#failee

The "ure" on the end is a stretch, in my opinion, but Failee is probably better than Hankboat, I'll edit the spreadsheet accordingly

...and to make this post a little less pointless, I'll do a session of Gnome's Failtopia Rarepair Propaganda for them.

Failee (Failboat/Hank | Lee):

Read from beginning

Heading back to the Downcastle plot, this segment is from Lea’s POV. This whole part of the story is really me working on writing group dynamics: developing unique characters and also working on those characters’ relationships between each other. Because of that, I’m really trying to give each character their own voice—and Lea’s wound up being unexpectedly snarky. Enjoy!

The only thing between them and the infinite wall of darkness in every direction was a single lantern, flickering in the center of the cart.

Good. Lea could finally relax.

She rested her sword on her knees and leaned back against the wooden wall of the cart, the soothing sound of creaking ropes and turning gears a familiar and comforting song. In front of her, crouched as close to the lantern as physically possible, Lex was weaving together a few dream-strands from the tangled mess of threads piled next to him. Ry, meanwhile, was attempting to start a staring contest with Failee, who was rejecting his attempts. Or not noticing them at all.

She was more concerned with staring out into the abyss, fingers clutching her tiny dagger with a white-knuckled intensity. Well, that was only gonna give her carpal tunnel.

“Hey, Failee,” Lea said.

The kid jumped, her dark hair whirling around her head as she spun to face Lea.

“What?” she asked, her voice gruff.

She could feel Ry’s glare on the side of her face. Whatever. He needed to get over his macho-man display (and what the hell was that anyway? Some kinda upcastle thing? Rah rah, I can harvest more corn than you, fear my biceps?)

“Relax. We won’t hit monster territory for another hour, and even then, they’ll probably leave us alone for at least another day. No need to turn your hand into a claw.”

Her fingers uncurled slightly. Still far too tense, but that was all the amateur egghunters. She’d get over it soon enough. Or she’d die.

“Really?” she asked. “I thought—they said as soon as we got into the pit the monsters—”

“Yeah, they tell that story to all the kids,” said Ry. “Keeps them outta the dreamweavers’ hair.”

“And what’d you know about what they tell kids?”

Ry bristled, opened his mouth to no doubt deliver what he thought was a cutting retort.

“Look—”

“Enough,” said Lex. He tied off a thread and let the half-finished dream fall into his lap. “Ry, why don’t you just tell her some of the stories they used to tell you in Farmland? I know they’re just as terrifying as what they say here.”

“Yeah, cause that’ll calm her down,” snorted Lea. Lex leveled her with an unimpressed look. “Oh, wait, were you trying to start a bonding moment? Sorry, I’ll shut up.”

“Not gonna happen,” Failee muttered, though she let her arm fall back to her side. Progress, if only a little. Ry just ducked his head and curled his hand into a fist. A flicker of gold shot up his arm, pinging his shoulder and running back down to his fingertips.

“What’re you doing?” Failee asked.

“Magic check, don’t worry about it,” Lex said. “He always does this on the way down?”

“Is he a warrior mage?” She sounded cautiously impressed

“Nah, that’d be me,” said Lea, waving a hand. “He’s our healer.”

“He’s a—”

Failee stared at him, her gaze unreadable. Worry shook in Lea’s stomach. Had she just ratcheted this nonsense rivalry up even more? Well, the kid had to find out that he was a healer eventually, it couldn’t be her fault.

“Are you alright?” Lex asked, because he was the sensible one.

“No, yeah, it’s nothing. Healer. Great.”

An awkward silence fell over the cart, and it was the complete, gravelike sort of silence that had Lex fidgeting nervously and Failee tensing up her hand again.

In this installment, we head downcastle and meet a new group of people. I’ve segmented Castle Veh into four distinct “zones,” and we will spend some time in all four of them. For now, meet four citizens of Lowcastle, ready to head down into the mines.

The air this far downcastle was stagnant, hung thick with silt and uncirculated smells. Ryan twitched and pulled the bandana closer to his face, in what he knew was a pointless gesture. He had gotten used to the slowly-spinning fire replacing the sunlight, had gotten used to the silence replacing the droning thrum of the outside world. But he had never gotten used to the smell, and he didn’t think he ever would.

He hefted his pickaxe over his shoulder and climbed into the ancient miner’s cart, all spattered with mold and lichen.

“Ry! Glad to have you back!” said Lex, tying down the week’s provisions. No one wanted to be trapped at the bottom of a hole with their food at the bottom of a deeper hole. “You our mage for this trip, then?”

“‘Fraid so,” said Ryan.

“Nice t’see you again, Ry,” said Lea. She was sitting calmly in the bottom of the cart, watching in amusement as the fourth member of their little group coiled and uncoiled a length of rope with nervous hands.

Dawncatcher, it was a kid.

“They’re sending them out younger and younger, ain’t they?” he asked, keeping his voice just at the edge of frostiness. A deliberate neutrality, Lea had described it, once.

“Ah, come of it. Relax. She’s a born fighter. If you weren’t laid up for a week you’d’ve seen what she did in the ring.”

“They’re putting kids in the ring now, too? Ain’t enough to send em down the hole?”

“No one put me anywhere,” the girl said. Her knuckles were going white around the tightly-coiled rope. “I signed up.”

“Uh uh,” Ryan said. He snatched the rope out of her hands. “Nah, you don’t decide nothing down here. The pit, the ring, those eggs down there, they own you.”

“I think I’ve lived here longer ‘n you,” she said. “You wanna lecture me ‘bout how things work up on the farms, be my guest. But until you can that stupid thing off your face, you don’t get to tell me anything.”

Lex laughed, a bit too shrill to be genuine, and clapped a hand down on Ryan’s back. He winced as a flare of pain shot across the cuts still itching their way to closure.

“Looks like you need to work on that accent, eh?” he said.

“Yeah,” Ryan muttered. “Looks like it.”

“You done protesting me?” the girl asked. She had stolen the rope back and was now looping it around her arm in a figure eight pattern.

“For now, or in general?”

She grinned and—

And those were the teeth of the beasts that sometimes slipped through the light cracks upcastle. His mom had always said that only prayer could keep those things back.

—and held out her hand, calm as you please, like she hadn’t just scared the blood out of Ryan’s heart.