Today’s snippet, titled “Myrnidaraför”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
– – – – – – – – – – –
      She blinked. “What do you mean, no?”
      “No. It is a small word, Lucille. Surely you are not so spoiled these days that you have forgotten the basics?”
      Lucille frowned, her brow creasing deeply. “There is no call for that tone, Uncle Lev. I am your blood and your niece and I love you as my own father, but I came to celebrate my news, not to argue or negotiate.”
      “Lucille,” Agnessa began, then hesitated. “Are you sure, absolutely sure, that this man – is your myrnidaraför?
      Is he? Lucille closed her eyes, pressing her index and middle finger to her forehead and her thumb to her cheek. The ring he had given her weighed heavy on her hand. How can I know such a thing? How can any one know? And yet-
      “I close my eyes every night and see his face in the darkness, glowing and golden and beautiful. I wake in the morning and there is a smile on my face because I cannot wait to see him again. Who can know, mother, if the feelings I have are the feelings? All I will say is that when I pause to consider my future – whether it last one day or one hundred years – I want to be at his side.”
      Agnessa smiled, slipping an arm around her daughter’s slender shoulders. “That is how you know, my child. It was just so, for me, when I first met your father. He paid me no attention, but I knew – instantly. When at last, he came to see me, I could only tell him the truth – he was my myrnidaraför.”
      Both women looked to Lev, frowning.
      “Don’t give me that look, either one of you. Silly women with your romantic idiocies.” Lev stood and shook his head, his close-cropped silver hair glimmering in the candlelight. “Your father would have wanted more for you, Lucille. I don’t care that he is Captain of the City Guard-”
      “Uncle Lev, he is the Warden of all the city guards in all of Phoenixa!”
      “Frog fart!” He snorted. “Phoenixa is nothing but a few dozen miles, squared, in the middle of nowhere. It will be eaten alive by the cunts in Mivon or Pitax before it sees a decade. Mark my words, Lucille, he is man of no account without that appointment and if you tie yourself to him now, you’ll end up back here, living out your days like Madam Yancy. The whole lot of you are just children playing at politics. Nothing more.”
      Lucille squared her shoulders, advancing on her uncle in a way she would never have conceived of mere months ago. “No, you listen here, Lev Saine. Phoenixa is strong, and it is good, and those of us who are dedicating our lives to ruling it with benvolence and wisdom – we will not fail. We are not just children playing at anything, Uncle. We are skilled, we are talented, and we are building a new land to be proud of – and that is something my father would have wanted for me. So… so… Fuck. You.”
      And with that, Lucille stormed out of her Uncle’s parlor, leaving her mother stunned – but proud – and her uncle astonished.
      Some weeks later, Agnessa arrived to celebrate the Silverglazer Festival and witness Lucille and Erin’s wedding, but Lev could not get away. Agnessa assured her daughter that Uncle Lev understood and sent his love (to Lucille, at least).
      He has yet to visit Ryvendale.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Signed, Josie
Note: Image is “Brandy 2” by mpflournoy from

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