Alright, time for a snippets dump. These are some more examples of my actual writing instead of just plot rambles.
This is from book one, the band is trying to break into a giant scorpion farm to run out the big corporation that illegally seized it:
As much as he appreciated Zhao for casting such a thorough and well-played invisibility spell, Dan quickly realized one major drawback to the plan. Perhaps none of the guards could see them… but neither could they see each other. He felt around blindly in the darkness, not able even to see his own arms held out in front of him. Dan didn’t dare call out to his friends, so he simply forged onward, hoping not to run into anyone.
So much for that. He immediately bumped into an invisible form and was lucky not to squawk with surprise. “Flora?” He whispered.
“No, it’s Zhao,” they whispered back, and patted around until they found his hand. They pulled him towards one of the rear barn doors, and slipped through. The two found themselves standing in a brightly lit room, staring at a group of off duty workers, card game forgotten on the table before a few, kettle boiling over in front of another, and all around open mouths and wide eyes as the farmers stared at the door which had seemingly opened on its own. An older farmer narrowed his eyes and twisted his hands together, pulling them apart again with a loud, magical whistling sound. A blast of wind erupted from his outstretched fingers, and dried out the invisibility spell. Dan and Zhao stood there, masked up like proper bandits, instruments in hand and looking mighty suspicious
“Er… Evenin’...” Dan attempted. “We’re, uh, here ta perform yer, uh, yer.. annual… review..” Zhao shook their head resignedly.
“Let’s just run, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The two bolted back out the door just as the farmers recovered themselves, one of them ringing a loud alarm bell as the rest poured out after the trespassers. Dan and Zhao ran for it, ducking behind a stack of wooden pallets to evade their pursuers. With Zhao breathing heavily, struggling not to cough, and Dan not necessarily needing to breath at all, they peeked out. Dan screeched when invisible hands grabbed at his shoulder.
“Dan.” José’s voice came from nowhere. “Ya suck at the sneakin’ thing. Is Flora with ya?”
“Thought she was with yew?”
“Nah, I got Johnny.” As if on cue, off in the distance they heard Flora’s distinct gravelly voice, invoking the Fate of destruction on her captors.
“Git yer filthy hands offa me! Swear to Efface I’ll tear yew sons of bitches to shreds, so help me, leggo’a’me! Jest lemme git my hands on my gun an’ yew’ll regret it!”
“Ah. There she is.” Johnny said.
