Tag Archives: Sunday Snippet

Sunday Snippet, August 2, 2020

Switching gears to my Camp NaNoWriMo project.  Song and Sight is a sequel to Song and Sword (but true to form, I think there’s another book that has to come between the two of them. Someday I’ll write a series in order, but today is not that day.)

This is from the preface and is picking up from last week:

“And another thing,” Evisha went on, “I’d take all of their females and lock them away and start my own breeding program.”

Nisham nodded mindlessly. He’d heard all of this before too.

“And that traitor Sutag. I’d find a special torture for him. He has a daughter. Maybe I’d make her a breeder and make him watch.”

Another shiver ran through Nisham but Evisha didn’t notice, too caught up in her hatred to pay attention.

Not that she ever paid attention to him.

Nisham had been born in the breeder pens. He was supposed to be a half-breed, one of the half trolls that Zheh’athi used as shock troops, but he had been sired by one of the Drow slavers and had been born prematurely: weak and sickly he had been discarded, thrown out to die.  

Evisha had found him, and for reasons known only to herself, had taken him in and raised him, keeping him hidden from the guards that would have killed him as not being worth keeping or selling. Part of him was grateful, but he wished he knew why she had done it. She did nothing out of kindness, nothing without some sort of ulterior motive, nothing without some sort of gain for herself.

 

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Sunday Snippet, July 26, 2020

Switching gears to my Camp NaNoWriMo project.  Song and Sight is a sequel to Song and Sword (but true to form, I think there’s another book that has to come between the two of them. Someday I’ll write a series in order, but today is not that day.)

This is from the preface and is picking up from last week:

Evisha hated the Drow more than most in the pens. He wondered if that was because she was here instead of being a slave on one of the estates. He studied her as she ranted, turning that idea over in his mind. Physically she was beautiful, long dark hair dark eyes, a slender curvy figure. But her hair was tangled and matted and her eyes were cold and hard and filled with hatred and scorn. And her body had been used too much by too many. He frowned. Her body was probably why she had been brought to the breeding pens to begin with. 

Not that the trolls were overly particular as to what their mates looked like. As long as it was female, they would mate with it, and it didn’t matter if it was their own race or another, or if the female was willing or not. But the Drow slavers, they were a little pickier, and the prettier females were reserved for their use, kept from the breeding pens as long as they pleased them.

“And another thing,” Evisha went on, “I’d take all of their females and lock them away and start my own breeding program.”

 

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Sunday Snippet, July 19, 2020

Switching gears to my Camp NaNoWriMo project.  Song and Sight is a sequel to Song and Sword (but true to form, I think there’s another book that has to come between the two of them. Someday I’ll write a series in order, but today is not that day.)

This is from the preface and is picking up from last week:

“I – I said ‘freedom is coming,’” he stammered. 

Evisha frightened him. Yes, she had taken him in and given him a place to stay and enough food to stay alive, but she was cold and harsh, almost cruel even in her kindness. She was a shaman – or would have been if they were free to follow their old ways, but the Drow had outlawed them centuries ago.

“Freedom,” she snorted. “We’ll never be free as long as our so-called king is a pampered pet servant to the Drow.”

Nisham said nothing. He had heard her rant about Sutag many times before, how he was a slave at the Drow castle, how he had opportunity to kill the king and the crown prince, to lead a revolt and free their people. 

“If I was in his place they would all be dead and we would be the ones living in the castle with them serving us.”

Nisham wasn’t certain how the Drow would serve them if they were all dead, but he didn’t think it was wise to point out the flaw in her logic, so he tuned her out, half listening to a rant he knew all too well.

 

 

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Sunday Snippet, July 12, 2020

Switching gears to my Camp NaNoWriMo project.  Song and Sight is a sequel to Song and Sword (but true to form, I think there’s another book that has to come between the two of them. Someday I’ll write a series in order, but today is not that day.)

This is from the preface.

Nisham shivered and pulled the threadbare blanket more tightly around his thin body – not that it did any good. He was always cold, always hungry. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t.

The cavern was lit by a single candle that did little to dispel the darkness and nothing to dispel the dampness. He stared at it, not really seeing it, his mind wandering as he half dozed, sleep being the only escape he had from the Pens – and from the cold and hunger that were his perpetual companions.

“Freedom,” a voice whispered. “Freedom is coming.”

“Freedom is coming,” he replied and the sound of his own voice startled him into wakefulness.

“What did you say? Speak up, boy.”

This time his shiver had little to do with the cold.

 

 

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Sunday Snippet, June 28, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

Kendra watched him for a moment; his back was stiff and he was closed in on himself, his revelation seemed to have startled him as much as it did her. That would explain why he knew so much… she frowned, trying to piece together bits of information..

“We go?” Jopie asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. Veren’s statement seemed to have reassured him about going into the city – if Veren had lived in Shack Town and now lived in the city, then he could go there too.

“Yes, let’s go.” She turned and started after Veren, who was waiting for them at the top of the hill.

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

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Sunday Snippet, June 21, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

The City Guard doesn’t care much about ‘border skirmishes’ as long as they stay on the edges, but the people that live up there will attack if they see Shackers in their territory.”

“The more I learn about the city the more I like the wilds,” she muttered.

“Not from city?” Jopie asked. He had thought she seemed different…

“No,” Kestra replied. “I’m not from the city. I live in the Wilds.”

“Take me?” he pleaded, half reaching out to her.

“I was just waiting for you to ask,” she smiled, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched away, then relaxed at the gentleness of her hand. He’s been beaten, she thought, her heart falling.

As if reading her mind, Veren murmured softly, “People in Shack Town don’t talk to each other and don’t touch each other, unless it’s to fight or rape. It’s a culture of isolation and violence.”

“That must be lonely,” she murmured, and they both nodded. 

She glanced up at Veren, who shrugged. “I lived here for a while.” He said no more, merely turned and continued on his way up the hill. Even so, it was more than anyone else knew about him, except Gundrin.

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

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at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, June 14, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“Kendra. Veren.” He practiced their names, then looked at them, his brown eyes holding a glimmer of hope for the first time, then he looked up at the city and shook his head, fear returning. “No go there,” he said, breathing rapidly. “Bad.”

Kendra frowned, puzzled, and glanced at Veren to see if he understood, then reached out to see if she could sense anything, but everything here felt “bad” to her. 

“It’s all right,” Veren soothed. “You can go there. You’re with us.” Kendra looked up at him, more puzzled than before. “People from Shack Town don’t venture into the city much,” he explained. “Maybe raid the outskirts now and then, but that’s it. The City Guard doesn’t care much about ‘border skirmishes’ as long as they stay on the edges, but the people that live up there will attack if they see Shackers in their territory.”

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, June 7, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

They were at the foot of the hill that led up to the city proper. “Jopie,” a voice said suddenly, and they both turned to stare at the young ogre. “Jopie,” he repeated. “My name.”

Kendra smiled. “Thank you, Jopie. I’m glad to know you.”

Veren bowed. “An honor to meet you, Jopie. I am Veren.”

“Kendra. Veren.” He practiced their names, then looked at them, his brown eyes holding a glimmer of hope for the first time, then he looked up at the city and shook his head, fear returning. “No go there,” he said, breathing rapidly. “Bad.”

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, May 31, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“So why didn’t they just come after him directly?”

“If you ever have the misfortune of meeting those of the Temples you’ll understand.” He glanced down at her. “But I’m going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening.” He was vaguely surprised to realize that he meant it, that all thoughts of duty to his Masters at the Temple were gone. He smiled, suddenly feeling free for the first time in his life. No matter what happened, he would not trade this feeling for anything in the world.

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Sunday Snippet, May 24, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“What were those things that were attacking him? And what happened to them?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what they were; I’ve never encountered them before. As to what happened to them, I sent them away. Hopefully back to their home realm where they’ll be much happier.”

The boy rejoined them as she finished speaking, a small bundle clasped tightly in his arms. “Ready?” she asked, and he nodded, bringing a smile to her lips at the first real communication from him.

“A better question,” she said as they started back toward the street, “is why they were attacking him.”

“You said it yourself,” Veren said. “He’s a Shaman. He has power. The Temples don’t like what they can’t control.”

“So why didn’t they just come after him directly?”

 

An overly long blurb:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

2 Comments

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