Summer Camp: Ready, Set,….PANIC!

I even used an I.V. of black coffee for constant stimulation. Didn’t help.

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Here we are already into the middle of the month of July, and I am just starting to complete my first prompt for Summer Camp.

This is not a good beginning to this writing challenge.

Normally by this time I've already done all the prompts I've been given. But here's the thing: you are my number one commitment.

I started to panic about whether or not I was going to be able to fulfill the pledge I made for myself on WorldAnvil for Summer Camp. But then I looked at my writing schedule. I looked at the books that I am crafting for you, and I realized I couldn't do both.

I just couldn't pull it off with this equipment.

Not yet, anyway.

So what am I going to do? I'm gonna do the very best that I can without compromising the stories that I am preparing for you. Because that was the original promise I made you…and I made that one first.

So let's have some fun, and see what I can still come up with in the time allotted me. My strategy now is to build at least the 300 word minimum on what we call "stub" articles. It'll give us a little bit of flavor, meet the requirements, and allow us to come back and develop it later.

Here we go.

Oh, one last thing! For me to catch up, there's going to be a super high word count, so if you hit a wall in the email, just make sure you click through and come to the website to read the full article.

OK, let's do this!

Theme One: Power

Power presents itself in many forms within this vast world -- but it is sought for only one reason: control. From researching ancient scrolls, to tempting the darker beings of the unseen world, mortals seek to control power. Whether it be for selfish reasons or to wrest it from those who would abuse it, the struggle is real and ongoing.

Silently working among the clouds, the University of Magic remains a culmination of the arcane, tapping into the Seven Disciplines to shape the world to their will. Working from the shadows, criminal organizations leverage fear and pain against humble citizens, tipping the economic balance of the nobles too fat to notice the extra hands on their purse strings.  

Let’s pay close attention to how power is being used, and how it will affect the ongoing stories of this world…

Prompt 1: A powerful organization in your world

FAF (Fishis Archive Foundation)

Unlike other organizations, factions, and guilds, the Fishis Archive Foundation occupies the whole of a district within the walls of Clockwork City. Its copper pinnacle rises above the skyline, basking in the sunlight as the greatest ongoing achievement of gnome-kind.

• 18,643 employee

• 6021 field agents

• 413 media experts

…all collaborating to research, collect, and organize 1.5 billion gnomes' knowledge and experience.

For nearly 200 years, the FAF has been a perfect and ever-growing resource for every guild within society. From medical advances and discoveries to the ongoing census of the population, to the public schematics of cybernetics cell replacement, the FAF provides the information.

In The Beginning

Nobody likes to talk about it, but we didn’t always live in high-rise, fancy buildings like we do now. We washed up on the shores like some revolutionary fish, struggling to enter a new environment. That’s when there were trees. When there were wild animals, and an actual forest on the islands.

That’s when we learned to build.

Refusing to die from cold and malnutrition, an old gnome named Lester Digglefromp established an independent camp. Watching the struggles of his people, he decided it was important to log and record all the advancements we would make. Fleeing from Andilain, he abandoned his book shop and previous life for the unknown risks of freedom.

Humans trained him as a bookkeeper, and he worked for them. He knew facts, figures, mathematics, which were all complemented by an insatiable desire for knowledge. That, coupled with the loyalty for his own race, made him the perfect father of the FAF. Hauling all the supplies he could fit into his lifeboat, he cast himself upon the open waters of the sea.

Transition of the Records

For 51 years, Lester continued to record and organize the life story of the gnomes. It was this example that inspired future generations to gather the written works of Lester and hundreds of other gnome historians. They transformed their words into digital format to provide access to every curious mind, ensuring protection.

As his hands gave way to arthritis, Digglefromp trained a new generation of curious minds. Those dedicated to discovering the secrets of everything. That, my dear friend, is why the FAF is as powerful and influential as it is.

They want to know…everything.

Prompt 2: A seat of power (of any kind!)

The City of Andilain

NOTE: For this prompt I decided to go with a little storytelling. Enjoy.

As the sun rose once more, the fog lifted, revealing a winter landscape unlike anything Wendell had seen before.

Following behind the Wolen, he watched the mountains open up to a valley as far as the eye could see. Vast fields, now covered with snow, all rolling up to meet what looked like a giant crown sitting upon a hill.

‘Ting.’

Brilliant white walls rising hundreds of feet into the air, grasping at the clouds. Along its base, huts and homes mixed amidst a thick tree line. Trails of smoke rose from the chimneys of villages speckling the fields about the monolith of stone.

The ‘ting’ of the Wolen’s bells cut through the morning silence, alarming the indigenous fowl, scattering them into flight.

It’s…HUGE, Wendell gasped, And this was all built by dwarves? He tried to imagine just how many hands had to work together to construct something so immense. The walls encased all but a minor incline, where the forest met the chiseled white stone. The closer they approached, the taller the walls seemed to grow, reaching up until they touched the sky.

There has to be a million people living in this place!

Wendell had never thought of how many people might live in such an area. He’d been to Sanctuary—which the Iskari had mentioned was fifteen valleys merged together at its center. When he’d asked Chuck how many people lived in Sanctuary, he’d fidgeted with his fingers for a moment.

‘Ting.’

“At least five thousand souls per valley, but usually more, depending upon what they grow and manufacture,” he’d replied.

I wonder if Andilain is bigger that Sanctuary?

Wendell leaned back in his seat and tried to take the experience in as they rolled forward. “Is that the…wall you told me about?” he finally asked in awe.

Green nodded. “Built in layers. My dad said the whole city was designed to resist any siege. It rests on top of the natural springs under it. Fresh water, areas to grow food, raise animals, buy and sell goods, all within the safety of the walls, if need be. Though you can see that during peace, the fields outside the walls are in full use.” He pointed ahead, “There are seven gates, each surrounded by farming villages.”

“All of them guarded,” Huey added.

“Which is another reason we’re behind the Olen,” Green added.

Wendell studied the huge building swaying on the giant wagon that never stopped. “Why?”

Green grinned wickedly. “You’ll see.”

‘Ting.’

Across the valley they rolled, moving through settlements where people waved and children played in the snow. A few decided to take a shot or two at the gnome with their snowballs. Green either dodged them or caught them with a lightening precision.

…then threw them back.

Hard.

Two boys learned, to their pain and humiliation, that it was unwise to throw things at ambidextrous little men in wagons.

As they approached the heavy metal gates to the city, the ring of the Wolen bell changed.

“Ting, Ting, Ting,” it rang aloud, warning those in its path.

Wendell heard a commotion and the faint shouting of the guards. Small figures dashed about excitedly, screaming at one another.

“Open the gates! Open the gates,” one shouted, waving his arms. As they rolled closer, his look of fear grew. “Are you hearing me?! The Olen is here…open the bloody gates!!”

I don’t get it, Wendell wondered, what’s all the panic about?

When he looked back to Green, that wicked grin was firmly tacked across his face. “I love seeing the reaction when people hear that little bell.”

Scrambling in large groups, guards shoveled desperately at the snow, while others pushed wildly at the giant metal gates.

…just in time to throw their bodies against the walls and suck in their bellies.

The Wolen sang again.

“Ting, Ting, Ting,” it rang aloud, rolling slowly through the archway.

“Halt!” the guards cried, immediately jumping between the Wolen and their own wagon.

Yet the gnome kept smiling and rolled on.

Scrambling out of the path of the horses, spears promptly dropped, pointing at Green and Wendell from either side of the wagon.

Green slowed, but did not stop.

“We said HALT,” demanded a rather large fellow with a scar down his cheek and nose so bent, it looked like it’d been glued there. He stepped closer and grabbed the reins of the horses, bellowing, “Papers before entering!”

Mouse locked his chocolate brown eyes onto a guard and gave him a deep growl—the spear getting just a bit too close to Wendell.

Pointing a single finger at the Wolen, Green said calmly, “I’m traveling to the castle with him.”

There was an immediate uneasy hesitation.

The party seemed a bit odd in the first place: a human, traveling with a gnome and a ridge hound?

The big man shrugged and nodded to the others.

Both the spears and guards backed away.

Green kept smiling and rolled along.

Wendell kept quiet as the humans stared at the gnome with a measure of uneasiness. A few gawked at the Ridge Hound warily, who continued to growl.

“Easy buddy,” Wendell whispered, stroking Mouses neck. “We’re okay.”

When they’d passed the gate and rolled out of earshot, he turned himself fully in his seat. “You lied.”

Green didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I was traveling to the castle.”

Snorting, “Yeah, with the Wolen.”

Huey hummed from behind. “That’s not what he said.”

Wendell frowned.

Sighing, Green bobbed his head from side to side. “I didn’t technically lie, Wendell. We are going to the castle, and we are also technically with the Wolen. We’re following right behind him, are we not? And we’ve been traveling with the Wolen…”

Shaking his head, “You’re splitting hairs, Green.”

He shrugged, “Maybe. But what did that hurt? They didn’t get their merchants fee, which means I can treat you to dinner and even breakfast because of their assumptions.”

“Oh let it go,” Huey strummed. “Green’s not a fan of over taxing people.”

The gnome grunted, “I’m not a fan of taxes, period. Life is hard enough without people trying to put their hands in your coin purse at every turn.” His smile completely vanished. “What irks me is then leaders, especially in these bigger cities, decide to spend coin however they please, and then force the repayment upon the working class. It’s just not right! No one holds them accountable!!”

Wendell was about to make a mental note concerning the gnomes perspective,…but Mouse’s massive tail whacked him in the face, nearly knocking him from his seat.

“Ow, Mouse—be careful…”

“Welcome to Andilain, Wendell,” Green said just above a whisper. “The capital city of High King Robert III.”

Wendell’s hands gripped his seat so tight, they turned white.

In front of them was a much smaller wall, though it was still magnificent to behold. It lay on the far side of an immense bridge of stone, steel, and wood—five wagons wide…and nearly ten times that across.

The gap between them was filled with water.

“Andilain has…a moat?”

Wendell had no clue of how many millions upon millions of gallons of water circulated around the city, but there were boats out. Small and medium boats, floating around the inner wall, fishing with lines and nets among the floating chunks of ice. Perches of stone jutted out from the side of the outward slanting walls. Docks, where other unmanned boats bobbed up and down with the mild current.

Green smiled. “It has a lake, Wendell. Engineered to serve dual purposes. The waters from the spring roll down from under the castle, through the communities, who use what they need. The rest flows out to feed a great lake, which serves as a natural defense.” Rapping his knuckles on the seat, he added, “Quick, Wendell…grab Huey for me, would you?”

The wagon rolled slowly across the bridge, and through a second heavily guarded gate. This entrance, however, was through a fortified tower, where dozens of soldiers huddled around open flames, spears propped up against walls and bows hung over shoulders.

Wendell sat back down in his seat and traded the lute for the reins.

“Slow us down to a crawl, Wendell.”

“What?”

“Just slow the wagon down.”

Wendell pulled back lightly on the reins.

The portcullis was up, doors open, allowing their wagon to roll through the deep stone tunnel.

Green nodded to the soldiers as they passed.

“Good day, gentlemen!” He gave Huey a strummed across his strings, emitting a beautiful chord, echoing across the water and up over the walls. His facial expression instantly changed, a light gleaming in his eyes. “How fairs the greatest city of humans?”

The question drew many smiles his way, including a polite nod from an older soldier warming himself at a fire.

“Far better now that a bard is among us,” one called from the end of the bridge ahead of them. He stepped out into the path and added, “Do you bring news from lands beyond, fair gnome?”

Agile fingers worked their magic, creating a melody of spring, drawing faces from wall and window above.

“I do,” replied the gnome, “but only rumors of greatness, my friends!” Standing upright in the seat, “My name is Bartleby Luckyfeller, and you can find my stories in song at the Broken Tooth tonight!”

A few guards let out a cheer, while others gave a wave of dismissal.

This didn’t stop the bard.

Instead, he let his fingers fly, picking a complicated tune that caused even Wendell’s blood to rise in anticipation.

“Don’t be fooled and cast me aside, my friends,” Bartleby cried aloud, “For I bring stories of the Hero and Mahan, not of old, but new!” He paused, waiting for wandering eyes to once more fix upon him. He grinned in delight from under hunched brows. “Come hear of the shadows now crossing your lands, and how a young boy, now gifted with the Ithari, has made the first strike against the darkness!”

That got their attention.

Bartleby closed his tune with a strum of the strings to the clapping of the guards on the ground.

The gnome bowed deeply.

When the wagon finally passed under the guard gate, he quickly tossed a silver coin to the young man who’d asked the question. “This is for the first round of drink for you and a friend, brave soldier of Andilain. See me after the performance, and I’ll treat you to a second!”

The soldier caught the coin in his gloved fist and raised it overhead. “I’ll be there!”

Wendell shook his head in disbelief and sank back in his seat. “You’re one of a kind, you know that.”

“Oh, he knows it,” Huey whispered. “He knows it all too well.”

Prompt 3: A resource that provides fuel or power

Beakers ‘One-Cheek-Sneak’

Interview with Solomon Turner — Manager of Wells Biker Boys Messenger Service, District 20

So what’s his secret? What’s his background?

No idea how he does it. He came out of nowhere and saved my business. Sure, he showed up to make himself some coin, but he’s done good for all the lower district flunkies like us.

He saved every single one of my messengers, by securing their jobs. Made a lot of friends too.

How did a food truck chef save messenger jobs?

Do you know what it takes to weave in and out of traffic, on a cycle, with no engine? Oh, I always had a measure of confidence in my boys — but now we can take the bigger contracts —cause they can cover the distance.

They’re beaten’ the professional runners now. Those fat boys sitting in their fancy delivery vehicles? My team now have the juice to slide down railings, sprint over tape-lines and barriers locking our competitors in traffic jams.

Do you think it’s drugs? Putting something in the food he’s serving?

Don’t talk smack, girl, or we’re done. I ain’t gonna squeal on that kid, even if he was walking the line. But you meet him, just have one conversation while orderin’ food and you’ll see.

Oh, some folks around here look down on Beaker, but he's a good kid. Quite clever, actually. But when it comes to food? That boy is as clever as they come. Fingers work magic, flipping those spatulas like some kind of circus entertainer.

…and I don't know what he calls those spices, but whatever he puts on those eggs, they’ll keeps ya up at night if ya ain't careful.

Good news is, each one of my messengers has the energy to cover 3 to 4 districts before they run out of gas. That's some serious energy there.

Any drawbacks from what you’ve seen? As in side-effects?

Naw. Well, unless ya call ‘tootin’ a bit too much a side-effect. Sure, it stinks like a cat with an open bout of twitch worm, but who ain’t had a bad experience with a bowl of chili, right?

It’s why the dish is called, Beakers ‘One-Cheek-Sneak’

Prompt Four: An animal associated with, or symbolizing, power (Species)

Jumäläton

"I’m going to kill it, Tamrin."

"You’ll do no such thing."

"Do you notice how it slithers about the campfires?"

"Of course I do…I hate the beast as much as you do."

"Just when you think you’re alone, those yellow eyes burn into the back of your skull! Look! There!…I can see it shifting just outside the light."

"Tamrin, don’t. Put the stone down. You need to be careful…McGlynn will know."

"How will she…"

"Have you not…for Päjumää’s sake. No one has told you about the cursed beast, or that the Triad forbids us to lay a finger upon it?"

"What? Why would the…"

"Calm yourself…and lower your voice. It’s listening."

"…listening."

"It is Jumäläton. Impious, corrupt, and an abomination to nature, but it is also intelligent."

"Then why not end it, now?"

"Because its obsession is to do the will of its master. Its link to the owner of Inimitable Essentials allows it to send information back to her even as we speak. The creature is rare, a symbol of power, and McGlynn has paid a great amount to the Triad for this privilege."

"This is wrong, Daemon."

"It is. But we are commanded to refrain. There must be a reason."

"Wherever the beast goes, McGlynn follows…that is what you are saying."

"I am."

"The men feel as I. Marcus, and even Antoni would kill the thing if given the chance."

"I know this, Tamrin. I was unaware you had not been told — but there are benefits to the jumäläton."

"Nothing of evil is beneficial, Daemon."

"Not so. You are a guard of the Black Market — your charge is to watch, monitor and guard those traveling here from the outside, are you not?"

"You know I am."

"…and you have not observed anything new?"

"…."

"Come now. Think."

"There…are fewer hands now working for Inimitable Essentials here in the market. McGlynn has sent her guards away."

"Correct. This beast has become her symbol of power to those in the market, sanctioned by the Triad. Those who once watched over her, now move product for her, instead. Do you know what this means?"

"It means we have more eyes than an animal. With her forces sent away, she is relying on this symbol of power to control the perceptions of the Market citizens. The Triad can now observe her more closely, so long as we keep track of the beast."

"Exactly. As I said,…there is always a reason."

"So what do we do now that we have its undivided attention?"

"What any sentry of the Black Market would do with an enemy…"

"Feed it lies."

"Now you’re catching on."

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Paid subscribers can comment, access the archive of this site, along with other stories, art, and any article I’ve ever written. If you aren’t a paid subscriber, you can access the archive for free with a 7-day trial OR earn a paid membership by joining the referral program!