Chapter thirteen is the part of my book that has been most heavily based on an afternoon of gaming so far, and consequently it has been one of the most challenging to write.  That seems paradoxical, however when you consider the difference between four friends having a laugh and attempting to create a serious high-fantasy world with a cast of three-dimensional coherent characters, then the reasons become clearer.

Having the cast of a book spend fifteen minutes discussing what the best option is, or spending an hour trying to determine the cause of death of a cow is par for the course on a game night but doesn’t make for good reading.

But now, Chapter thirteen is finished, and I’ve moved onto 14, which starts with something like this:

 ”…Tuvid looked on, helplessly, his arms and legs tied tightly to a wooden frame, the cords cutting into his flesh. He screamed but no noise came out, at least none that he could hear; but the little man heard, and turned to him, his face indistinct, blurry. A vague grimace blossomed on the man’s visage and he dove towards Tuvid, who struggled against his bindings but could neither move nor turn away…”

© Robert Goforth, 2012, no part of this may be duplicated without permission. All rights reserved