proposed, and her difficulty deciding between doing a spring wedding in the city or a fall wedding on the cape. Amiel smelled peppermint as Reynard approached to steal him away. 

“Be sure to send me an invitation my dear” said Amiel before turning away  and running head first into a  slender man with dark hair who stood a few inches taller than Amiel.  The drink in the mans hand fell to the floor shattering on the ground between them. His face was olive and thin with sharp angular features from his jawline to his high cheek bones. His eyes were two iridescent amethyst.  In his black tux, Amiel couldn't tell if he was real or had been brought to life from a drawing.

“My apologies.” Amiel stutterd taken aback the strangers beauty.

“Oh please my prince the fault was all mine.”

“Well at least let me get you another one.” remarked Amiel 

“That won’t be necessary, my prince, if you give me the honor of having the first dance of the evening?”

"I accept your offer Mr…?" 

"Ryder… Mr Wes Ryder." Bowed the stranger offering the prince his arm. 

Disarmed by the gentlemans smile,  Amiel snapped his fingers inviting the small orchestra to play a waltz as he took the mysterious and handsome strangers arm. 

Last Episode

[mbpendragon]

Forged in Fire

Asteroids, moons, planets, and star systems zip past the Levant in streaks of multicolored light as the Tridium engines send the ship into hyperdrive. Within minutes they have crossed light years in a manner of minutes.   Over the roar of the jets, Elior called out, “Captain we’ll be approaching the Vega sector in 5 minutes.”

“Very good,” replied Sidara her eyes alight with excitement. She stood atop the bowsprit, the only thing holding her from falling into the space abyss was a strong grip on the line that connected the bowsprit to the fighting top. This was where Sid belonged, and Elior couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sid a shadow against an array of colors. 

It had been seven years earlier and Elior was a second-year cadet at The Interstellar Naval Academy at West Annapolis Space Station. He was on the lawn alongside the rest of his class doing pushups on the green as a firstie barked orders at them as they counted each pushup. Some idiot named Titus had been late for roll call and the rest of them were paying the price for it. 

Eliors arms were tired as the lactic acid built up in his forearms and biceps, but this was child’s play compared to the punishments he faced at home. His mother was a former 3 star Admiral and had raised Elior and his five siblings as midshipmen far longer than he could remember.  His father was not much better as a retired brigadier pilot officer first class in the Interstellar Navy. 

He had reached 162  when he was distracted by the sound of screaming and the roar of the engine. Elior looked up just in time to watch a small skip plummet from the sky and crash into the ground 200 meters away from them. 

Elior didn’t wait for the firstie to relieve him, he just sprang into action.  Dressed in just the dark blue fatigues and sneakers, Elior sprinted across the field towards the crash. His arms chopped through the air like knives propelling forward ahead of his classmates. 

The skiff had crashed behind a row of trees and into a small fountain area that had been dedicated to the Monkey, they sent into space hundreds of years ago. Sirens blared. Black smoke billowed.  The trees were alight in flame.    

“Shipmen Saxe Stand Down!” Yelled the firstie as  Elior approached the wreckage.  But he ignored him tearing off the hoodie and using it to cover his nose and mouth as he jumped into the blaze.   He could barely see, but it was clear that there was little to be done for the statue of the monkey as he was little more than a melted heap.   Elior squinted through the smoke looking and listening for signs of whoever had been aboard the cruiser. 

He heard a groan to his right and rushed over, a third-year shipman laid trapped beneath a broken tree branch.  He was handsome with buzzed pink hair and a charming round face. A bleeding head wound  left a trail of blood  the bottom of the left cheekbone , first running towards his fairly big lips and ending above his right eye where the gash was. He was partially conscious, and groaning from the weight of the branch crushing him. 

“Shipman,” Elior yelled. “Shipman, can you hear me.”

Nothing.  Elior tried to lift the branch but it was too heavy for him  lift.  “HELP!!!!! I found someone!!!!! HELP ME!” The smoke was growing thicker and it was getting hard for Elior to see.  There was another crash as another branch fell to the ground. The whine of the tridium core  crescendoed and  with it Elior wondered if this was how his life would end. 

 He squinted through the smoke  looking for something he could use to  use for leverage to get the  branch.   “Need some help?” said a voice over his  shoulder. 

“Yeah I have to get this branch off him before the tridium engine blows.” 

“You take the branch I pull the guy out.” Said the shipman with their face wrapped in a scarf. 

“Alright  on three,” said Elior as he lifted the branch.  Muscles burning and the breathing getting difficult Elior strained to lift the branch  allowing his fellow shipman to drag out the body of the young man.  

Elior grunted as he dropped the branch with a thud. 

“We’ve gotta go,” Elior coughed. 

“Get under his arm,” the shipman coughed back through the smoke. 

Elior followed instructions well as the two of them carried out pilot out of the smoke and onto the field. As they laid the pink haired pilot on the ground  Elior looked over at the person who had helped him. “Thanks for your help.” Elior wheezed as they were swamped by firemen, emts, and healthcare robots. 

“No problem.” 

“Whats your name?”

“Sidara, but you ca call me Sid” they said as she pulled away the scarf they had tied around her face. She smile at him alight with excitement. The next time you plan to run into a fire be sure to give me a call. 

“Anytime.” Elior laughed before a medical robot handed him an oxygen mask.

Last Episode

[mbpendragon]

Hi Readers,

I thought I would share with you some cover art from the other stories I’m working on. I hope you enjoy and I will post the next chapter of, “Patience & Time” Friday, January 1, 2020 at Noon. 

Catch up on the story

[mbpendragon]

Hi Readers, 

The holiday season is upon us and for grad students like myself that means finals. So rather than share with you a rushed update I thought I would share with you some cover art. I hope you enjoy and I will post the next chapter of, “The Day Runs You” Friday, December 18, 2020 at Noon. 

Catch up on the story.

[mbpendragon]

Hi Readers,

I thought I would also share with you cover art from the other stories I’m working on. I hope you enjoy and I will post the next chapter of, “Tended Rose” Friday, December 25, 2020 at Noon. 

Catch up on the story.

[mbpendragon]

Patience & Time

The sun crept over the Eastern mountains shedding light on the small town of Bamur and melting the frost to dew.  A warm breeze from the south carries the smell of spring to the charming town. Situated in the southern region of the country, Bamur is situated on the hillside a few kilometres away from the junction of two rivers. With its elmwood rooftops, stone walls, and narrow cobblestone streets, Bamur has a charming atmosphere, with a touch of wonder.

The village square was quiet and peaceful before the day began bringing with it and an endless flow of shepherds, townsfolk, and farmers bargaining and gossiping beneath the watchful gaze of the mysterious clock tower that sat in the middle of town. 

No one remembers when it was built, as it seems to have always been there. It seemed abandoned but somehow the clock never required maintenance nor could anyone find a way of getting into it if need be. Made of smooth grey stone and nearly 27 meters high, the tower had 4 large clock faces, that matched up with the cardinal directions.  

In the square below there was an array of shops but none were more frequented than the bakery Chateau Dough ran by Monsieur Battier. Silver, short hair neatly coiffured to reveal a kind face. Bright brown eyes, large smile, and even larger beard gorgeously greet his patrons many of which he knows by name. 

He had inherited the bakery from his father and was the unofficial mayor of the town having an ear to the ground for all of the gossips of the town. His wife Caterina had died young leaving him to raise their daughter, Orian,  on his own.

With the help of his apprentice Albert and 3 other bakers, they satisfy the town’s collective sweet tooth. Every morning he would walk down the stairs from his rooms above the bakery and begin measuring the flour and taking delivery of eggs, milk, and sugar.  A few hours he would open the window and let the warm and inviting fragrance of Pain Au Chocolat, Canele, Macarons, Madeline, and their specialty Buttermilk Rolls tossed in a Brittany sage glaze waft through the streets of the town and unbeknownst to anyone else the sole occupant of the clock tower.

She sat by the window and breathed in the sweet smell as she did every morning.  Copper, shoulder-length locs reveals a fine, freckled face. Intense black eyes rooted within their sockets watch over the bakery with anticipation. From her spot, she waited for the bakery to open up. She was focused on a small table out front with a small white envelope on it. 

She had lived in this tower for longer than she could remember, but never felt alone. For years her world consisted of the old caretaker of the tower, a woman she called mamaw, and herself.  But she died a  few years ago and now the young woman takes care of the tower alone.

Before Mamaw’s death, the young woman had very little concern with the world outside her tower.  The stone walls of the tower had been lined with mahogany-paneled bookshelves holding Mamaw’s immense collection of books. 

But the books weren’t going anywhere and the young woman had been waiting for months for it to be warm enough for there to be outdoor seating again.  As the Sun illuminated the town square there was the slight ring of a bell as the baker’s daughter opened up the front door of the shop. She was about to head back in when something caught her eye.  The woman in the tower watched with bated breath as the baker’s daughter picked up the envelope and opened it.  She looked over it quickly and placed it in the front pocket of her apron before heading back into the bakery. 

The woman in the tower sighed before turning away from the window the slightest of smiles on her face.

[mbpendragon]

Tended Rose

Rosaceae is a planet of lush green forests powered by the magic that connects all living things. The inhabitants of the planet locally called the Garou, resemble Humans except for the distinct animal features. Some have the wings of birds,  while others have the ears and tails of rabbits. These animal traits are the direct result of the Ancient Ones, a group of Primal Spirits that take on the form of colossal animals who protect the natural balance of the planet. 

The year is 1890 and the forest is divided. Regions and governments have been erected and the lines of division have been drawn between the once harmonious forest.  The House of Harridan Controls the Western Forest, a Nobel family loyal to the White Stag.  The  House of Vondrak controls the Eastern Forest a power-hungry family loyal to the Silver Wolverine.  The House of Rivera controls the Northern Forest a family of Scholars loyal to Blue Owl.  Lastly the House of Moreau controls the Southern Forest a cunning family loyal to the  Gold Viper. 

A fifth territory remained unclaimed by Garou but rather dedicated and controlled by the Ancient Ones. They had receded to this expanse untouched where only a select few would even dare venture. 

Under the control of the four houses, the rest of the planet has been swallowed by the industrial revolution. Areas of open fields have been transformed into bustling cosmopolitan cities and steam engines carve through the forest. The rivers are dammed and diverted as bridges are constructed.  

North of the City of Harridan lies the Palace of the White Stag.  In the light of the full moon, the Palace looms over the land like a beacon. Eight slim, round towers reach twice the height of the next tallest building in this elegant castle and are connected by tall, solid walls made of light grey stone. Tall, wide windows are scattered generously around the walls in fairly symmetrical patterns. A large silver gate with tall white wooden doors and large crenelations guards the inhabitants of this hillside castle, but it's not the only way in, which fortunately only very few know. Lush fields of grass cover most of the land surrounding the palace adding to its charm and aesthetics. 

Tonight the castle is alive with guests as it was Prince Amiel’s coming-out party and all of the inhabitants of the Western Forrest had turned up in their finest wares to celebrate.  High in his tower, the prince was being fussed over by his many attendants. The two white antlers growing from his temples had been adorned with white opal teardrops. A  twisted circlet of silver crested his third eye. His short powder blue curls had been tamed by an obscene amount of gels and brushes into a slicked-back ocean of finger waves.  His pale hair contrasted with the warm almond of his skin and black of his large round eyes.  With a wave of his hand, the fussing of the staff stopped as he admired himself.  

He looked somewhere between a Christmas tree and frosted cupcake in his ensemble. He wore a pale pink shirt with a white and gold cravat.  He wore a white velvet jacket with gold embroidery and lace on the cuff of the sleeves. The jacket had a single set of silver buttons running down the front. The pants and boots were powder blue with the toe and heels of the boots being silver.  Amiel picked up the white masquerade mask by the handle and stood up from the vanity. He dismissed the staff as their work was done.  Looking at his reflection in the grand mirror he takes a moment to take it all in. Tonight his world changes forever. 

“Are you ready?” asked a familiar voice from behind him.  

“Yes”.

[mbpendragon]

The Day Runs You

“What do you think,” asks Captain Sidara Wren raising a cup of hot green tea to her lips. She had a boyish look with short messy purple hair and black undercut. Her face was angular with sunkissed skin.  Her deep-set eyes were a bright amber, watched the man across from her.  

Elior Saxe didn't look up from the faded scroll sprawled across the table.  It was a hand-illustrated map of the Andromeda Nebula on ancient parchment.  Elior was focused less on the map but on the notes in the margins. One phrase jumped out at him, “The Crown of Astoreth”.

 Legend said that whoever wore this crown would have the power of the stars at their command. Astronomical anthropologists believed that this weapon was one of the oldest weapons of its kind and possessed immeasurable power. Adventurers and marauders had spent lifetimes searching for it, but none had returned. 

Savoring the tea, Wren leans back in her chair to watch the skies outside her cabin. A nebula cloud glows softly to stern, casting the captain’s quarters in a warm greenish-gold light.  

“This is incredible.” remarked the curly-haired Elior still examining the map his voice alight with wonder. “Where did you say you found this?” 

“It came with the ship, what does that have to do with anything?”

 “Sid, this is unlike any star chart I have ever seen.” Smiled Elior finally looking at her for the first time since she had shown him the map. “ I’ve never seen anything this authentic outside the archives at the Academy.“ Elior replies finally looking up beneath a curtain of black and silver curls that hid part of his face. His large purple eyes glisten full of excitement.  

“Why do you think I showed it to you?”

“Because I’m the only person you trust to tell you if it’s authentic and crazy enough to go on this adventure with you.”

Wren set her now-empty teacup on the table before getting up to turn on the kettle again. 

“So you’re in?”

“Remember the day you crashed my graduation from the Academy?”

“Of Course. ” Sidara smiles carrying the second round of tea over to the table. “You were in the middle of your speech and I swung down on a rope from the deck of the Levant and asked you to leave everything behind to go on an adventure with me.”

“And I looked at you, grabbed the rope, and said... ” Elior was baiting Sid and she knew it. 

“From the nearest mountain ”

“To the farthest moon.”

“From the brightest star”

“To the darkest void ”

You are my captain, always and forever” they say in unison clasping the other’s forearms as Elior pulls her into a half hug.  

“Let’s make history.” Smiles Sid as Elior rubs her upper arm affectionately as they gaze into the receding abyss. Sidara leans her head on his shoulder a slight smile on her freckled face.

This is what they had been waiting for. They didn’t just want to be a group of marauders: they wanted to make history or better yet a difference in the world. 

The clock strikes midnight and the Levant of Ages is coasting quietly through space as Sidara Wren and Elior Saxe made their way up from the captain’s quarters up to the wheel of the ship. 

The Levant’s prow was gilded and ended with an ornately decorated spearhead. Three black masts rose high into the night with large sweeping white and gold triangular solar sails. The hull of the ship was decorated with ancient runes that dotted the cerulean hull like stars in the night sky.  She was a moderate-sized Solar Caravel and could outrun any ship on this side of the galaxy. Her upper decks are ornamental cherry wood giving the interior a rustic look to it. An emerald pennant decorated like the golden face of a clock flies from the mast.

Like a rooster, Elior’s voice rings out throughout the ship“WAKE UP YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING HEAP OF MISCRIENT!” bringing the ship and its crew to life.  “What are your orders Captain?”

“Lose all solar sails. Set our heading for Andromeda, Sector Vega, Tie-down the cannons and prepare the ship for hyperdrive.”  The orders are greeted with a resounding chorus of, “Aye Captain.” as the crew springs into action. 

Sidara watched the crew enact her orders with steely eyes, taking it all in. She had a slight frame and wore a long red overcoat. Underneath that she wore all black from her leather waistcoat to the linen shirt, pants, and knee-high riding boots.  Around her waist, she wore a red belt with a rapier hanging from one side and a pistol on the other. 

 Next to her stands an elegant Elior.  Dressed in a purple leather cropped jacket, black turtle neck, and grey skinny jeans with his cutlass and dueling pistol at his waist. 

“The Levant is ready” the Pilot remarks as the rest of the crew takes their positions across the ship.”

“Full speed now, if you please,” says Captain Wren with a smile at Elior. There is a roar from the fusion engine as the Tridium core ignites and the Levant of ages blasts off into the vast blackness of space.

Next Chapter

[mbpendragon]

Icarus

It was late October as I walked over the bridge that connected the residential side to the academic. The moon was high in the sky and the night air cool, dressed in just a leather jacket, skinny jeans and a t-shirt I shivered as I walked into the building. I continued down the short hallway and knocked on the door of room 3B. A familiar face opened the door and ushered me in.

“Hello Calvin”

“Jace,” replied the director as he shut the door behind me. Being the last to arrive he quickly introduced me to the other director and my fellow actors.

To my right, sat a boy with curly black hair, eyes a dark amber, and skin the color of toasted almonds, and a body built like a Greek statue. To top it off his name was Apollo, named after the Greek Sun God. He was charismatic and very aware of his own attractiveness and warmth.

So you can imagine my excitement when I realized I would have to kiss him on screen. The film we were starring in was about a night out between two couples. The twist was that Apollo’s character was trying to seduce mine while his counterpart Jess was trying to get my on-screen boyfriend Massimo to sign over the rights of some book for her publishing company.

The next few weeks passed in a wave of daydreams until the day of shooting arrived. The first few scenes went flawlessly though I forgot how long and tedious the process of making a movie is. Every line gets shot and reshot from multiple angles. It was exhausting. But soon it was the time for our scene.

They had turned the back alley of the space to resemble the outside area of the bar our characters had been drinking at. Leaning against the brick wall, Apollo lit a cigarette looking as charming as ever, and like a moth to the flame, he called me. I knew it was all acting, but it felt so real. He shone like the sun tempting my character to act on his carnal urges.

His words were a warm knife cutting through my defenses like butter, until my cues came, calling me to kiss him. His lips were soft and he tasted of cherry and cigarettes. I could feel his strong arms beneath his shirt as he pulled me against his chest pushing me against the brick wall before making his way down my neck. I almost wanted to kill the director when he called cut. We ran through the scene a few more times than for any non-touch deprived queer would have been enough. But not for me.

After the crew wrapped up for the night we found ourselves at a nearby bar, toasting the great day of shooting. But as I sipped on the blue long island in my hand I wanted nothing else but to be back in the sunlight. I wanted to feel the warmth of his light on his face as he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me with those soft lips that I craved. But that was never meant to be, for my Sun wound up going home with someone else.

I pushed my way to the bar swallowing my emotions as I signaled the bartender. I ordered the only cure for heartbreak I knew, a double shot of gold tequila. Minutes later, he placed the glass of pale gold liquid in front of me along with a salt shaker and lime wedge.

I closed out the tab before proceeding to shake salt onto the back of my left hand. With my right hand, I picked up the shot glass and raised it to the air and quoted the immortal words of Cristina Yang, “He is very dreamy but he is not the sun, you are.”

I proceeded to lick the salt, down the shot, and bite into the wedge of lime. The tequila burned all the way down reminding me of the fire that was inside me.“I am the Sun! And he can go Suck It!”

[mbpendragon]

Across the Platform

The platform was crowded, as it always was around quitting time. I ignored most of my fellow passengers for I knew where I wanted to be on the train. There is a spot about two thirds down the train where I would have the most optimal exit once I arrived at the Wood Island Stop. Reaching my position, I leaned against one of the support beams that held up the ceiling. If I had worn my headphones, I would never have noticed the man standing at my 7 o’clock.

I looked to check the time on the next train, my eyes scanning the crowd. The timing could not have been for more than an infinitesimal second. However, for a moment a pair of brown eyes framed by tortoise-patterned glasses caught my gaze. My heart skipped.

I looked to read the orange lettering and tried to find the owner of the tortoise-pattern glasses. I found him easily and I instantly turned away to ensure he would not catch me taking a second look. Being as bisexual as I am, living in a city has its perks. One of them being an absolute onslaught of attractive people of all sexes and gender identities. This guy was no exception.

He was tall with olive skin. His hair was like soft waves of chocolate gently brushing his broad shoulders. His entire aesthetic was Harry Styles meets early 90’s tech startup.

Arriving at the next station with his back to me, I finally was able to give his outfit; my full Tim Gun meets Sherlock Holmes Routine. He wore an olive green tee shirt, slim fitting black chinos rolled above the ankle, almond leather sandals and complimentary brown weaved leather belt. Like many of the passengers he wore a stylish grey backpack that most likely housed many of his possessions he was forced to chauffer between home and the office. But unlike many of the office passengers, His right nostril bore a small nose ring and the side of his foot was tattooed with a small glass of water that could symbolize his outlook on life as a glass half full kind of person.

He didn’t speak to anyone, absorbed by whatever was connected to traditional apple earbuds. With only a stop to go and a few people between us I silently hoped that he would be disembarking the train at the same station. As the train pulled into the station I looked in his direction hoping to catch a final glimpse of those brown eyes framed by square tortoise-pattern glasses. But he was nowhere to be found. I exited the train and collided into something solid catching the briefest whiff of cedar, rose, and jasmine. I stepped back to apologize to the person I had ran into and found myself face to face with the beautiful stranger. In this golden hour I would have mistaken him for a deity.

I tried to apologize but he hushed me with a kiss. His lips tracing the curvature of my neck, as hands seemed to massage my back as the drew circles over my clothes. My head tilted back in ecstasy as he bit down playfully. He whispered my name against my skin, his breath warm and inviting. His soft lips found mine again and in the heat of it all I fell to the tracks below.