The fog was thick in the air, she could only tell when the mob passed closely by. She had been running and hiding most of the night. Having no business being there with a husband and child at home she was cursing her decision to listen to Agaitha Winerek. “I clearly remember telling her with the trials and all, but ooohh no, she wouldn’t listen. Oh Maria, twill be so much fun, the cider, the stories, and not a soul will be the wiser.” Through the panic Maria blushed red with the realization of how silly her muttering sounded. What started as a night of fun with the cabin fevered mothers turned into a nightmare of deadly proportions. Her mind wouldn’t stop racing around the events that lead to this moment…

Just after dark Maria kissed her husband and child goodbye, grabbed the lantern her husband handed her and left out to meet the girls. They had grown up together, gotten married about the same time, and with Maria’s addition a couple months ago, they all had children. Growing up they had always met in the woods behind the old church, lit a fire, and told stories to see if they could scare each other. It had been years since they had been out there, and they were all as excited as they were cautious. A year ago a homeless woman was seen eating a rat, and was later caught scaring kids with the eyes and tails. What started as a simple case of disturbance soon escalated into a plague of convenience convictions and vigilante justice. They all knew know one was safe, was the nostalgia of it all was far too enticing.

One by one they showed up around the campfire, each one more giddy than the next. After they all greeted each other and settled down Cynthia Hamlin started things off with a ghost story that had some promise but got way too sappy to hold it’s once haunting edge. Then March Engel stood everyone’s hair up with a story that was way to close home. After a long silence March broke through the eerie silence with her all too common laugh after scaring the fool out of everyone, which always led to a host of laughter. Everyone was slowly quieting down as Agaitha stood to tell her story. Agaitha’s stories always started off slow, with lots of dramatic pauses, probably the only reason escaped. At about the third mouth gaping stare we heard a rustling. We were scared for just a moment, when Cynthia pointed at that March wasn’t in the circle. March was infamous for sneaking out of sight and scaring everyone, with a smile on their face, story time continued as they eagerly awaited the obvious.

Agaitha was nearly finished when they heard a rustling, odd, they usually never heard her coming. March flew out of the woods in a blind run running falling over Cynthia. They all shrieked and fell apart in laughter, it took few seconds for March to catch her breath and finally speak above noise what she had been frantically mouthing since she arrived. “Run”, she shouted as her finger pointed back toward the church. A light fog was settling in and through it they could see the tint of torchlight. Someone had seen them, they were coming…

Of all the underground witch trials in England, only one young girl ever floated the pond in chains. She was an outsider who the villagers grew suspicious of, and without ever learning her name they through her before the mob and demanded justice. The weary self proclaimed judge demanded she be immediately chained and thrown into the pond. But to his own amazement, this girl did not sink, and the waters began to shimmer. Minutes passed like seconds as everyone watched in amazement, until an unfamiliar shout “burn the witch” , was shrieked from the crowd. The still bewildered judge no longer bearing the hate in his heart was far too fearful not to feed the monster he had created. So to appease the mob, he ordered her burning.

As the men were retrieving the strange woman from the pond, a man cloaked darkly in a druids robes raised his voice and addressed the now attentive crowd. “You have witnessed the power of this witch. Would you then burn her in you own village, releasing this evil amongst you? Come with me, the druids have a place to dispose of such things, there we will burn her, and her evil will be banished from this land.” The people agreed, and for two days they trekked the countryside until they came to a peculiar stone circle where other druids were awaiting their arrival.

It was already late in the evening, the druids took the woman to the center of the circle and tied her to a stake that appeared to be placed squarely atop an alter covered with fire wood and reeking of pitch. One of the druids took a ceremonial dagger and cut her deeply on one leg well above the knee. They waited as a peculiar shimmering blood slowly found its way down her leg, onto the wood  finally landing atop the altar. Still standing in the wood, the druid holding the dagger gave a nod, and the other druids tossed their torches onto the wood. The pitch spread the fire quickly, and shrieks from both the druid and the woman filled the air for far longer than seemed natural.

An uneasy fear was growing on the crowd. The wailing had ended,and through the heated haze it was hard to determine, but it looked like they were staring at each other. Then the burnt ropes that had held her to the stake snapped, and the two leapt at each other. All but a few in the mob ran, leaving the judge and a few others watching this spectacle. And as the two in the flames battled the druids began chanting what sounded like a prophesy. “Even in the fire she guards the gate, but the guilt from judgement lingers. The fire fades away her unnatural age, and there he can lay his fingers.”

For what seemed hours they fought, but she seemed to be growing weaker. A forceful blow came from the druid landing her on her back. She tried to get up but the druid straddled her chest pinning both her arms then wrapped his hands firmly around her kneck. She weakly struggled against him but soon her body went limp, and the victor arose and watched as she quickly faded to a shimmering ash that was scattered to the wind.

Then the ground began to shake violently and pillars of light began to radiate all around. Several odd beings stepped forward from these lights and surrounded the mob. The druid who fought in the fire now turned his attention to the judge. “I thank you my friend for finding her, I have been searching a very, very long time.” The judge gathered his wits and pleaded, “please sir, allow us to be on our way.” The druid replied “fear not good judge, I have use for you all.” “You my friend, will be my eyes and ears in this world, and I will repay your service with immortality. But as for your 7 friends here, they are no use to me alive.”

With that the villagers were dragged and bound to the seven surrounding altars in the circle. The druid walked back to the judge where two others were making sure he did not leave. “They call me Arakai, and you might be?” The judge replied weakly, “Merin.” The druid motioned for the strange beings to back away then spoke, “Merin, I am going to rule this world and you will be by my side.” “And I am going to give you power you couldn’t even imagine, as well as your own army.” He pulled out the dagger that he had cut the woman with and placed it in Merin’s hand. “Your army and your power lie on these seven alters, now go claim what is yours.”

Drunk with a new lust for power, yet sickened by it all Merin moved to the first altar, dagger in hand. He knew this man, their children played together and their wives talked often, funny they had rarely spoken at all. His screams sounded like they were a mile away in a bucket, echoing through his head as he plunged the dagger into his heart almost throwing up. The next thing Merin remembers is stepping back from the 7th he had killed, as if some sort of trance had overtaken him.

My dedication for this site is about to change. New job, student loans, kids, and life in general makes finding any spare time for development complicated. At best I may dig up 6 good hours in an average week. That makes it very hard to stay focused, and makes the goal just that much more long term. So an idea crossed my mind that might turn out to be as fun as it is embarrassing, and the time impact would be minimal. That idea is to do live story lining right here on the blog.

The idea is to write back story for games I am or will be working on, as a way to keep things moving forward when it seems like nothing is moving forward. It will also challenge my writing skills and hopefully improve them. And I don’t expect every week to be epic, but I hope it proves to be entertaining.

Not going to get too wordy, here is a design shot of what I am doing for the competition going on right now at RPGDX. This is going to be old-school, and I will post a demo of what I get done. There are a lot of promising entries this year, be sure to check them out.

Well, this adventure has certainly been a humiliating experience. I honestly don’t know the best way to say this, in which it comes across as cool, or acceptable, or whatever, but there is a bottom line. I lack the talent and focus to finish a game, I do. And I have all the respect in the world for those of you who have accomplished this task. And I had seen these games as my ticket to a small amount of fame and fortune, which always ended in furious disappointment. I couldn’t even give Choppacide away for free. Failure is a sobering thing, once you’ve had time to back away and assess the damage. What God has literally shown me through this is that the little talent I have obtained is not mine to be prideful of, and that my pride and desire for recognition has completely destroyed every one of my projects. If I finish a game from this point on, the credit ultimately belongs to God, and I would also like to give credit to all those who have pioneered this industry before me. I am honestly a bit uncomfortable in this post, no one like religion in their face, but I was even more uncomfortable not posting it, knowing this had to be done. So for anyone who took me as condescending, or arrogant, please accept my apology.