Boy do I feel like a hypocrite with this post. I never successfully sat down and carved out a time every day to concentrate on my blog posting. If I had, the blog probably would have had a longer, more successful life. I was the kind of person who thought “eh, I’ll just get to it when I’ve got some spare time”, but ultimately that was not the best approach.
Something I noticed when I first started both my blog and my podcast is that I was overflowing with topic ideas. I had so many ideas that I thought I’d never run out. Even so, I decided write some of them down in case I ever reached a point when the ideas were not so plentiful. This proved to be a helpful little tip that I’ve tried to pass on to those who are just starting in content creation.
Recently I got a ping from a Discord server that I’ve not visited in several months, and it reminded me that the annual Blaugust blogging celebration was right around the corner. I was reminded of a community of fresh-faced content creators who, without the desire for status, fame, nor fortune, explode onto the scene once every year to start up a new hobby or revive an old one. I likewise pictured the selfless mentors who give time and advice freely throughout the course of the event, hoping to encourage the follow participants and subsequently add to their ranks. Lastly, my mind wandered back to a bygone era when I was much more active both on this blog and within the greater community. I realized that I have not recently posted about the latest step in my writing journey.
This is an unsanctioned continuation of the Reliquary Series as heard on the Loreseekers podcast.
Jiana Muse slowly opened another tome. Study was important to her. It was the one thing she could count on to help her escape the harshness of the world. Perhaps this one would be able to hold her attention. She slumped over the desk and peered through the strands of black hair that fell in front of her eyes like a defiant curtain. With her recent adventuring, she no longer bothered to keep it neatly pulled away from her face. A few lines into the volume, the words began to blur together as her mind returned, once again, to the recent showdown with Elkar Bazram and his army of cronies. She picked up a quill that was sitting on the desk and started to scratch a pattern into the surface. As she replayed the events of the battle in her head, she applied more and more pressure to the quill until the tip snapped. In a short fit of anger, Jiana sent a pulse of electricity through her right hand, causing the quill to burst into fire. She quickly dropped it to the floor and stomped at the flame with her sandals.
The young wood elf bounded through the thick underbrush of the Grahtwood, darting this way and that, chasing whichever animal grabbed her attention. She was fascinated by the creatures, and often went out into the forest to observe their interactions and behaviors. Of course, being Bosmer, she observed a diet of mostly meat, but the relationship she held with the animals of the wood was much more complex than predator/prey. It was as if she could speak to them, and they sometimes obeyed her commands.
Jiana Muse shuffled along the sandy road. Since joining The Reliquary, she had been assigned to shadow an agent who had been present at the indrik hunt, a large redguard named Braxwolf. Braxwolf talked more than Jiana liked, and drank more ale than she preferred. In fact, they were opposites in most ways. Her frail frame and pale skin sizzled under the uncompromising Alik’r Desert sun. Braxwolf’s bald, brown head reflected it nearly as much as his heavy plate armor did, but he did not seem bothered by the heat. Jiana sometimes wondered if this was Jibbs’ and Kash’s idea of a joke – sending a small, quiet vampire into the blazing desert with this chatty tank of a man. But Brax’s sword and shield were second to none and his heart desired only good. Despite their differences, he was the perfect mentor.
Her name is Jiana Muse. At least that’s what she called herself as a little girl in the streets of Davon’s Watch. Her real name, as well as much of her childhood, was forgotten, perhaps intentionally. It was a name that sounded genteel, like the nobles who sometimes traveled through town on their way to important business, and who she had always admired from a distance. She’d watch them from the dusty shadows, learning to mimic their mannerisms and vocabulary. That’s why she chose the name for herself. It was like the name of a powerful queen.