Originally, this was three separate posts, but I feel like it makes sense to repost as one big post, given how immediately connected the three parts are. Also, I’m experimenting with re-ordering the three parts to see if it works better this way.
Copyright
J.B. Norman
“Oh dear,” Amara mutters as she steps into Kat’s bedroom. “It’s worse than I thought.”
A recent attempted heist at Porthaven’s Civic Art Gallery was stopped almost single-handedly by Kat, who heroically tackled the leader of the thieves off the roof and into the alley below. Though this brave act allowed for the thief’s apprehension and has led to Kat being lauded and feted as a luminary of the city, she suffered a broken leg as a consequence of her heroics.
And clearly, she is no adjusting well to life as an invalid.
Dunstana and Annie have been trying to keep Kat’s spirits up and her mind occupied on something other than her current sorry state. And, Amara notes, Kat does not seem to be taking to their attempts. Her skin is pale, her hair is dishevelled, and she has deep bags under her bloodshot eyes — she is clearly skirting the line between stir-crazy and properly crazy.
“Hello, Katherine,” Amara says as she approaches Kat’s bed.
“Sweet, loyal Amara,” Kat says, pulling her friend close. “True friend in true need.”
“Yes, yes,” Amara says, gently rubbing Kat’s back. “I love you, too, Katherine.”
“I’ve been so lonely,” Kat murmurs pitifully.
“Hey!” Dunstana exclaims.
“Pay her no mind, Dunstana,” Amara says. “I’m sure she’s very grateful to have such an attentive little sister looking out for her.”
“She’d better,” Dunstana mutters. “Or she can get her own dinners.”
“Katherine, my dear,” Amara offers, sitting on Kat’s bedside. “You need a hobby. Something to occupy your time while you’re stuck here in your room. Knitting, maybe. Crossword Puzzles. Or, uh, scrimshaw.”
Dunstana eagerly surges to her feet. “I’ve got just the thing! Annie, come help!”
Dunstana scurries out of the room with Annie following close behind and they return with a pile of boxes and books in her hands.
“We can play Coat of Plates!”
Kat rolls her eyes. “Dunstana, I don’t need to play a game about being an adventurer,” she protests. “I am an adventurer.”
“No, no, Katherine,” Amara says, putting a hand on Kat’s shoulder. “It sounds fun.”
“Great, let’s play,” Dunstana says, unfolding a map on the floor. “You’ll be the adventurers, and I’ll be the Dungeonarrator.”
“Fine,” Kat says.
“First thing we do is draw characters,” Dunstana explains, reaching into one of the boxes. “Kat, you get to be —”
Dunstana gives Annie a nudge with her elbow. Annie rolls her eyes and hums a little fanfare.
“Miriel of the Stars!” Dunstana exclaims, offering Kat a little figurine of an Elf woman in a robe. “She’s an Elf Thaumaturge who derives her powers from the light of the moon and stars.”
“That actually sounds kinda cool,” Kat mutters.
“And, Amara,” Dunstana says, reaching back into the box. “You Krimson Katja,” Dunstana explains. “You can tell she’s cool because they spell it with a K.”
Amara sceptically studies the figurine in her hand. The woman has long red hair, a confident expression on her face, and a rather impressive sword in her hands, though she only seems to be wearing one third of an outfit.
“Where are the rest of her clothes?” Amara asks, blushing fiercely. “Is she adventuring to the beach?”
She rolls her eyes.
“How vulgar. Clearly, this game was created by a man.”
Lately, Kat has been marvelling at the frankly frightening rapidity with which Amara has taken to Realmgard’s favourite miniature tabletop war game Coat of Plates. It’s only been a few weeks, but Amara’s obsession is already almost a match for Dunstana’s own.
By the same token, Kat is also amazed how quickly and thoroughly Amara has begun idolising the Krimson Katja character — doubly impressive for a character who she had previously denounced for her fashion choices of, in Amara’s own words, ‘wrought iron undergarments.’
So here they all are — Kat, Amara and Annie, now joined by Annie’s friend Sally Lyte — being Dungeonarrated through their adventure once again by Dunstana.
“For today’s adventure,” Dunstana explains. “You’ll all be venturing into the Depths of the Dungeons of Disideratus de Durandal. Basically, he’s an evil wizard and he’s doing evil stuff, and you have to stop him.”
“Isn’t that exactly what we did last time?” Kat asks.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Katherine,” Amara says.
Annie nods in agreement. “Technically, that last villain was a warlock.”
“Amara, you asked to be Krimson Katja again, so here’s you,” Dunstana says, setting down the figurine of the red-haired, eyebrow-raisingly clothed warrior woman.
“Splendid,” Amara declares at the prospect of once again playing the role of her new favourite fictional character. “What epic adventures we shall have together, Krimson Katja.”
“Maybe you should adventure to the tailor first,” Kat offers. “And buy her some real clothes.”
Amara glowers at her friend. “Yes, Katherine. Very, very droll,” she mutters. She shrugs. “It is what it is, I suppose.”
Dunstana reaches back into the box of characters. “And, Kat, you’ll be Dagobert von Face-Punch this time. He’s an expert in unarmed combat. And, um, punching faces.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy,” Kat notes.
“Me next! Me next!” Sally insists eagerly, as ever clutching her beloved stuffed rabbit close.
Dunstana sets down yet another figurine, a female Wilderling with long rabbit ears, a bow in her hands, and a quiver of arrows over her shoulder.
“Sally, you’re Hilda Harefoot. She’s a ranger. She’s, like, good at nature and stuff.”
Sally happily claps her hands.
“She’s a bunny! That’s perfect!”
She frowns thoughtfully and glances at her doll.
“Oh, but I hope Count Bunnyescu doesn’t get jealous.”
“What about me?” Annie asks.
“And Annie, you get to be —” Dunstana says, setting down the figurine on the map. “— Ronan Wayfarer.”
Annie’s character is a man — a very large man covered head-to-toe in heavy, sculpted armour made to look like muscles and holding a sword almost as big as he is.
Amara gazes down at this last figurine. Her eyes go wide. Her brow furrows. And she throws her hands up in bewilderment.
“Unbelievable!”
The others stare blankly at her.
“Look at this!” she exclaims. “Look! Of course, the man is wearing an entire suit of armour! I swear, I shall be writing letters over this. I am going to find the people behind this game — all of them men, no doubt — and give them a piece of my mind!”
“You know, Katherine,” Amara says, setting down her book and reaching for her teacup. “I’m actually quite enjoying this Krimson Katja character. I mean, it’s patently ridiculous that she’s galavanting around wearing nothing but wrought iron undergarments, but the stories themselves are quite compelling.”
She nods thoughtfully.
“I really should thank Dunstana for introducing me to that little board game of hers,” she says. “And we really should schedule another session. I really would enjoy seeing what other adventures we may end up having on the sacred ground of the tabletop.”
Amara picks the book back up and shows it off for Kat.
“This one for example, ‘Krimson Katja and the Sea-Fiends of Lake Limni’,” Amara says. “It’s only been eight paragraphs, but she’s already single-handedly defeated an entire gang of lake pirates.
“If they live in a lake, how are they Sea-Fiends?” Kat asks.
Amara rolls her eyes.
“Oh, Katherine, that’s precisely the sort of thing you can’t worry about when you’re reading Krimson Katja. It doesn’t matter why the Sea-Fiends live in a lake. All that matters is that they’re trying to eat people so Krimson Katja can set to her grim and deadly work chopping them up into little pieces to win the day!”
“This isn’t the sort of thing I’d expect you to be reading,” Kat notes.
Amara shrugs. “Well, we’re between Bridgewalltonshire Priory-s, and I must needs to find something to read to keep myself occupied,” she explains. “And, as it happens, the writer, this Howard R. Morton fellow happens to be quite prolific. Why, he’s written twenty-three new Krimson Katja stories this year alone!”
Amara thoughtfully touches her finger to her chin.
“And, well — bizarre, scandalous fashion choices aside, Krimson Katja is rather a remarkable woman, strong and fierce and independent and never in need of a man to rescue her,” Amara explains.
“And good at chopping Sea-Fiends into little pieces?” Kat offers.
“Well, yes,” Amara says with a nod. “It’s all quite thrilling. Such lavish language and striking turns of phrase!”
Amara gets that look in her eye. That bright light in her green eyes that lies somewhere between determination and mad obsession. Kat knows that look well. Clearly, Amara has decided that her current mission in life is to read her way through the entire Krimson Katja series.
She suddenly feels very, very sorry for the poor people working at the Porthaven Central Library. Especially, Powers forbid, the next Krimson Katja book is out on loan when Amara comes calling.
“I’m fine, by the way,” Kat mutters. “My leg’s all healed up now, thanks for asking.”
“And I am glad for that, Katherine,” Amara says. “But I can see for myself that you’re up and about and perfectly hale and hearty again. But it is always a delight to spend time with my oldest and dearest friend, regardless of her current health. Shall I read Krimson Katja for you, Katherine?”
“Will do you the voices?” Kat asks.
“Yes, Katherine. I’ll do the voices.”
The rest of my writing exercises are here. This scene is from August 2022.
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