So last week, I finished up a sort of writing experiment I called “Darkshire Woods: The Heir.” As I explained in the first post, this was my attempt to write a story slightly out of my comfort zone. Using the game mechanics of Fiasco, I had to come up with…
She had no idea how things had gone so wrong. Edrys reviewed the events of the past day in her mind, trying to find the one loose thread, the one moment when it all came apart in her hands. Was it when King Maxillian arrived? Or when Smythe offered to…
When someone started pounding at his chamber door in the early morning, Smythe was already awake and dressed. He hadn’t been able to sleep, not even for an instant. Part of that was due to the sheer amount of arrangements that he had to make. He kept Healey running for…
Azebel could scarcely believe it. After years of patient waiting, the old fool was finally going to die. Yes, she wasn’t thrilled with the methodology. Using poison felt gauche, to say the least, but the opportunity was simply too good to pass up. With Edrys Fanella finally exposed as the…
The guards had cleared out the ballroom at Maxillian’s insistence. As a matter of fact, Bartholomew’s good friend had pretty much taken charge the moment Azebel made her accusation. He had calmed the guests, shooed them all out of the room, and ordered the guards to clap the boy in…
Edrys scanned the dresses in her closet and idly wondered which one would look best at an execution. More specifically, which one would look best on her if she were killed for her deception. As the banquet with the King of Seviel loomed over her, an unfamiliar sensation built in…
So what could Smythe get of Edrys’s that would help in Azebel’s spell? She had said it had be something from her, like hair or saliva. How could he get that? Bribe one of her chambermaids? That was possible; most of the servants in the palace respected and feared him.…
Gerard was dead. Azebel could scarcely believe it. He had seemed as permanent as the castle itself, a fixture that would be passed down from regent to regent. She had even thought that he would continue to work for Vance and her when they assumed control of the kingdom. She…
“Your Majesty?” Someone shook Bartholomew’s arm gently, their touch so light he thought he dreamed it. He grumbled, trying to burrow deeper under the covers. He knew that it was still night, the darkness wrapped around him tighter than any blanket. There was no crisis, no issue that required his…
Okay, so I took a little time off from writing “The Heir.” Part of that was just to catch my breath. Part of it was…well, real life intrusions. But it’s also because it’s time for the Tilt! For those of you unfamiliar with the Fiasco RPG rules, at the halfway…