#miomir

[atomicpen]

NOW @whyswhoswhats has me seriously considering picking up my old Miomir (medieval epic fantasy world) campaign and finishing the background work and settling on a plotline...

If... If I did, and if I found a good medium to host such a campaign... would there be any interest from you tumblr friends to play?

[atomicpen]

whyswhoswhats replied to your post:whyswhoswhats replied to your...

LOOK IMMA LET YOU FINISH BUT THIS WOULD BE A GREAT WAY TO WRITE LIA AND AERN

HEY NOW

THAT IS A GREAT IDEA

now I definitely want to finish this (I really only need to make the Fate table as far as rules go so far? And the only reason I haven’t finished it yet is because I moved away from my gaming group and thus had no incentive to? Soooooo yeah)

[atomicpen]

whyswhoswhats replied to your post:commandercousland replied to...

DID U SAY MIOMIR

Ehehehehe

I did

I actually mashed together a d20 system (because I like that system better than d10), and a Warhammer-like profession system (Career Path) rather than just the traditional D&D classes for Miomir-specific ones. I have all my notes for it, still, actually! Region notes for Brinidoth (though it was going to be set on the other continent, Makonia), class notes and bonuses for race, etc. and the scale for Qualities and Attributes (stuff like dex, con, intelligence, etc), a leveling scale, bonuses, how saves will be calculated, Traits (and how those are calculated), what the “magic pool” for each playable race would be... and a fate system, because I love fate systems

It’s not completely finished, though, and I never got around to solidifying a campaign plotline for it (though it was supposed to be set during the Fifth Age, an Age before the main series

maybe one day

[atomicpen]

6 for Aern/Lia because I'm always down for some cute. >>

6. things you said under the stars and in the grass

“They’re different,” Aern had told her one night seven months ago.

She hadn’t answered him right away, instead rolling his words over in her mind, trying to settle on what it was he meant. It had always been something of an unspoken game she had to herself--he had the habit of starting in the middle of a thought, and she took delight in trying to jump to where his mind had wondered.

She remembered how the soft tufts at the end of terrefis grass fronds bobbed all around them, arcing over where they lay. Head to head on the ground, Liadin had felt when he shifted his arms up to pillow his head, his elbows neatly framing her shoulders while she considered what he’d said.

“You don’t recognize any?” she’d asked at length.

A soft laugh had drifted from him, softer in memory than it had really been then. “Now I do. But, it was strange the first time I came so far from home. I watched the familiar sky I grew up with fade into one I knew nothing about.”

“It’s so very different?”

“In some places. Where I was born, there are stars that will never be seen down here, because it is so far north. There are others in the middle that you can see if you know where to find them.”

“Show me one of those.” A quick and bright desperation to find a bridge in the sky had formed in-between her rib bones, to find something that connected his faraway home to hers.

Aern had fallen quiet for a while, leaving Lia to still the breath fluttering in her chest for fear he’d hear.

“There.” Her gaze had followed the straight line of his arm and hand up through the indigo deep of the sky to a scattering of stars. “Here, that’s Ifarinn, the Ship of a Thousand Sails. Back home, it’s Oewyntheld, the Tree That Watches.”

“The same stars?”

“The same. It’s not really a different sky from there to here,” he’d continued, “but one expanse larger than you can imagine. If you stood here and I stood back up north, we could both see this and know we were under the same sky.”

Liadin looked up at the stars, miles away from the sloping hill they’d lain on that night, searching for Ifarinn. But it was the wrong time of year, and the Ship wasn’t there--and neither, she knew, was his Tree.

He’d said he could still see those stars from the land where he was born, but she didn’t know how to believe him. They’d vanished from the sky four months ago, right before he left, as if he’d packed them away and taken them with him. Aern knew how best to burn all his bridges, and Lia supposed she--nor the stars themselves--were no different, after all.

He’d said when they saw the Ifarinn, the Oewyntheld, they’d know they were beneath the same sky, but when it was gone? She knew they stood beneath two different ones. How could the skies remain the same now, when he’d gone and so had the bridge that held them together?

Lia tugged a tuft of terrefis off its stalk and ground it to a dusty powder between her fingers and thumb and tried not to hear the hollowness in her chest.

She should have never believed that he’d be less fleeting than spring, and the dreams in which she saw him should have stopped hurting by now. But the dreams were so real she could still smell him when she woke, and it made her angry. So she wrote letters she’d never send to him in a small, worn book and went back to the city she’d met him in, back to the rotund belvedere to teach where she once had studied, and buried herself in work. In work, where there were no striking green eyes in an unsettlingly still face.

But on the nights when her work slackened to a dull drone and she walked through the observatory arboretum, she caught the taste of spring against her lips and tongue and could not stop from looking for Ifarinn, even though she knew it would never be found in the winter sky.

And she crumbled terrefis in her hand so that she wouldn’t do the same.

[atomicpen]

Okay, I’m opening this up:

I need Greek/Roman-flavored and Horn of Africa/Eastern Africa-flavored names--men, women, places, titles--for an original story (set in Miomir). I have some, but they’ve sort of been earmarked for another story set in an earlier time, and I don’t want to reuse them. I obviously will make more of my own, regardless if people toss some my way or not, and I may not use those people do send (though I very well might, keep that in mind! If you don’t want me to potentially use something, don’t suggest it), but I thought it might be fun for people who like my writing and would enjoy my original works to have a chance to make suggestions that very well might end up being officially used.

I’m using placeholders now for characters, as I got hit with an idea on how to start writing (which I was honestly a little worried about--how to start this story, which actually begins two years before the rest of what’s going to happen) and didn’t want to lose the idea by getting bogged down in names--but I admit it’s a little jarring to keep writing [Name] for my main characters |D

So, anyone want to throw ideas my way?

[atomicpen]

Took a walk through the woods for about an hour and a half today, got loaded all up with Miomir feelings and ideas, and so came back to work on those stories the rest of the day.

Not much actual narrative written today, but did a lot of background work and sussed out the issue of scale for two of the three maps I have so far (and there will be more), and, even more exciting, had nearly all the pieces fall into place of how to make a particular story work in Miomir, on which I am now scribbling notes.

Onward and upward, one page at a time!

How are you tonight, friends?

[atomicpen]

WHEN YOU SEE THIS, SHARE 3 RANDOM LINES FROM WIPS

1.

“Summer apples,” Roe said, flicking the reigns to get his horses dragging the wagon into creaking motion. “Brought up from the Mittair plateau. Ever had them?”

Ceilan took one out of the bag. It was brightly colored, yellow and pink, small enough to fit within the palm of his hand. “I have not.”

“First bite’s a little tart—that’s just the skin,” Roe told him happily, guiding the horses back into the ruts lf the wagon path leading west. “But after that they’re sweet.” He held out his hand. “Pass me one, will you?”

2.

“I follow the Fortune Winds or the Winds of Trade,” she said.

“What about following that sound?”

“... What sound?”

“Don’t you hear it? It sounds like… faint music or singing…?”

“No, no. We never follow that one.”

3.

“Another one?”

The stack of half-unrolled parchment scrolls on the desk before her seemed unreasonable enough, yet her mother stood in the doorway with her hands full of more.

“Try ‘another seven’.” Her mother crossed the solar and set the scrolls on the desk. “Have you narrowed your selection down at all?” She eyed the rumpled pile already there.

The woman sitting at the desk sighed. “That is my ‘No’ stack.”

Reaching out, her mother fingered through the scrolls for a moment, the light fabric of her split sleeve drifting as she moved her arm. “These are… all of them so far.”

[atomicpen]

more miomir! after reading some of the parts you put up, I'm curious for more!

Alas, anon, I'm not sure I will be posting more actual content of Miomir! If I get any prompts for Miomir and fill them, then I will post them, probably, but because it's an original work I want to oublish ine day, I decided posting a lot of the writing on the internet is probably not the best way to go.I am terrible at updating regularly (because it's under its own email account and thus I forget to sign into it a lot), I do have a Miomir blog. It's mostly pictures that inspire me for different aspects of the world, but there is some other content in there that's not just pictures.And, as always, you can always ask me something if you're curious about any particular part! Or send a prompt if you have an idea for one--I promise to eventually fill it, though no promises on time frame.