She’s finished. Here is the new centerpiece for my wife’s Age of Sigmar Army:
I’m still working on the rider (I made two of the spines detachable, so it works either way), but this dragon will be the main attraction for Daeva’s mixed Wanderers (wood-elves) and Sylvaneth (tree-folk) army. I’m pretty pleased with it, and it pulls together the cherry blossom themes of the army nicely.
I know there is a specific mini for the woodelf forest dragon (I have it), but this mini in this color scheme spoke to me. The other mini looks good in green, so I’ll tackle that someday as a stand-alone project.
On the writing side, I have completed a rough pass for act 3. By that, I mean I have finished the most egregious grammar and spelling mistakes. That was roughly 1000 edits on its own. A solid week of work, but I’m not done yet.
This act needs a net-new chapter and then a chapter-by-chapter fresh coat of paint. I think that will take most of June. Then it’s on to a final chapter-by-chapter polish, and then I’ll be done. So my novel will probably be finished sometime in August, maybe September at the latest. It’s a lot of work, but I’m on track for my goals this year.
That means I will need more to paint. It’s a good thing I have a dragon who needs an army to run. This is going to be a rather large project, so stay tuned!
I recently took part in a Christmas themed one-off D&D session. We did it over Zoom, but it was still great to roll some dice again. I didn’t use my normal random number character building methods for this character, but I still think it’s pretty neat.
This is the backstory for Xander of the Broken Antler.
It began like any other holiday season. Xander was home tending the hearth, waiting for his parents to return home from their shopping excursion to town. Xander was patient for a ten-year-old and was not concerned that they were running late. He busied himself with preparing dinner and writing his letter to Santa by firelight. It was a short list: a wooden ship, a new hat, sweets and something nice for his parents. The simple list of a kind child. He would soon deliver it by tossing the letter into the lit hearth of the fireplace, as was the tradition in his village, but he would wait for his parents to do that. As the night grew long, Xander could wait no longer and fell asleep on the rug in front of the fire.
His parents never returned.
Xander woke in the morning to a knock on the front door of the cabin. He opened it to find his neighbors there; sadness spread across their faces. They could hardly speak, but through sobs and choked voices, he understood what had happened. His parents were beaten, robbed, and left to die in the snow.
The neighbors offered Xander their home. They said he could stay as long as he wanted. He thanked them and said he would come, but he wanted to say goodbye to his home. When they agreed to leave him there, Xander closed the door and went to his room. He sat on his bed and cried quietly for hours. He has heard of similar crimes committed across the countryside and knew the perpetrators rarely paid for their crimes. That thought crystallized in his mind. They would never pay for this.
Night was beginning to fall. Xander knew that he would need to leave soon if he was to make his way to his Neighbors’ cabin. That thought floated back into his head, first like drifting snow, then like a frigid blizzard.
They will never pay for this.
His parents loved him and raised him to be kind. They would want to be remembered, but also for him to be safe. He knew he should have gone to his neighbors. They had always been good to him. They would treat him like family. Like family.
He knew he should be charitable. They died due to the cold. The thieves may not have meant to.
May not have meant to.
Leave them to die slowly in the cold.
Xander was unsure if the voice growing stronger inside him was his own, but he was sure of its intent. Guided by confidence uncommon for one so young, he moved to the hearth. For the first time in his life, he knew this letter would be read.
Xander tore up his previous letter and gathered up a new piece of thick parchment. Rushing to begin his task, Xander cut his thumb along the side of the paper. A deep, stinging wound, but he hardly noticed it. He wrote a new letter to Santa Clause.
I have been good this year. I have been good all my life, as have my parents. But instead of gifts, they received death, and I misery.
Know that I have only one request. If you grant this request, I shall never want for anything else. One single gift for which I am willing to devote my life in exchange.
I want revenge.
With that final sentence, Xander felt a weight lift from his heart. For the first time in his short life, he was feeling hate. Admitting that was not only a relief, it felt good.
Xander began to toss the paper into the fire when he realized he had not signed it. He scrawled his full, god-given name across the bottom of the page. Then, Xander felt a sting in his thumb. Guided again by assurance not his own, he pressed his thumb beside the signature, leaving behind a small bloody print.
He folded the paper and threw it into the fire.
Hours passed as Xander watched the fire. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, just that he had to wait. As the fire grew dim, the weather outside shifted. The light snowfall of the afternoon turned to a fierce blizzard. The chill wind howled and battered the cabin until suddenly, every candle in the house blew out as if the wind itself were let inside.
“Do you hate them so?”
Xander didn’t turn to face the voice behind him. He continued to stare into the dwindling flame. “Yes.” He whispered. “More than anything.”
“And you would give your life to have theirs?”
Xander considered this. He watched the flames and wondered if he could walk away. Could these flames be reignited, or would they succumb to this cold wind?
“Yes, I will give my life,” Xander said.
The response he received was a loud crack like a bone snapping behind him. At the same time, the fire went out, leaving only dying embers.
“Take this and exact your task. Only with that can our pact be forged. Only then will I visit you again.”
Xander turned to find he was alone in the room. Though it was dark, he could see no one, and nothing changed in the room, save for a curious item left on the floor. A bone, no, an antler.
He picked it up. It was a single sharp tine from what must have been a monstrous antler. As he turned it over in his hand, it changed from bone to blade. The pale dagger glimmered in the dark and tingled in his grasp. He knew right away that it gave him power, but more importantly, it gave him direction.
Xander disappeared from his town without a trace. He left behind the murderers, stabbed to death and shoved up the chimney of his parents’ now abandoned cabin.
Woof! I know, pretty dark for a Christmas character. I started with the concept of a warlock who has a pact with Krampus, and it just expanded from there.
I built the character to be a stealthy magic-user. I picked spells to help him stay hidden and then gain combat advantage. If he had more levels, I would have to figure out how to give him the Sneak Attack ability to use these spells and the theme better. Think Nightcrawler from the second X-Men film, but Christmas themed.
For the pact, I imagine Xander is compelled to give to the good and needy, but he is then obligated to punish the wicked to balance the scales every time he does. Basically, it’s a naughty or nice based pact. The dagger is the focal point of this pact, and it allows him to sense who is naughty and who is nice.
I really like this character, and while I doubt I’ll ever play him again, I have a feeling I’ll be writing more about him in the new year. In the meantime, I’m well on my way to finishing my edit of the first ten chapters of my book, and likewise, I’m almost done with the accompanying writing partners. You can find a sample from the group below. Stay tuned for an update in the coming days.