City of IF

[Thracia Alba]

"The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever"

Chapter Three: In Which Fifth Wall is Shamelessly Broken


Great was the rejoicing in the land of Edra that year, for the War of the Kings was finally over, and peace reigned over the land once more. It was then late autumn, and winter was already stretching out its icy fingertips to caress the newly-reunified kingdoms. It would be a cold winter, but within the hall of High King Dras it was boisterous and joyful, and the mead overflowed like the river Udha in spring. Dras surveyed his celebrating warriors with satisfaction and turned to Earl Gradakk, his brother. "Is it not great," he shouted, for the mead had made his heart merry and his senses blurred, "that Jaras has carried us to such a victory?"

"Truly, Brother," Gradakk replied, "our deeds will be sung for generations to come."

The king's eyes misted over for a moment. "Once more Edra can flourish," he continued. "Our children can grow and prosper. Men can put down their swords at last and take up the tools of their trades, living their lives in peace and contentment."

Gradakk smiled oddly. "We shall see, brother, once Edra has a suitable High King."

Dras looked puzzled, befuddled as his drink had made him. "What do you mean, Gradakk? I am the High King."

His brother gazed across the hall thoughtfully. "Oh, you were a great leader in battle, to be sure. But this peace you are proposing, well, let's just say that not all men are content to forsake glory for the plough."

A deathly silence had fallen. Dras looked up in confusion at the two score warriors who had ceased their merriment and were now facing him, swords drawn, bloodlust written in their eyes. Understanding suddenly dawned upon the High King. "Brother," he said weakly, "you mean to betray me?"

"It may have been my idea, but you can see for yourself how immensely popular it's been." He sneered. "Your new peace could never have worked, Dras. Our blood would thin. We would grow weak and become like women. There would be no more songs in our honor. It is unfortunate that it has to end this way for you," he taunted, "but it was unavoidable, really. I do hope you understand."

Dras snarled. "I understand this, brother, that you are nothing but a turncoat and a coward! You are not worthy to bear the crown of Edra!"

"Enough!" roared Gradakk, his face crimson with rage and shame, and he struck Dras about the head. "Seize him and take him out of here! Bind him in chains and have his eyes put out, and then throw him in the river Udha for the fish to feast upon!"

Heavy hands fell upon Dras and though he fought as he never had before, still more hands came and dragged him from his place of honor. "This betrayal will not go unavenged!" he bellowed. "Treacherous dogs! You will be--" but another blow about the head silenced him, and Dras the Valiant, the rightful High King over all of Edra, was dragged out of the hall like a slave into the dark, cold night.

But meanwhile, at a little inn somewhere in the rural outskirts of Niphti, something far more interesting was happening.

Coriander danced frantically on his toes. Oh, quests weren't supposed to go like this, not when the questing party hadn't even been assembled yet! And it had been going so well, what with the new companion and the kidnapped princess, just like something out of a storybook. But time was a-wasting; there wasn't much time for a re-cap, and there definitely wasn't time for careful consideration in matters concerning life and death. Coriander shook himself roughly. "What am I thinking?" he shouted to the now-empty room. "Of course I have to try to save that girl! She's my questing partner!" In a flash the young adventurer was dashing toward the smoky staircase, though he paused for a moment when he found a nearly-full bottle of water that someone had left lying on a table. Well, it looked like water, anyway, though it didn't smell much like water. But there wasn't enough time for analysis, and liquid was liquid, even if it smelled funny. He snatched up the bottle and resumed his frantic pace, reaching the rickety steps and taking them three at a time.

"Um, partner! Partner!" Coriander shouted at the top of his lungs. He was in a narrow hallway that was burning away merrily. There were doors lining the left side of the hall, one of which was within reach, but the room beyond was empty. He turned back to the burning hall in disgust. An unfortunate side-effect of fire is smoke, and this smoke was thick and black and made it very difficult to breathe. Why did fires have do be so darn inconvenient? He couldn't tell if there was anyone up here, let alone the strange girl from the tavern. Suddenly he remembered his bottle of water-like liquid, and grinned at his own cleverness. This ought to clear a few things out! With a great, dramatic sweep, Coriander raised the bottle, aimed it at one of the larger tongues of flame that was blocking his path, threw with all his might, and--

FWOOSH!!

The subsequent fireball sent him reeling backward and through the forgotten door, stumbling into the empty room. A window on the far wall was open and he rushed to it, sticking his head out and greedily gulping in the cool night air. "Oh, no! Not you again!" a voice rasped from below. Coriander jumped in surprise and hit his head on the top of the window frame. Then he looked down and gasped.

"Partner?!" he exclaimed, amazed, for not two feet below him, dangling from a rope he only then noticed was tied to a bedpost, was the woman who had agreed join his quest, only now she was dressed in a nightgown and looking as if someone had slapped her in the face with a fish. "What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be long gone by now!"

"Not without my questing party. I'm rescuing you!"

She looked at the rope in her hands, and then up at Coriander in the room that was rapidly filling with smoke. "So I see," she sighed. "Well, I'm okay now, so you can consider it a job well done!"

For the second time that evening, timbers above Coriander's head creaked ominously. "Uh, any chance I can use that rope when you're done with it?" he asked nervously.

The girl seemed to consider this for a moment. "No, it looks like the whole second floor is going to cave any second now. I don't think you'll have time. I'm already pressed for time as it is. No," she concluded, "you're going to have to jump."

"What?!" cried the youth. "Jump? From the second story?"

"There's a nice pile of compost below. I think it could break your fall."

"Forget it! I'm not jumping! Wait, what are you doing?!" His potential questing partner had reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"This," she said, and pulled.

---

"Public relations officer Cleothestrina, do you know why you've been called here today?"

Cleo sighed. "No, but I can imagine it's probably not for coffee."

"Cheeky girl," muttered Gossamer, the Vice Head of the High Council. She never liked having to step in for Magden, which wasn't often but was annoying enough when it happened. She was perfectly content with her normal job as Vice Head, casting the tie-breaking vote in Senate and-- no, wait, wrong government. But whatever her job was, she enjoyed it, and she considered any dealings with the grunts a waste of her valuable time. Not that she had any trouble dealing with them, of course; at ten inches tall she still managed to tower over all who opposed her and most who didn't. And now, seated at the raised dais with the rest of the High Council all around her, Gossamer the fairy was especially intimidating. "I have no times for games, Cleo, so let's get to the point," she began in an inky voice that made Cleo's teeth itch. It was the same kind of voice the teacher uses to call you to the chalkboard when you don't know the answer and have been daydreaming about your idea for a hands-free CD walkman throughout the entire class period. You know, that voice. She continued. "Do you recall a certain delivery you made to the hill-towns of Thermosa nearly nineteen years ago?"

Cleo felt her blood run cold. So they had finally found out, and no statute of limitations was going to help her out of this one; she'd have to think of a brilliant lie. "Um... No?" Yes, that would do.

"Nice try, Cleo, but I happen to know that elves have impeccable memories."

She started to sweat. "What if I told you my paternal grandfather was a troll? They have lousy memories." It was true. The average troll was so forgetful that if one ever attacked you, all you'd have to do was hold it off long enough for it to forget why it was fighting in the first place. Then you'd take advantage of the confused pause to hoof it out of there. And how do you think all those abandoned chests of treasure got in those dungeons in the first place, huh?

But Gossamer only shook her head impatiently. "It's biologically impossible for members of two different species to produce fertile offspring. You know that as well as I do." At that moment, every fantasy and science fiction writer in the universe shifted uncomfortably in his or her seat. "Anyway, stop stalling. We all know you lied about Croquette not receiving the love potion."

Cleo made a strange noise that sounded like something between a grunt and a raspberry. "'Love potion' my foot! That was just some stinking toilette water and you know it!" Cleo wasn't sure what came over her. Maybe it was the looming, inevitable disaster. Yes, that must have been it.

The Vice Head twitched her nose in annoyance. "I don't recall you ever holding the position of product inspector. The point is that thanks to our product a future queen was produced, and thanks to your deception a major problem was produced."

"Problem? I don't see how it made any difference. Croquette never did have a son, so you don't collect."

"Well, that's just the problem, isn't it?" Gossamer sighed wearily at the blank look she received. This wasn't going to be easy; for the first time in her life, the fairy felt ever so slightly embarrassed. "I supposed you've noticed Council Head Magden's absence."

"Notice it? I was enjoying it."

Gossamer let that little comment slide for the time being. "It became apparent that something was amiss yesterday at four o' clock, when Magden failed to attend the weekly board meeting." She narrowed her eyes over her spectacles. "Magden never misses a board meeting. Naturally I assumed she must be either dead or very near death," she continued, "so I sent one of you grunts up to check. Instead of the body I was expecting, however, it was discovered that Magden had mysteriously vanished, leaving nothing but some hastily-scrawled notes. And do you know what they said?"

"Let me guess: She found out from Princess Croquette that I had lied about the delivery."

"No, actually, she only wrote that she suspected as much. You, however, have confirmed it."

"Dang."

"Quite. There was one other thing, though," she said gravely. "Magden suspected that there was more to the story than your silly lie. She suspected that Croquette did, in fact, have a son." The appropriate, shocked gasps and murmurs arose from the Council.

Cleo scratched her head thoughtfully. "But when? In secret? The pregnancy of a princess isn't exactly something that's easily hideable."

"It was Magden's suspicion that Croquette didn't hide her pregnancy, and that she did indeed have a son-- nearly eighteen years ago."

"Oh... Then she had twins?"

Gossamer made a small, frustrated noise and banged her minuscule fist against the leg of her little chair. "Do I need to spell this out for you? Okay, Kristelle = Boy under spell to make him appear to be a girl. Got it? Do I need to go into any more specifics?"

The rest of the Council, which was only really there for the dramatic effect, gasped in shock, etc. etc. But Cleo only looked more confused. "That doesn't make any sense, though. Wasn't Magden herself at the birth? She would know if Kristelle was a boy or not."

"And whose testimony do we have for that? The prince and princess who've been lying to us? A senile old midwife? A magician who turned out to be a princess-snatcher, or perhaps a prince-snatcher?"

"But Magden told everyone that--"

"Do not question the wisdom of the Council!" Gossamer wasn't sure what it was, but something about this grunt put her all in a twist. She was like an annoying little gnat that didn't know it was supposed to die when smacked with a newspaper. Who was she to point out obvious plot holes... er, to question the Council so? Gossamer shook her head; where had that thought come from? No matter. "Look here, I should have you locked away in some God-forsaken dungeon for the rest of your eternal life--"

"For lying in a report?"

"For being unnecessarily annoying. But you are our most experienced field worker, being the one who's survived longest."

"Thanks... I think."

"So you could prove useful to us," Gossamer continued with a sadistic little grin. "Your new assignment, which will redeem you, will be to retrieve the princess, er, prince, and bring him back to the Council so we can determine whether he is a he or she. ¿Sí?"

"That was unnecessary."

"Quite. So, are we going to do this the easy way, or the fun way?" Gossamer's grin was reminiscent of something that waited in the shallows for clumsy swimmers.

Cleo sighed for the five-thousandth, eight-hundredth, fifty-first time of her life. It wouldn't be the last time. "It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice, now do I?"

"That's my girl."

---

Meanwhile, about twenty-five miles or forty kilometers away, in a clearing in the middle of a dark and mysterious forest, a dark and mysterious tower loomed threateningly. Of course, nearly all towers loom threateningly, so it's not as if this one was anything to write home about. In fact, this tower was pretty much as garden-variety as they come. It was round and tall, and it was built of a dark gray stone. It had no windows except for a little domed number towards the top. Outside, a bored-looking dragon was thumbing through a somewhat charred coffee-table book that contained photographs of the English countryside. He was gazing at a picture of a hill covered in fluffy white sheep and licking his chops longingly. An iron collar around the serpentine neck was attached to a long chain that was in turn attached to a stake that was embedded in the side of the tower. It was held there either by strong magic or deep faith, or perhaps both.

Let us leave this charming scene and zoom into the tower itself, into a dark chamber deep within. It was a small room, containing only a bed, a desk, and a chair. A solitary candle flickered away on the desk, providing more shadows than light. It was sufficiently gloomy and would do for the time being. A sudden knock on the heavy oak door filled every crevice of the room with its resounding echo, or something to that effect. "Enter" a deep voice slithered from somewhere within the room. The door creaked open and light flooded the room, revealing a tall, skinny figure standing off in a corner. He was leaning against the wall and gazing off into space, scratching his seedy little goatee thoughtfully. You might remember him from the last chapter if you were paying any attention, though I certainly couldn't blame you if you weren't.

"Uh, master?" a slimy voice inquired. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"Hush, Toad!" the man snapped. "I've been brooding."

"About what, master?"

"About this lackluster chapter so far," he said mournfully. "It's not up to the usual standard at all. It's as if the author just doesn't have her heart into it this time. And all those subordinate clauses!"

The lackey, a green-skinned little man who looked like the bastard child of a fish and a monkey, looked at his master quizzically. "What do you mean master?"

Wictred shook his head as if waking up from a daydream. "What?"

"You said something about Klaus being insubordinate, master."

"Klaus? Insubordinate? Well, arrange an appropriate punishment for him, then."

Toad rubbed his webbed hands together gleefully. "Certainly, master!"

Wictred wrinkled his nose in distaste at his greenish minion. Toadies were so inconvenient, but there was nothing to be done for it; it was simply one of the necessary downsides of being an evil court adviser, just as astronauts have to wear cumbersome suits, just as community college students live and die at the whims of embittered professors. "So, I take it no princes have R.S.V.P.ed our little party yet?"

"No, master."

"Good, good." Wictred pressed his fingertips together in a truly diabolical manner. "Princess Kristelle's reputation serves us well."

"In what way, master?"

Wictred glanced his way sharply. "We went all over this before, Toad."

"But the readers don't know, master."

"What's that?"

"What's what, master?"

"Nothing. I must be hearing things." The magician shook his head again as if to clear it. "Anyway, if I must spell it out to you again, Prince Goosegrass and Princess Croquette have entrusted their daughter to me, that I may lure some unlucky prince or hero to our little hideout, in the hopes that one of them may succeed in saving her and becoming her husband. Any man who saves the princess from the dragon must marry her, by an unbreakable magical contract."

"Yes, master, but how does this work in your favor?"

"All in good time, my dim-witted lackey. You see, because of her miserable reputation, no man in his right mind will attempt to rescue Princess Kristelle, not even for a kingdom. In the meantime, we have a dragon on our hands, a highly magical and unstable creature. It would be a pity if, ah, something unfortunate happened, and he somehow broke his chains." Wictred's grin was truly evil, which was only to be expected. "In that case, I might be forced to step in and save the princess myself. It would mean I would have to marry her, of course, but what else could I have done in such circumstances?" He shrugged sarcastically.

"A brilliant plan, master, but how will you possibly survive a marriage to Princess Kristelle?"

He shrugged again. "It's the middle ages, or at least the fantasy equivalent thereof. Medical technology is restricted to philosophy, folk remedies, and the thousand-year-old discoveries of long-dead Greek physicians. If some terrible, mysterious illness were to befall the princess, well, there would be nothing anyone could do. And I would be left with the terrible burden of governing the Niphti kingdom on my own."

Toad bounced up and down gleefully, slapping his moist hands together. "Wonderful, master, wonderful!" He simply adored any plan involving treachery and murder, as any proper toady would. "There remains one concern, though, master: what will you do if, well, one of those arrive before your brilliant plan works out?"

"You mean a bumbling-but-purehearted youth? I don't think so. Those were all hunted to extinction centuries ago." Wictred sneezed violently. Goodness, he hoped he wasn't coming down with something.

---

"Hey, did you know that magicians are allergic to dramatic irony?"

The young woman gave Coriander a look that said many things, none of them very nice. "What are you talking about?"

"I read it in a book once. Don't know what made me think of it, though." The two of them had been walking along a dirt road since early morning, and it was now about an hour past noon. The fire that they had only narrowly escaped had burned down the whole inn, but this is supposed to be a happy story, so let's say no one was hurt and the owner had a very good insurance policy, mmkay? Coriander looked at his questing companion thoughtfully. "Hey, I never did catch your name, and I can't keep referring to you as 'partner' or 'you', now can I?"

"I honestly don't care what you call me, as I don't intend to be staying with you long enough to become that acquainted. But for the sake of convenience, my name is Gemma."

"Ah, Gemma, like a jewel of great value?"

"No, Gemma like my great-aunt who collected peach pits."

"Oh," Coriander answered with a tinge of disappointment. He fished around for something to fill the awkward silence. "So, um, do you know what started that fire?"

Gemma frowned thoughtfully. "Not sure. I do remember hearing someone scuttle about in the hallway, mumbling something about 'plot devices', whatever that means. A few minutes later came the explosion. I don't know if that had anything to do with it."

Coriander pouted a bit. "Whatever caused the fire, I'm not sure it was entirely necessary for you to pull me out the window. I'll never get the smell of that compost out!"

She examined her fingers innocently. "Well, it was unfortunate that I saved your life, then. I should have let you die with dignity amid the burning remains of the second story of the inn."

"I never thought of it that way," he said with a slight frown. "Thanks, I guess." He thought for a while. "Come to think of it, that was a rather unconvincing fire. I couldn't tell if it was a raging inferno or a few scattered flames. It was as if I were in some story written by a person who hadn't a clue about house fires, but hoped to distract the reader with big explosions and wordy sentences."

"Well, I suppose there had to be a decision point at some time. After all, the chapter was getting awfully long."

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?"

"Never mind, I must be hearing things." There was a period of silence that Gemma was infinitely grateful for, and which Coriander, of course, had to break. "So when are we gonna get to that J'naeric forest those heroes were talking about?"

Gemma sighed in frustration. "We'll get there when we get there. Which," she added, "is right about now."

Coriander looked up in surprise. Where only a few minutes ago had stretched out endless miles of field now stood the outskirts of a great, looming forest. "Well, that was abrupt," he commented softly. The road they were following led directly into the forest, but not before it was rudely interrupted by a toll booth. Within the booth sat a bored-looking J'naeric elf who was perusing a worn paperback entitled, Rings of Power and You: 10 Steps to a More Powerful, Dynamic, and Soulless Overlordship. Coriander approached him in what he hoped was a friendly and trustworthy manner, but of course wasn't. "Excuse me, my good man," he said.

"Elf."

"What?"

"I'm an elf. A J'naeric elf."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You seem pretty nifty to me."

"Actually, I've never been there."

"What?"

The elf sighed. "Toll is five copper," he said.

Gemma snorted in disgust. "Since when have the J'naeric elves charged admittance to their little spider-infested matchstick pile?"

"Since Wictred took the princess to his tower in the forest. King Timberweald figured he could capitalize off the droves of eager adventurers, but, as you can see..." he gestured around their decidedly droveless surroundings.

Coriander's ears had taken the opportunity to use their veto power on everything else the elf had said, though. "Wow, you know about the princess? Where's the tower? Where is she?"

"Just follow the path through the woods. It'll take you about five miles west, weave around a bit to the northeast to avoid some particularly nasty troll caves, curve out of the way of the Lake of Sorrows, and finally do a couple loop-de-loops until you reach the tower itself. The trip should take about a day and a half if you don't stop to rest."

"A day and a half!" Coriander exclaimed indignantly. "I can't wait that long! How far away is the tower itself?"

The elf scratched his chin. "Well, about a mile if you go in a straight line, but I really don't suggest--"

"Wonderful! So we'll just go straight on through!"

Gemma gritted her teeth. "No, you're an idiot, you're crazy. Didn't you hear what I said earlier?"

"..." Coriander replied thoughtfully.

"Those woods are infested with spiders!"

Coriander grinned smugly. "I can understand if you're afraid of spiders, Gemma, most girls are..."

"Giant spiders, you moron! And trolls, and ghouls, and imps, and who knows how many other nasty creatures lurk in there!" She growled in frustration. "Look, if fate has some insane grudge against me, fine. If I've been assigned to babysit you to make up for some horrible sin I committed, fine. But I will not follow you in through the thick of the most dangerous woods in the world. We'll take the path together, or you can follow your ridiculous whims on your own."

"But you're my questing companion!" Coriander whined.

"Not by choice, I assure you. So what will it be?"

---

Oh, my! What will happen next? Will Coriander choose the path of excitement and almost certain death, or will he submit to sanity and take the road more traveled by? Will that make all the difference? Will the author ever stop making self-indulgent self-references? Find out on the next episode of THE GREATEST FANTASY STORY EVER!

[Smee]

Great chapter.

I don't know why the author references amuse me so much - but they do :D

After the 'inconvenient' fire I think he's going to listen to reason here. Gemma is his adventuring partner and you should listen to advice from adventuring partners. If the woods are as dangerous as they sound then I'm sure they'll come across enough 'adventure' sticking to the path.

Keep it coming.

Happy Writing :D

[Shady Stoat]

Another good chapter Thracia. I especially liked the allergy to dramatic irony! *sneeze!*

Now, what will Coriander do?

Simple. He'll lie. Take 'Gemma' with him into the forest, start off by going the wrong route, then take the short cut once she's committed to accompanying him.

Just because he's stupid, doesn't mean he's not sly as well ;)

[Chinaren]

Excellent chapter T.Alba! :D

Well, I say take the scenic route with Gemma, so he can 'get to know her' better and start the 'romance' scenes. ;) Plus I don't like spiders. :-o

[LordoftheNight]

i agree with shady, lie about it

[Thracia Alba]

Chapter three poll is up. :)

Oh, and for the second option, "pack" should be "path". Darn typos. The site won't let me edit it, either.

[LordoftheNight]

sneaky does it

voted, and winning

[Solomon Birch]

Well, I'm glad that I stumbled across this gem of a story Thracia, truly hilarious stuff! :lol:

Very publishable (much funnier than most of the 'funny' stuff out there) and its clever funny too, which is even rarer! (I know 'clever funny' isn't very clever, but..... darn... I've done it again...) :D

Now, I think we need some romanticising to get going, so I'm opting for the scenic route with moonlit (and spiderweb-laden) treetops and romantic (and deadly) swing chairs. :P

Great stuff, and I want more!

*holds breath* :shock:

Edit: And, whoops, created a toe... *sheepish grin* ;)

I mean TIE! :?

[LordoftheNight]

a toe? dear god man, what have you done?

[Solomon Birch]

ROFL!! :lol: :D :lol:

Whoops! I meant tie... ;) :P

[Thracia Alba]

Many thanks to Shady Stoat for nominating The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever for Storygame of the Month, and just as many thanks to Solomon Birch for seconding! I am overwhelmed with blushiness (and yes, "blushiness" is a word. Just look it up in the Becktionary)! I don't deserve the honor of a nomination, but I enjoy having it nonetheless! :biggrin: Gemma, Cleo, Coriander and the rest would extend their thanks as well, but they aren't real.

Sorry for the long delay in getting up chapter four; school, homework, and real-life duties have, sadly, taken a chunk out of my writing time. I have the chapter mostly mapped out in my head, though, and hope to have it written and posted sometime before Friday. Fingers crossed, eh?

[Shady Stoat]

You're welcome!

*crosses paws* ;)

[Solomon Birch]

Hey, no probs Thracia! And you do deserve a nomination; it's a really well written story! :D

*holds breath* :shock:

[Stubby]

Great story - though I did get a bit confoozled in places following it :confused:

Love the writing style though!

Vote voted.

Edited for bed spalling.

[Thracia Alba]

In what ways were you confused? I'd like to know so I can avoid confusing people in the future. Thanks! :D

Edit: A tie! Looks like I've got some editing to do!

[Stubby]

Oh it is probably just me - I may not be the sharpest pencil in the case :)

The only place that really threw me is when Coriander went into the tavern and saw Gemma alone at a table, I kind of assumed that it was Cleothestrina, and her general attitude didn't disuade me from that for quite a while, which lefe me a little puzzled for a time. So possibly if you could characterise the two female leads a little more distinctly (unless there is good reason for them to be alike, of course).

Other than that, it is just that there are several threads being told, and that's more than one, and maybe I'm just easily confoozled *grin*

Still looking forward to your next chapter though :)

[Smee]

Stubby wrote:
The only place that really threw me is when Coriander went into the tavern and saw Gemma alone at a table, I kind of assumed that it was Cleothestrina, and her general attitude didn't disuade me from that for quite a while, which lefe me a little puzzled for a time.

Yeah - that got me too. It kinda fitted Cleo, and still made me chuckle.

Maybe you do have plans for such similarities.

[Sorrow_A]

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Yes, I think we should go through the straight path and most possibly die, and be sneaky about it.

Not that that changes anything.

[Stubby]

Ah, but if you are going to quote Robert Frost as a reason to go straight through on the path less trodden, then...

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


So I say stick to your commitments *grin* and have a snowball fight! Sorry? What? That wasn't an option? Oh... ah well.

[Thracia Alba]

Stubby wrote:
The only place that really threw me is when Coriander went into the tavern and saw Gemma alone at a table, I kind of assumed that it was Cleothestrina, and her general attitude didn't disuade me from that for quite a while, which lefe me a little puzzled for a time. So possibly if you could characterise the two female leads a little more distinctly (unless there is good reason for them to be alike, of course).


Ah, I see the source of your confusion. I had hoped the physical description would set Gemma apart from Cleo, but perhaps I didn't handle that well enough. Yes, there is a reason the two of them act somewhat similar (and it's definitely NOT due to poor writing skills, nosiree), a reason I hope to address in chapter four. Let's just say the two of them have shared similar experiences in the past.

I tell you guys, writing chapter four has been like pulling teeth. My own teeth. I got about half of the way through before I realized I had skipped a HUGE plot point that needed addressing, so now I have a lot of editing to do. I might just start over again. In any case, it's not coming along as quickly or easily as I had anticipated. So sorry! :(

[Smee]

Awwwww do not worry :)

We'll be patiently waiting. The only person I worry about is breath-holding boy, but with a few pokes he'll take another lung-full and be ok for a week or two.

Happy Writing. :)

[Shady Stoat]

*wry grin* We all get chapters like that, Thrace. Just plug away, you'll get there. It's not like you've got a stopwatch on you :D

*gives Soily a quick poke*

[ethereal_fauna]

As everyone's said, no rush. :D

[Solomon Birch]

*turns blue, then purple...* :shock:

*green...) :-o

*gasp* 'urry up... :?

*holds breath* :shock: ©

[Chinaren]

Well, I'm back, and I am not patient, oh no. Come on! Quick quick!

*Taps foot impatiently* ;)

[Thracia Alba]

Gaah! So sorry, Master Chinaren! *types furiously* Please forgive me! My back still hurts from the last whipping! *sobs*

[Chinaren]

That's more like it. ;)

[Solomon Birch]

Whipping.....?! * :shock: *

[Chinaren]

Give them an inch and they take a mile. Best nip any laziness in the bud. :-o

[dragon_fire372]

This is such a great story, no wonder it was nominated for SGotM! I can't wait for the next chapter. o-)

Ah crap, I tied it up! I'm sorry! <hides in a corner wailing>

[Kalanna Rai]

China quite whipping the Roman or do you want me to suddenly do something rash...

Also T.Alba have you read Blue Moon Rising? If not you should it's similar to your story in a few ways and might give you some ideas...

[Thracia Alba]

Blue Moon Rising? Never heard of it. Sounds interesting, though. Thanks for telling me about it! :D

Anyway, I'm feeling much better after finally taking the sissy way out with antibiotics, and I might just get the chapter written and posted before the end of the century. You never know. And Soily, for the love of all that's holy, take a breath! :shock:

[Chinaren]

I think I have read BMrising. Something like that anyway. Who wrote it?

[Ravenwing]

*laughs out loud* Absolutely hilarious, Thracia. A bit on the longish side, but the humor keeps the audience in. You got to take the dangerous route. Gemma's comments are keeping me laughing with her attempts to reason with Coriander. :cool:

Actually I am waiting to see the phrase, "See? I told you so."

[Thracia Alba]

You got it, then! ;)

[Ravenwing]

I will be watching for that sentence then. :cool:

[Thracia Alba]

And so you shall have it. And soon, if my creative streak keeps up (though it might die out again after my algebra class has its way with me :( ).

Actually, if anyone would like to visit the glorious kingdom of Niphti, just mosey on over to www.nationstates.net , click the link that says, "The World", scroll to the bottom and where it says, "Find Nation", type in "Niphti". I wish I could provide a direct link, but for some reason I can't get one.

[LordoftheNight]

That link won't work - you want This one.

[Thracia Alba]

Of course, how stupid of me! The automatic link thing included the comma! *goes to fix this*

Okay, now it should work. Thanks, lordofthenight! :D

[Ravenwing]

LOL. I took a look at you nation, Thracia. Or should I say its a nation full of chickens. I do wonder, what do those chickens worship since it seems to a nation focused on religion and spirtuality. Well demented, rebellious chickens that steal feed from each other with the high crime rate. *laughs*