The Write Stuff - NKOTB tribute thread - The Bear and Badger

tigersgogrrr

That's your heart when I pull it out for being an unbeliever.

Stopharage

Just knocked your rating down by a further star, you scallywag.

tigersgogrrr

YOU SWINE.

122 copies downloaded. I dare say far fewer have even gone as far as opening the file, but what can you do?

Looking forward to half term, getting a bit of a breather, and actually being able to find he energy to do some writing about monsters or something.

tigersgogrrr

Huge thanks to Stoph for giving a nice review. Too kind.

Story ended up being download 199 times. 7 sales in total, which is far better than I expected to be honest. I've actually had a writing binge today and managed to put down 4,800 word short story (about monsters woo). Blimey! Far greater than my usual writing output. I'm actually really quite happy with the first 3/4, though I fear I've rushed the end and not made it as satisfactory as I would like. If anyone is interested in a read to help a tiger out, a PM or post on here would be welcomed.

Hope some of you are finding the time and energy to write as well. Hugely enjoyable when you're in the mood.

Tempy

I'm pretty sure you've got my email so you can always feel free to sling me stuff, just don't be offended if I don't have the time to read it due to uni.

Stopharage

Tiger, feel free to PM me anything you want someone to give the once-over to.

Do think all badgers should give your Amazon story a go. An enjoyable 15 minute read worthy of anyone's time.

tigersgogrrr

Very kind, guys.

I'll ping an e-mail to you both. Trying to iron out the ending, and I'm not sure what I'm trying to do is working at all, but thoughts would be useful.

tigersgogrrr

NANOWRIMO STARTS TOMORROW.

Can I do it? Do I have the mental strength and fortitude and balls of steel required? Let's find out.

tigersgogrrr

n.m

Spock

@tiger. Just read your mothgate story; very nice work indeed!

tigersgogrrr

Oh, thank you. Very kind. Glad you enjoyed it.

Just deleted the link in a fit of self hatred, hah. You've cheered me up no end.

Spock

Yeah I wondered about that! Stick it back up! @otherbadgers - defo well worth a read- imagine a mash up of the spook's apprentice and the movie primer, that's also an obvious allegory for the 90s east/west coast rap feud...well, everything but that last thing.

tigersgogrrr

It's here.

Again, very kind. Just had a rather unpleasant experience on a writing forum - Absolute Write, won't be going back there again - so that's just the pick me up I needed.

Cover by our own inimitable HEAVOODOOOO.

tigersgogrrr

THIS IS THE YEAR I FINISH *THE NOVEL*.

WHO IS WITH ME?

Chief

ME!

THIS IS THE YEAR I GET SOMETHING PUBLISHED.

tigersgogrrr

Something I've been writing over the last two evenings. Might have some inconsistencies. Not quite finished, sitting at just under 1500 words. Thoughts would be lovely, if anyone has the inclination. x

Spoiler:

tigersgogrrr

Damn formatting.

tigersgogrrr

Added an ending. Bit shit. Don't really know where to go with it. I hate this part.

Spoiler:

After the funeral, I found him down by the canal, picking through washed up corpses. The water ran red in the evening sun and wisps of black cloud meandered through the sky.
“Found anything?”
He nodded, throwing a handful of fish bones onto the pile he had already assembled.
“Anything good?”
Dao shrugged this time. “Have a look,” he muttered, wiggling his long fingers at the pile. I did, and found little of consequence. The pile was mostly constructed from the cadavers of small rodents and river life, but at the base of the pyramid lay something more. Half coated in black mulch and rot was the skeleton of larger mammal. I couldn’t tell what exactly, a goat perhaps, or a sheep?
It was something we could work with, but there had been better days.
I sat against a tree and watched him forage, digging his slender arms through the black mud and tossing bits of ivory to the shore. I had always admired his work, old Dao. He never tired, never weakened. Never stopped working.
I liked that about Dao.
Watching him wade through the slime and plunge into the murk, I thought about the ceremony I had left. Funerals didn’t upset me anymore. I’d seen enough of them for their sombre edge to dull. I still attended many and stood quiet, ignored like shadow, but the dead were just names. This one had felt more personal, for it had been for Dao’s wife.
“She would have wanted you to be there.”
Dao grunted, and pulled a cow’s leg from the mire. He regarded it for a few moments before throwing it to the pile. He clambered out of the mud and joined me under the tree.
“You think?”
“You know she would, Dao. Whatever happened in the end.”
He grunted again. Stared at his filthy hands.
“What did she look like, these past years?” he asked.
“As beautiful as you remember, I’m sure.” In truth, she had been haggard and broken. Skeletal, bald, and malaised by Red Fever. This, Dao did not need to know. “She still wore her hair as you liked it.”
Dao’s eyebrow lifted. I did not tell him of the fear she had felt in these past weeks. She was lucky to finally be done; the dead do not fear the Red Fever.
“Come on,” he exhaled. “Let’s get these back.”
We sorted the bones quickly. Human bones we propped against the tree in macabre ornamentation. Far too many of those, these days. The Red Fever had cut through the country like a searing knife. Since the new year, it had ravaged from Ender’s Boon, through the White Mountains and now rioted towards Salamak itself. There was no cure.
Everything taken from an animal was placed into the sack. We made no mistakes.
Thunder growled in the distance.
“She’s going to be beautiful, isn’t she?” whispered Dao.
I nodded and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Like a dream.” I replied.
Back at the house, in the heart of the forest, we sorted the bones properly. Dao had a good eye for this. Always had. It took him moments where it took me minutes to sort the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, sniffing each bone in turn and tapping it with those long fingers. I was lucky to have someone so skilful to work with. The useless bones, those where life had been taken in the wrong fashion, were thrown to the dogs. The rest we sorted once more. Spines and ribs and joints and more, large and small, we could use them all.
We used some for practice. The weaker ones, from the animals who had not just died from the Red Fever, but who suffered from malnutrition or osteoporosis. We spent the night experimenting, as was our habit.
It had been exciting to watch Dao’s obsession grow. We had met in a drinking hole east of the river. He was drunk and wittered endlessly about his wife and his failing carpentry business. I could see his potential, of course. I have the knack. A few quiet words of suggestion and he staggered back to my cabin, where I showed him some magic. That sobered him up quick enough. His fascination was endless but I dealt out my time shrewdly. We always want what is just beyond our reach. Dao was no different.
First we had made White Worms. Cords of bone that wriggled into heaps of soil and retrieved coins we had buried. Over the weeks Dao grew more assured, though never cocky. Always inquisitive, Dao. Always working tirelessly to improve the craft. It was a wonder that his carpentry business has been so rotten. After the White Worms his ambitions grew. We made playful constructs that danced to our words and waltzed about the table top. Prancing white marionettes that moved to our tune and stilled when we grew tired, if not bored. Dao soon grew better at this than me, somehow.
I was not jealous. I needed him to grow strong.
We took only the best bones, for the thing we called Ebur. Softly speaking words of taint, we fixed the bones to Ebur with thaumaturgic suggestion. He was to be a marvellous thing. Our greatest work! A triumph of the art. Multi-limbed and with a hundred claws, with vast twin heads built of fused rat and bird skulls. Six great wings built of lizard spines and wolf knuckles. We would drape some leather over them once he was complete and dye it gold and red.
Three more years we worked.
* * *
The leaves had died from the trees. The forest was silent and barren, quieter than it had been in a century. Wildlife had been burnt from our home and for miles around by the Red Fever. Our scavenging had played a part too, I suppose. The harsh bite of winter nipped at us as we stalked through the towering trees, hunting for any final scraps.
“I think it’s time, Dao.”
My companion raised an eyebrow at this and ran a hand through his final wisps of hair. A hacking cough tore at his lungs and he bent double. Red droplets painted his gloves. I watched him with worry as he inspected them, sighed, and wiped them on his greaves. I rubbed his back and tried to act soothing.
“Maybe you’re right.”
He didn’t have much time left. Perhaps I should have insisted on waking Ebur sooner? But she hadn’t been ready, and what craftsman unveils their greatest work before it is finished? Even now she could do with a few more months work, some perfecting, but my hand was being forced. I pulled Dao upright and we made our way back to the cabin.
Nestling him in the chair closest to the hearth, I lit the fire and brewed some tea. As we drank, he rattled his cup incessantly. His knuckles were white and his skin tinged red.
It would have to be tonight.
After he finished his tea, I lifted him gently and supported him as best I could. He could still walk without me but he would need every ounce of strength if our plan was to work. I lit a gas lamp and we walked out of the back door and into the enclosure we had built. It was perhaps 50ft square and covered by tarpaulin. It was like night in there, barring the fierce glow of my light.
Ebur lay, waiting.
She was a beautiful sight. We had finished the wings some weeks earlier and stretched the dyed leather across them with some difficulty. Dao was still strong and diligent then. The fever takes these people quickly. I had decided against gold and red, despite Dao’s protestations. Ebur’s bones were as ice and steel and I had insisted we paint her wings periwinkle.
I patted him on the back and went to inspect Ebur one final time. She was art, and she was ready.
We were ready.
Dao shivered and wrapped his cloak tightly around him. I glanced at him and hurriedly fetched my song book. We had practiced the words many times. He should be ready.
I opened the book before him.
“It’s time, Dao. Time for your finest work.”
One corner of his red lips lifted for a moment. Then, in grim harmony, we began to sing.

“Bones must bend and mend and twine,

and turn and shake and do as to mine,

and listen to hear and wake to our call,

and birth anew in sombre thrall.

Knit and move and dance and live,

and wake anew with this life we give,

and take again this gift you lost,

and begin again at morning frost.

Wake, meshed bone,

and hear our song,

and hold these souls to bring along,

and listen now, we call as your friend,

so catch these lives your way we send.

As we finished the final verse, the tarpaulin above whipped and rolled in the sudden tumult of the wind. It tore through the dead forest, howling like a legion of wolves. Lightning cracked and the sky bellowed in pain.
Dao’s eyes met mine. Before me, he and the world turned and started to spin, faster and fast.er
I fell into liquid night.
Breathe.
I woke. Dao’s body lay still, his lips covered in red. My body, old and husky, lay beside his.
We flexed. We dragged ourselves to our feet and stretched our wings, testing the fine ice-blue leather. It held. We tore through the tarpaulin and into the black night, wings driving us up and over the treeline of the forest. This was the strongest I had felt in a millenia. Necromantic force surged through our bones like blood. I could sense Dao, stupefied, with me in our chariot of bone. He would take longer to recover from the transference. It is never easy, not the first time. He was still in shock.
The distant lights of Ender’s Boon lit the horizon, the river Tam glittering close by.
We flew from the forest, a new-born chimera, and started our journey. Dao would be content when he woke, I was sure. He owes me a great deal anyway. He would be dirt if I had not set him on this path. He may take some time to understand life as unlife, but he is fast learner. And he no longer has to fear.

The dead do not fear the Red Fever.

Chief

Very good, tiger. Great imagery and leaves me wanting to know more of the world and these characters, and what they plan to do with Ebur.

tin_robot

Yeah, I liked it. I'm afraid I agree the ending needs a little bit of tweaking (unless it's the beginning of something more). I think it's maybe that Dao's fate doesn't seem quite explicit enough (in so much as I understand what's happened to them both, and I can imagine the uncomprehending horror of it for Dao, but I don't quite feel it.)

Only other comments are tiny things - you describe the pile as containing little of consequence, then go on to describe the larger mammal as if it is, indeed, of consequence. The other is that the spell/poem doesn't quite scan when you read it out loud. (I'm an irritatingly picky bastard.)

One final thing - there's a sort of inference that Dao neglects his wife because of his new found activities - I couldn't tell if that was deliberate or not, but again being an incredibly unsubtle man I wondered if, assuming it's deliberate, it's worth making slightly clearer, as it gives the end a bit more of a kick.

Finally, I'll say it again, I liked it. A lot. It's beautifully written and imagined, with some great world building in a very short space. Whenever anyone comments on anything I've written I always focus on the criticisms, so it's worse stressing that whilst I've given you a couple of paragraphs of tiny nitpicks it really is very good indeed.

tigersgogrrr

Thanks for having a look guys. Really appreciate all comments.

Yeah, there are a few inconsistencies and things that don't quite add up. Comes from the story morphing and changing in my own head as I was writing, then changing a few bits and skipping back and forward making minor tweaks and... well, you know.

Yes, Dao is supposed to neglect his wife due to his new found love of necromancy. I haven't quite got the timescales ironed out in my mind yet so that is perhaps a bit confusing. The 'of little consequence' thing is definitely wrong - That came from some rewriting and I'd missed it (thanks!).

Not happy with the end at all, to be honest. I'm just not quite sure where to go with it so forced something down. Will mull it over. Perhaps needs a bigger build up and a more clear ending? Hmm.

Again, huge thanks for having a read.

tigersgogrrr

Ok, I've had a play. Changed a few bits. Different ending. Bit happier with it, though I'm not convinced it shows enough. Fairly liking it overall though.

Spoiler:

After the funeral, I found him down by the canal, picking through washed up corpses. The water ran red in the evening sun and wisps of black cloud meandered through the sky.
“Found anything?”
He nodded, throwing a handful of fish bones onto the pile he had already assembled.
“Anything good?”
Dao shrugged this time. “Have a look,” he muttered, wiggling his long fingers at the pile. I did, but saw little of interest. The pile was mostly constructed from the cadavers of small rodents and river life, but at the base of the pyramid lay something more. Half coated in black mulch and rot was the skeleton of larger mammal. I couldn’t tell what exactly, a goat perhaps, or a sheep?
All things we could work with, but there had been better days.
I sat against a tree and watched him forage, digging his slender arms through the black mud and tossing bits of ivory to the shore. I had always admired his work, old Dao. He never tired, never weakened. Never stopped working.
I liked that about Dao.
Watching him wade through the slime and plunge into the murk, I thought about the ceremony I had left. Funerals didn’t upset me anymore. I’d seen enough of them for their sombre edge to dull. I still attended many and stood quiet, unseen by the mourners, but the dead were just names. This one had felt more personal, for it had been for Dao’s wife.
“She would have wanted you to be there.”
Dao grunted, and pulled a cow’s leg from the mire. He regarded it for a few moments before throwing it to the pile. He clambered out of the mud and joined me under the tree.
“You think?”
“You know she would, Dao. Whatever happened in the end.”
He grunted again. Stared at his filthy hands.
“What did she look like, these past years?” he asked.
“As beautiful as you remember, I’m sure.” In truth, she had been haggard and broken. Skeletal, bald, and malaised by Red Fever. This, Dao did not need to know. “She still wore her hair as you liked it.” I paused.
Dao’s eyebrow lifted. I did not tell him of the fear she had felt in these past weeks. She was lucky to finally be done; the dead do not fear the Red Fever.
“Come on,” he exhaled. “Let’s get these back.”
We sorted the bones quickly. Human bones we propped against the tree in macabre ornamentation. Far too many of those, these days. The Red Fever had cut through the country like a searing knife. Since the new year, it had ravaged from Ender’s Boon, through the White Mountains and now rioted towards Salamak itself. There was no cure.
Everything taken from an animal was placed into the sack. We made no mistakes.
Thunder growled in the distance.
“She’s going to be beautiful, isn’t she?” whispered Dao.
I nodded and smiled.
“Like nothing the world has ever seen,” I replied.
Back at the house, in the heart of the forest, we sorted the bones properly. Dao had a good eye for this. Always had. It took him moments where it took me minutes to sort the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, sniffing each bone in turn and tapping it with those long fingers. I was lucky to have found someone so skilful to work with. The useless bones, those where life had been taken in the wrong fashion, were thrown to the dogs. The rest we sorted once more. Spines and ribs and joints and more, large and small, we could use them all.
We used some for practice. The weaker ones, from the animals who had not just died from the Red Fever, but who suffered from malnutrition or osteoporosis. We spent the night experimenting, as was our habit.
It had been exciting to watch Dao’s obsession grow. We had met in a drinking hole east of the river. He was drunk and wittered endlessly about his wife and his failing carpentry business. I could see his potential, of course. I have the knack. A few quiet words of suggestion and he staggered back to my cabin, where I showed him some magic. That sobered him up quick enough. His fascination was endless but I dealt out my time shrewdly. We always want what is just beyond our reach. Dao was no different.
First I taught him to make White Worms. Cords of bone that wriggled into heaps of soil and retrieved coins we had buried. Over the weeks Dao grew more assured, though never cocky. Always inquisitive, Dao. Always working tirelessly to improve at his craft. It was a wonder that his carpentry business had been so rotten. After the White Worms his ambitions grew. We made playful constructs that danced to our words and waltzed about the table top. Prancing white marionettes that moved to our tune and stilled when we grew tired, if not bored. Dao soon grew better at this than me, somehow.
I was not jealous. I needed him to grow strong.
We took only the best bones, for the thing we called Ebur. Softly speaking words of taint, we fixed the bones to Ebur with thaumaturgic suggestion. He was to be a marvellous thing. A triumph of the art. Far greater than anything I had seen in all my centuries of wandering. Multi-limbed and with a hundred claws, with vast twin heads built of fused rat and bird skulls. Six great wings built of lizard spines and wolf knuckles. We would drape some leather over them once he was complete and dye it gold and red.
Three more years we worked on Ebur, and I worked on Dao.
* * *
The leaves had died from the trees. The forest was silent and barren, quieter than it had been in a century. Wildlife had been scoured from our home and for miles around by the Red Fever. Our scavenging had played a part too, I suppose. The harsh bite of winter nipped at Dao as we stalked through the towering trees, hunting for any final scraps. He shivered constantly. I, of course, felt nothing.
“I think it’s time, Dao.”
My companion raised an eyebrow at this and ran a hand through his final wisps of hair. A hacking cough tore at his lungs and he bent double. Red droplets painted his gloves. I watched him with concern as he inspected them, sighed, and wiped them on his greaves.
“Maybe you’re right.”
He didn’t have much time left. Perhaps I should have insisted on waking Ebur sooner? But he hadn’t been ready, and Dao was a craftsman. What craftsman unveils their greatest work before it is finished? If I had pushed, Dao may have rejected me, and what then? A few more months work would be ideal but my hand was being forced.
We made our way back to the cabin.
Before Dao nestled in the chair closest to the hearth, he lit the fire and brewed some tea. He rattled his cup incessantly and let his eyes droop. His knuckles were white and his skin tinged red.
“It will have to be tonight, Dao.”
“Yes,” he looked at me and smiled. “I agree.”
After finishing his tea, Dao washed his cup and placed it back on its grubby shelf. He paused, and for a moment I thought he would fall, but after a deep breath he retrieved a gas lamp and left through the back door. I followed behind. We entered the enclosure. It was 50ft square and covered by tarpaulin. It was like night in there, barring the fierce glow of his light.
Ebur lay, waiting.
She was a beautiful sight. We had finished the wings some weeks earlier and stretched the dyed leather across them with some difficulty. Dao was still strong and diligent then. The fever takes these people quickly. I had decided against gold and red, despite Dao’s protestations. Ebur’s bones were as ice and steel and I had insisted we paint her wings periwinkle. He came around to it eventually. He always did.
“You have done wonderfully” I said. I went to inspect Ebur one final time. She was art, and she was ready.
We were ready.
Dao shivered and wrapped his cloak tightly around him. He retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He had practiced the words many times. I hoped he had the strength left to finish.
“It’s time, Dao. Time for your finest work. ”
One corner of his red lips lifted for a moment. Then, in grim harmony, we began to sing in unison.

“Bones must bend and mend and twine,

and turn and shake and do as to mine,

and listen to hear and wake to our call,

and birth anew in sombre thrall.

Knit and move and dance and live,

and wake anew with this life we give,

and take again this gift you lost,

and begin again at morning frost.

Wake, meshed bone,

and hear this song,

and take these souls to bring along,

and listen now, we call as your friend,

so catch these lives your way we send.

As he finished the final verse, the tarpaulin above whipped and rolled in the sudden tumult of the wind. It tore through the dead forest, howling like a legion of wolves. Lightning cracked and the sky bellowed in pain.
Dao’s eyes widened. Before me, he and the world turned and started to spin, faster and faster. As everything turned to static a smile tore across my face. My head felt full and bloated.
I fell into liquid night. It was silent and dark.
We woke. Dao’s body lay still, his lips covered in red. My own diminishing essence lay close by. It looked so… weak. We flexed and felt torsion rippling through our new form. I had endured weakness for such a long time, I had almost forgotten what strength felt like.
We stood and stretched our wings, testing the ice-blue leather. It held. I snapped my jaws three times. I, or we? I was not sure. I tried to find Dao in our new vehicle, but could not. I was still growing accustomed to our new form.
We tore through the tarpaulin and into the early morning sky, wings driving us up and over the treeline of the forest. This was the strongest I had felt in a millenia. Necromantic force surged through our bones like hot blood. I could sense Dao now. He was stupefied, barely conscious, but absolutely with me in our chariot of bone. He would take longer to recover from the transference. It is never easy, not the first time. He was still in shock.
The distant lights of Ender’s Boon lit the horizon, the river Sham glittering close by.
We flew from the forest, a new-born chimera, and started our journey. Dao would be content when he woke, I was sure. He owed me a great deal anyway, though he had played his part in my return. He would be in the dirt with his wife if I had not set him on this path. It may take him some time to understand this, as he may take time to appreciate life as unlife, but he is a fast learner. And he no longer has to fear.

The dead do not fear the Red Fever.

tigersgogrrr

If anyone else is writing any shorts, Shimmer seem like a nice place to send stuff. Pro paying and give personal feedback in all cases, I believe.

tigersgogrrr

Struggling with a rewrite.

Working on my Mothgate story and I've been tasked with putting more story in there. Some kind of progression, or hint of future progression. The problem being that it's a time loop, and progression... well, that doesn't fit all too well. It's kind of about inevitability and responsibility and acceptance of a path, I s'pose, but I'm reticent to say no.

Think I just need to keep pondering how I can do it, but time loop stuff makes it nigh impossible...

EDIT: Ah, fuck! An idea... this... might work!

Rev

http://www.godisageek.com/2015/02/richard-ogden-interview/

First interview I've ever done.
Seemed to turn out ok.

Tempy

tigerswiftly wrote:

EDIT: Ah, fuck! An idea... this... might work!

Go on then...

tigersgogrrr

There's a lore book they keep with all the creatures they encounter which they update and amend. This is not reset by the time loop. Therefore they are able to, as the loops go on and on, learn more and more. Eventually, this could break the loop.

'Cos MAGIC.

Tempy

Thumbs up.

tigersgogrrr

revelthedog wrote:

http://www.godisageek.com/2015/02/richard-ogden-interview/ First interview I've ever done. Seemed to turn out ok.

Nice.

Game looks cool too, actually.

Rev

Its a brilliant little game.

Did this too.

http://www.godisageek.com/reviews/dead-alive-5-review/

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