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Tales From The Myst Update: Halloween

cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
These stories have evolved through my Sims 4 gameplay. After getting Realm of Magic, I was inspired to create a fantasy tale of legendary beings living in an epic world. The backstory below was played out in my first save, which unfortunately died with my old computer, so there are no screenshots. I relate the story here as a retrospective, to set the stage for my current storyline, which is ongoing in my current save. I hope you enjoy it. If there's interest, I will continue to post self contained Myst stories in this topic.
Tales From The Myst

It was a cold, dark evening in Glimmerbrook. Ordinarily, the weather had little effect on Mage Morgyn Ember. But, on this late autumn day, he found himself lost in a reverie, his mood matching the gray skies over his ancestral home at Glimmerbrook Watch. Gazing from his tower window, he could barely see the soft glow of the Portal in the distance, and his thoughts returned to the time when he first arrived in this place, his mystical powers freshly manifested, wide eyed in wonder and bound for the Realm of Magic to learn the secrets of the life he had inherited from his ancestors. A lot had changed since then. Some things for the better. Many not.


It the years since he first entered the Magic Realm, Morgyn felt he had lived a lifetime. And on this gray and drizzly day, he was feeling particularly alone. Outwardly, he looked exactly the same as he did in his more carefree days. Barring a catastrophic event, he was basically immortal, as were all of his people. But catastrophic events did occur, had occurred, and could certainly occur again. The race that made the Realm their home, the race that shared knowledge of magic with the Spellcasters, the race whose very presence kept the world in balance. That race. Morgyn’s race. The Ancients... were no more.

Morgan sighed a bit as he descended to the second floor. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused to listen to a familiar sound emanating from his study. It sounded like a soft, singing bowl calling to him. He smiled, knowing he was being directed to something of significance. On entering the room, his attention was drawn to the side table, where an ancient tome seemed to be the source of the soft hum. Morgyn approached it, cautious, but ready for whatever wisdom it might impart.

The book was large, bound in weathered leather with a key attached by a silken cord. Morgyn picked it up, his fingers tracing the rune etched in the cover. It had been given to him by his stepmother on the day his powers first began to manifest. A gift. A relic of his people. Of his past. Of his future.

Hugging the volume to his chest, Morgan made his way downstairs to the living room. After fixing a pot of tea, he lit the fireplace to ward of the chill and curled up on his couch. Smudge, his cat and favorite familiar, joined him at the fire and his attention returned to the book. Once again, he reverently traced the ancient rune with his fingers. The book had already taught him so much and still had much to share; but stubbornly, it refused to yield its secrets until the time was right. Inserting the key in the book, Morgyn leaned forward as it began to shimmer and levitate, the scenes of his past passing before him in the golden glow of its pages.


His childhood. Cloistered and hidden away by gypsies who feared for his destruction during the First Magic Purge. Living a nomadic life with these humans as the only family he would ever know. Discovering who he truly was: an Ancient whose race was neither male nor female*, neither human nor spellcaster.

His youth: Living on his own in Mooncrest at a cottage long ago prepared for him by his people as he first began to clumsily explore his powers. Finally finding a place to call home and making lifelong friends among the collection of fairies, elves and spellcasters who lived there and welcomed him into their world.

His training: Arriving at the Magic Realm, wide-eyed and eager. Yearning to know as much as magic could teach him. Learning all branches of magic. Training with Tess in the ways of the untamed. Content to be the student, until one day the student became the master.

Sage of Untamed Magic: Imparting his own knowledge of magic to other eager spellcasters, alongside Simeon and L. Faba. Even though the second purge would eventually claim them, their memories live on in Morgyn’s thoughts and the joy of their friendship continues to grace the pages of his book.

The Second Purge: On the run. Forced into hiding as fear of magic gripped human society, propelling them to ever increasing violence and destruction. After many attempts at reconciliation and with the disappointment of many betrayals, the outcome finally became obvious and inevitable. Coexistence with humans would not be theirs.

The Myst: A new land. Their land. A magic land created by the association of all magic beings. Fairies, merfolk, elves, gnomes, and others, living in relative peace with sympathetic humans, separated from the human world by a mist that cannot be penetrated by human effort or science. Even so, they, the humans, continue to try.

As the pages of the tome closed and it gently dropped into Morgyn’s hands, he thoughtfully leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. The Myst now had a government, but in its young state it still needed to grow and did not yet represent everyone. The Spirit World was petitioning for separate representation and some of the cursed citizens of Forgotten Hollow were interested in annexation into The Myst. Debates and opinions on all sides were strong. As a Mage, the last of The Ancients, Morgyn had the privilege of position. But, along with privilege and power comes responsibility. Something the Mage was feeling very strongly these days.


Morgyn leaned forward to pour another cup of tea. As he cradled the cup in his hand, the steam slowly circling above the rim, he thought about the images the book had shown him. So much was lost in the past. But so much of the future of The Myst was yet to be realized. Silently, he banked the fire and made his way to bed. As sleep settled like a blanket over his mind, he began to realize the wisdom the book was trying to impart.


It was simple, really. In the end, you can never forget where you came from. But you must always remember where you’re going.

*In these stories, Morgyn can be considered androgynous and asexual. I believe this maintains some consistency with his programming in game. I do use the gender reference “he” however, because my Morgyn does lean slightly masculine and I don’t think Morgyn really cares, one way or the other.
Post edited by cyncie on


  • SnowBnuuySnowBnuuy Posts: 1,322 Member
    I’ve been waiting for a new narrative-style fantasy-type story to come around on here. Excellent : 3
    Off to a good start, Morgyn is one of my favourite premades so good to see them in something new! I always love seeing what lore people build on top of the Realm of Magic stuff and I like the idea of Morgyn being one of an ancient race of people. The sheer detail of the lore already is really good. The setup of the spellcaster purges is interesting. Makes me wonder how soon the next purge will be, and if Morgyn and the others will be prepared…X_X

    Yep, that’s exactly what the humans would do to the magic-types. Telling a whole group of people they don’t belong and trying to purge them…so these people and fae etc. create their own space in the Myst, away from the moaners- then suddenly humans want in because they feel excluded! I just hope no human manages to breach the barrier.
    they/them or she/her - remember to only support ethical CC creators! - QpGHgt3.png
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    edited November 2021
    SnowBnuuy wrote: »
    I’ve been waiting for a new narrative-style fantasy-type story to come around on here. Excellent : 3
    Off to a good start, Morgyn is one of my favourite premades so good to see them in something new! I always love seeing what lore people build on top of the Realm of Magic stuff and I like the idea of Morgyn being one of an ancient race of people. The sheer detail of the lore already is really good. The setup of the spellcaster purges is interesting. Makes me wonder how soon the next purge will be, and if Morgyn and the others will be prepared…X_X

    Yep, that’s exactly what the humans would do to the magic-types. Telling a whole group of people they don’t belong and trying to purge them…so these people and fae etc. create their own space in the Myst, away from the moaners- then suddenly humans want in because they feel excluded! I just hope no human manages to breach the barrier.

    Thanks for the positive words and encouragement. Morgyn is probably my favorite of all the premades in S4. Usually I play original characters, but this potential Morgyn arc changed that for this game. Strangely enough, most of my supporting characters are also premades this time around. As we go, we'll see more of life in The Myst from their perspectives.

  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    edited November 2021
    Tales From The Myst
    Of Boats And Ballots

    Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry, or just Guidry as his friends and exes usually called him, grimaced as his alarm went off. Floating over to the ancient mantle clock, he silenced the tinkle of the little brass bell, and crossed his arms in thought.

    He knew he should honor his obligation and attend the meeting with George Albert. He just wasn't sure he wanted to do so. Guidry didn't know why his friend had invited him over, but he had heard rumors. Sometimes, he thought, it's best to not rock the boat. After all, he was an expert. Guidry had rocked enough boats in his life to know you could eventually go down with one.


    For years Guidry happily made his living (with living being the operative word) on the willow draped banks of the river that ran through the aptly named Willow Creek. Plying his trade crewing a river boat with a nice little "paranormal investigator" gig on the side, he had managed to live a comfortable, if not necessarily elaborate, lifestyle. He was able to meet his needs and even enjoyed some of life's finer pleasures. And Guidry did love the finer things in life. Art. Good food. The ladies. Especially the ladies.

    A shudder rolled through him at the thought of one particular paramour. Yes, some boats were best left un-rocked. The fateful combination of a woman scorned and an allegedly malfunctioning Murphy bed had embarrassingly proved to be Guidry's final undoing.

    And, as fate would have it, there was also a problem with being a "paranormal investigator" in life. It makes you distinctly unpopular with your peers in death. And yet, the affable and ever resourceful Guidry had managed to make even that work for him by guiding paranormal hobbyists interested in making contact with the "other side." All still very satisfying until The Second Purge. Suddenly the hobbyists became serious ghost exterminators and Guidry quickly found himself a target of those he had trained. Realizing his boat was in danger of capsizing, he immediately began applying for relocation to the newly created Myst.

    Still deep in thought, Guidry wandered into the bathroom to take a shower. Not that it matters when you're dead, but Guidry found that maintaining some semblance of living helped him to cope with the fact that he wasn't. So he showered, ate a bowl of cereal he couldn't taste, then headed out to his meeting.

    George Albert was one of the first friends Guidry made when he relocated to Mooncrest. In life, he had been a jovial man, running his own fishing business in Brindleton Bay and living a successful life with his lovely wife and two children. Tragically, the whole family was killed in a house fire. They relocated during the purge and were now dwelling on the outskirts of town in the local cemetery. Most relocations to The Myst wound up in Mooncrest, which proved to be a delightfully modern and supernaturally diverse city. There were numerous housing choices for spirits, mostly fixer uppers like Guidry's, so George's decision to drop his family into a stereotypically haunted graveyard baffled his friend. Guidry always suspected the manner of their demise had something to do with it.

    "Hey there, Bub!" George called, his Brindleton accent sneaking through as he drifted through the tombstones.

    "George! How's the wife?" Guidry politely responded, as they shook hands.

    George's eyes shifted to Guidry's almost perpetual flirty pink aura. "Like I'd tell you," he laughed.

    “Means nothing!" Guidry exclaimed, as he waved a dismissive hand. Darned aura. You can't hide anything when you're dead.


    The two friends exchanged small talk for a few minutes in the autumn chill before retiring to the Albert living quarters located below the cemetery chapel. After politely offering some unnecessary refreshments, George settled down to business.

    "So, how do you stand on Spirit Rights, Guidry?"

    "Excuse me. What?" Guidry was being deliberately obtuse.

    "Spirit Rights. It's a movement."

    "Movement? Where? We just got here a few years ago."

    "Not where... what. It's advocacy, Guidry. Some of us feel we need better representation in the assembly."

    Ah yes. The Mystic Assembly. The institutional apparatus that allowed the citizens of The Myst to represent themselves in a governing body. Delegates from each region are appointed to vote in the assembly with the Council of All Magic presiding over the proceedings.

    "Aren't we already represented by the Mooncrest delegates?" Guidry asked.

    "Sure. And the Island Spirits are represented by the Sulani delegates. But the needs of the non corporeal are different from the needs of the living. We need specialized representation."

    "For what?"

    "Votes, Guidry! Votes! Dead people should have a vote!"

    Guidry chuckled. "Eh. They've been doing that in Willow Creek for centuries. So I'm told."

    George was becoming exasperated. "I'm not talking about ballot stuffing, here. I'm talking about real votes! Why wasn't The Myst open to spirits from the very start? Why is your house a fixer-upper? Why didn't you get one of those nice, new apartments on Magnolia? You know why? Cause you're dead, and dead don't count."

    Guidry's brow furrowed in thought as he munched on the tasteless potato chips. George had a point. Spirit beings were definitely not the top priority in The Myst, any more than they had been a priority anywhere else. It did seem odd in a place that owed its existence to persecution of the unknown. Not that anyone was actively persecuted, here. But still. On arriving at The Myst, Guidry had uncharacteristically accepted his place in the scheme of things and never really thought about the possibility it could be changed. You know. Boats and all.

    "So. What are you suggesting?" he asked.

    That was all the encouragement George needed. With a flourish he produced a notebook in which were recorded some of his thoughts on how the Spirit Coalition, as he called their "movement," could become a functioning voting block in the assembly. As Guidry poured over the handwritten outline, an unexpected feeling began to rise up inside. For the first time since coming to The Myst, he felt as though his existence could have a purpose other than just pretending to live.


    Guidry and George eagerly spent the whole night refining and revising the outline. They took it apart and put it back together. They debated the pros and cons of every concept and parsed phrases for every nuance. Guidry's inspiration grew and even when George's attractive wife returned home with the children, the usually flirtatious ghost remained inspired and undistracted, without even a tinge of pink in his aura. As dawn began to break, the two friends leaned back in their chairs, finally satisfied. The Guidry-Albert proposal was ready to present to the assembly.

    "You'll have to select the right time to present it," Guidry said, as he rose to leave and the two began making their way to the surface.

    "Me? I'm not presenting it."

    Guidry stopped and turned to face his friend. "Who is?"

    George chuckled. "Well, Guidry. There's a reason the coalition wanted you on board. Most people like you."

    Guidry was stupified. "Yeah. People like me. Former people, not so much."

    George shook his head. "Nope. If there's one thing that Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry has in spades, it's charisma. And we need someone representing us that the living like. Anyone else who holds a grudge over that whole "paranormal investigator" thing will just have to keep holding on to it, because it's not getting any traction here."

    Guidry was nonplussed. Helping to draft the proposal was one thing. Putting his name on it was a huge other thing. But, actually being the one to present it to the assembly? Well, that seemed like a boat issue to Guidry.

    "And, if I say 'no'?"

    George shrugged. "Someone less well liked will present it. People will be less open to it. It'll be a dead issue. Just like us."

    Guidry sighed as he glanced around the graveyard. The sunrise was filtering through the trees, the light playing little patterns on the granite tombstone markers of lives gone before. Some of those beings were now aimlessly wandering The Myst. Others had already crossed. Some, like Guidry, were hoping for more from their current existence. From the chapel, he heard the tinkling laughter of George's children at play and realized his friend was right. They did deserve a better place in the world.


    Guidry's glance caught George's. With a nod of assent, he held out his hand. As George handed him the notebook, he studied his friend's expression.

    "How are you feeling?" he asked.

    Guidry carefully tucked the notebook into his coat, and putting on his most charming smile, dispelled his friend's concern with a jaunty tip of his hat.

    "Frankly? A little seasick, my friend. Just a little seasick.”

  • _sims_Yimi_sims_Yimi Posts: 1,622 Member
    Hi cyncie! 😁 I noticed this the other day but didn't get a chance to comment until now. You've got an interesting setting with the Myst!
    It’s so interesting to see all the different ways that Morgyn gets interpreted across the forums 😊 I like the idea of a safe haven for everything supernatural. It’s so sad that he is the last of his kind, though. That must be lonely.

    Oooh, I’ll admit I did not think about ghost rights, either. My first thought was “but they don’t actually need to sleep or eat or take care of themselves, so why would they need a nice apartment over someone that is still living?” but if you flip the perspective around, of course they’d want to be treated better. That’s very interesting. Hm. I wonder what will come of it.
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    _sims_Yimi wrote: »
    Hi cyncie! 😁 I noticed this the other day but didn't get a chance to comment until now. You've got an interesting setting with the Myst!
    It’s so interesting to see all the different ways that Morgyn gets interpreted across the forums 😊 I like the idea of a safe haven for everything supernatural. It’s so sad that he is the last of his kind, though. That must be lonely.

    Oooh, I’ll admit I did not think about ghost rights, either. My first thought was “but they don’t actually need to sleep or eat or take care of themselves, so why would they need a nice apartment over someone that is still living?” but if you flip the perspective around, of course they’d want to be treated better. That’s very interesting. Hm. I wonder what will come of it.

    Thank you so much for reading and commenting! I’ve got a lot of catching up to do on all of the creative efforts here.

    This whole thing represents a bit of a change of approach for me. I usually create characters, set up an environment and supporting cast, then play through to the conclusion of a story arc. Premades are usually just part of the surroundings. When I got ROM, I saw in Morgyn the potential for a fantasy quest character, and pulled him out to play that through. I decided to play it out with mostly premades or lore families in the main roles. I set a rule for myself that I wouldn’t drastically remake any of them and would just expand on the existing character personality and history to support the story. So I didn’t alter Morgyn’s base programming or give him a drastic makeover. I just gave him context that fit with the tale I wanted to tell.

    Morgyn’s retrospective above, otherwise known as a Myst info dump 😀, was actually the result of almost a year’s play through with this set up. It was definitely about Morgyn’s personal journey. As that arc was concluding with the creation of The Myst, my computer died and took it with it. So I reset the story for a new game and have now fully created and populated The Myst. The stories now will be about the various beings trying to make a life there.

    I hope you continue to enjoy them.

  • SnowBnuuySnowBnuuy Posts: 1,322 Member
    Second chapter:
    Ghosts advocating for themselves is an interesting idea actually. It’s kind of sad that they need Guidry to speak for them because the living like him; It’s sad because people don’t care about others’ rights unless that person is, or makes themselves, palatable to the majority- And even if you do make yourself palatable, people just take the comfort from that and give you nothing in return. With any luck the living will start taking them seriously, otherwise who knows what the ghosts will have to do to get what they want?
    they/them or she/her - remember to only support ethical CC creators! - QpGHgt3.png
  • haneulhaneul Posts: 1,502 Member
    Sorry you lost your original save, but it's nice to see that you have something new that can now flourish almost phoenix-like from that. Your concept of The Myst is interesting. I'm curious to see who else has made The Myst their home. Best of luck to the ghosts. I wonder if there was any malicious intent behind their lack of representation or if they were just overlooked.

    I usually avoid premades, so sometimes I don't even recognize them in others' stories, but I'm familiar with both Guidry and Morgyn, and I really like your take on Guidry.
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    SnowBnuuy wrote: »
    Second chapter:
    Ghosts advocating for themselves is an interesting idea actually. It’s kind of sad that they need Guidry to speak for them because the living like him; It’s sad because people don’t care about others’ rights unless that person is, or makes themselves, palatable to the majority- And even if you do make yourself palatable, people just take the comfort from that and give you nothing in return. With any luck the living will start taking them seriously, otherwise who knows what the ghosts will have to do to get what they want?

    haneul wrote: »
    Sorry you lost your original save, but it's nice to see that you have something new that can now flourish almost phoenix-like from that. Your concept of The Myst is interesting. I'm curious to see who else has made The Myst their home. Best of luck to the ghosts. I wonder if there was any malicious intent behind their lack of representation or if they were just overlooked.

    I usually avoid premades, so sometimes I don't even recognize them in others' stories, but I'm familiar with both Guidry and Morgyn, and I really like your take on Guidry.

    Thanks to both of you for reading and commenting. I think there are several groups trying to be heard in The Myst right now.
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    So, my game this week has been creating a bit of a bromance between Guidry and Morgyn. Nothing flirtatious, just a lot of autonomously hanging out. Guidry was not in the original save that set up The Myst story, so this is a bit of a retcon to explore his friendship with Morgyn. Sorry about the pics not being the best. I was having camera problems tonight.

    Tales From The Myst
    Being Needed

    Morgan Ember trudged wearily up the stairs to his bedroom on the second floor of his home in Glimmerbrook, exhausted from three straight days of meetings with the Council of All Magic.


    They were meeting in preparation for The Mystic Assembly, attempting to get ahead of some of the issues that were bound to be presented. The Council spent long hours reviewing sheaves of documents on everything from allied nation status for merfolk who don't live in Sulani (and how do you even appoint an ambassador to that position?) to development of guidelines for crossing the “border” between The Myst and the neutral zone of San Myshuno. Morgyn wasn't a voting member of the Council, but as the last Mage, his presence was required at all meetings. He also held the Right of Privilege which could override a decision and send it back into review. It was a lot of responsibility and he took his job seriously. But right now, the only thing he wanted was rest.


    Morgyn changed into his most comfortable sleepwear, a silky muumuu a friend had gifted him for Winterfest, slipped between the sheets and quickly fell into much needed and yearned for slumber. Which is why he was not amused to be awakened an hour later by loud banging and the sound of a spectral voice.

    “Ghosts,” he muttered into his pillow. “No sense of personal boundaries.”

    Morgyn grabbed a large cushion and pressed it over his head to drown out the sound of the things that go bump in the night. You get used to this kind of thing in The Myst, so he wasn't alarmed. Visiting spirits generally meant no harm, although they were prone to break things. Morgyn figured he'd just stay where he was and clean up any messes they make in the morning. After a few minutes, things finally became quiet and Morgyn was about to doze back off when a familiar voice whispered his name from just beside the bed.


    Morgyn groaned. “Guidry. Please.”

    “Is there anything I can do for you?”

    “Yes. You can go away.”

    There was a soft chuckle. “You know this is not happening.”

    Morgyn sighed and pulled the pillow from his face. Guidry sat on the floor, arms resting on the bed, his chin propped on one hand.

    Guidry smiled. “You look very peaceful when you are asleep.”

    “Great. Go away and I'll become positively angelic.”

    Guidry shook his head. “No. There are things to do...”


    Morgyn sat up in the bed and surveyed his visitor who was now pacing a bit aimlessly around his room. If there was one thing he knew about his ghostly friend it was that Guidry, in spite of his devil may care attitude, was driven by a profound need to be helpful.

    “Well, there's the trash...” Morgyn began.

    “Bagged it up and took it out.”

    “The kitchen counters...”


    “The cat...”

    “Fed, brushed and litter cleaned. You need a new kitty dazzler.”

    Morgyn sighed. “You have a strange way of haunting a house, my friend. Really, there's not much mess. The only thing I've done this week is read.”

    “Books!” Guidry boisterously exclaimed. “I'll pick up all the books!”

    As Guidry disappeared from the room, Morgan sank face down into his pillows and closed his eyes, thinking this last effort would surely satisfy his friend. He was wrong.


    Morgyn resignedly rolled over and sat back up, noting a change in his friend's usually jaunty tone of voice. Guidry was sitting perched on the side of the bed, his brow furrowed in thought.


    “What?” Morgyn asked.

    “We are friends, no?”

    “Yes. Of course.”

    Morgyn's association with Guidry went back to before The Myst was formed, even back to before The Purge. In fact, The Purge just further cemented their already amicable friendship. When Morgyn found himself on the run, trapped in the bogs of Willow Creek by President Bragg's Spellcaster Assimilation Squad , it was Guidry who found him and gave him shelter until he could get to the safety of Silvan Glades. In return, when Guidry found himself on the wrong side of the Paranormal Hunters, Morgyn used his influence and fast tracked Guidry's application for relocation to The Myst. So yes. Of course they were friends, even if one of them did like to show up at inconvenient hours to clean house.

    “So, since were are friends, you would not mind giving some advice?” Guidry seemed uncharacteristically hesitant.

    “No. Not at all.”

    After a moment of silent thought, Guidry continued.

    “So. Let's say you aren't very important. I mean, not you. You are important. But, somebody...not not very important.”


    “And, let's say this somebody has to do an important thing.”


    “And, let's say this important thing could make a big difference to others who aren't important, either.”

    “Of course.”

    Guidry pressed on, determined. “What advice would you, an important person, give to this unimportant somebody who does not want to mess this up?”

    Morgyn hid a smile. After three days of reviewing documents, he knew exactly which “important thing” his importantly “unimportant” friend was referring to. The Spirit Rights issue was a tricky one. Relocation to The Myst had been a bit haphazard, due to the emergency nature of the circumstances, and unfortunately spirit inclusion and ghostly needs had been something of an afterthought. Add in centuries of conditioned fear, and the situation became a bit more touchy. Correcting those mistakes would take some time, re-education, and bit more insight into what those ghostly needs actually are. But, the Council was willing to take the initial steps if the Assembly could be convinced.

    Morgyn leaned forward. Catching his friend's gaze he gave him his most reassuring smile. “I would tell “somebody” that we are all important in our own way, and I would suggest maybe his focus should be on the simple fact that we all just need to be needed.”


    Guidry blinked a few times. A smile began to play over his lips and he did a little spin around the room as he mulled over his friend's words.

    “Yes! Of course! That is the real issue, isn't it?”

    “I think so.”

    “Because, it's not about the houses or the things... is it?”

    “Uh-uh,” Morgyn drowsily managed.

    “It's about being a real part of the community.”


    “Valued. Needed.”

    “Umm-hmmm, “ Morgyn muttered, as his eyes began to involuntarily close.

    Guidry stopped his roaming to regard his friend. With a frown, he shook his head and wagged his finger. “You know, you should really get some sleep. You don't look so good.”

    At that, Morgyn roused up, pillow in hand, and launched it across the room. He watched as it sailed right through his non-corporeal friend and landed with a thud against the wall.

    “Mind picking that up?” he asked.

    “Sorry. I can't. I must go. I've got a speech to write,” Guidry happily replied as he drifted toward the door.

    “But, Morgyn?”


    “That's a very attractive gown you have on.”


    Morgyn growled, hefted another pillow, then thought better of it. He'd just have to pick it up and would have one less soft spot on which to lay his head. Guidry chuckled at his friend's reaction and with a jaunty tip of his hat and a wink, faded back into the walls and out of sight.

    With an exasperated grunt, Morgyn sank back into the blissful comfort of his bedding. Pulling the blankets over his head, he was gratefully...finally... going to get some much needed peace and quiet.

    “Ghosts,” he thought, as his well deserved rest finally began to claim him. “No boundaries. No boundaries at all.”


  • haneulhaneul Posts: 1,502 Member
    Good update. :)
    I'm repeating myself but I like your portrayal of Guidry quite a bit. I feel for him because it seems like (and correct me if I'm wrong) he either doesn't fully trust Morgyn or he's internalized his society's negative feelings towards ghosts. It was sad that he felt the need to describe the issue and his fellow ghosts as unimportant when they're clearly important to him (even though he did say that he had an important thing to do - which is a start?). I hope that he and Morgyn are able to become less apologetic about their troubles, and just say that what they care about is important, without adding caveats like "in its own way."
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    edited November 2021
    @haneul Thanks for commenting!

    I do think Guidry has come to believe that his current state is lacking in status and worth and he struggles with that. Guidry is new to my game, and I'm just now beginning to explore his character. I get the impression from the lore we have in game that he's from a well-to-do family on his mother's (Duplantier) side, but there's some family scandal that has put him in the position of being a bit of a black sheep. Perhaps momma married beneath her? I've been trying to bring some of that in, with his past feelings being amplified by his current situation. I believe Guidry is a Cajun name, so I'm also trying to establish a bit of that in his character "voice" with the old school southern, sometimes self deprecating, manners and charm.

    As for Morgyn, he's powerful and he knows it. He struggles sometimes with the extent of that power and how to keep it in balance. We haven't seen much of that yet, but I'm sure we will.

    As an exercise, I'm writing a more extensive backstory for Morgyn and Guidry's first meeting to get a better handle on Guidry and how their characters need to interact. I probably won't post it, but hopefully you'll see character development coming from it.
  • _sims_Yimi_sims_Yimi Posts: 1,622 Member
    Ghostly business or no ghostly business, disturbing a person’s sleep is just plain rude, Guidry. Even if you’re a helpful haunting ghost. 😂That’s some insightful advice he offered there. It’s never really about the things – it’s about the emotions and feelings that lie underneath. Guidry telling Morgyn that he needed some sleep, when he’s the one that was keeping him awake, made me laugh.
  • SnowBnuuySnowBnuuy Posts: 1,322 Member
    I am really liking this take on the premades, especially the way you write the dialogue.
    I agree Guidry, that gown is adorable. Guidry you are not unimportant I promise ;-; I like that Guidry gave Morgyn a helping hand in the past. I’m sure Morgyn will do what he can to help Guidry’s people too ~
    they/them or she/her - remember to only support ethical CC creators! - QpGHgt3.png
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    @_sims_Yimi @SnowBnuuy thanks for reading and the kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    edited November 2021
    I know I've been posting pretty frequently in this, but I promise it will slow down a bit now. The stories have caught up with my gameplay, so I need to spend some time in game before I do anything else.

    This is not technically a "Tale From The Myst." This started as a character development exercise for Guidry and Morgyn. I wanted to see both characters in weakness and strength to establish as basis for their friendship, since the game keeps putting them together. It turned out to be a not-too-bad story, so even though it's rough, I decided to post it.

    It is set during the time before The Myst, just prior to the Second Spellcaster Purge and explores Morgyn's first meeting with Guidry. It's all narrative, since there was no game play involved. It's also kind of long. I hope you enjoy it.

    Edit: fixed format problems



    Morgyn stumbled his way through the dense foliage of the swamp lands on the outskirts of Willow Creek. In the distance, he could hear the crashing footsteps of Bragg's Spellcaster Assimilation Unit in pursuit. They called it “assimilation.” Bragg insisted that Spellcasters were rogues with dangerous powers who needed to be retrained to be functioning citizens in the human world. But, everyone new that “assimilation” really meant “elimination.” And, the most powerful of the Spellcasters, the Sages of the Magic Realm, were a particular target. After being lured from the protections of The Realm by a promise of peace, Morgyn and the other Sages soon discovered it was nothing but a trap. The document of reconciliation they were supposed to be signing did not exist, and now they were on the run.

    Morgyn had no idea where Simeon and L. were. He hoped they were able to find a refuge. Staying out of The Realm was the only way to maintain the balance of magic, at this point, so it would be a while before they could return. Unfortunately, the rest of the world had proved to be disappointingly hostile.

    Morgyn now found himself trying to get to the tree that marked the secret entrance to Sylvan Glade. Musette and the other Faerie-folk had offered him safety there. The entire swamp and most of Willow Creek were under surveillance. Travel for a spellcaster shouldn't be a problem, even though murky swamps, but use of magic was impossible. The SAU had magic detecting, tracing and neutralizing devices, developed through a cooperative betrayal by the Sixams. These devices would pinpoint and track his location if even the smallest spell was used. Even if Morgyn could use magic to quickly get away, the tracers would be able to locate his end point, and he could not risk giving away the secret entrance to Silvan Glade. His only option was to travel on foot.

    Morgyn was exhausted, nasty and hungry. By his reckoning, the Mystic Tree was still miles away from his location and there was no sign that the SAU was going to relax their search for him. Morgyn was the Sage of Untamed Magic and an Ancient, at that. He was powerful. He was considered a threat. And, he would not fare well if he fell into their hands.

    Morgyn groaned as every muscle in his body screamed for relief. It was growing dark and the voices and lights that pursued him were growing more distant. The search would be halted for a bit while a relief unit came in. The reprieve would not be long, but at least he would be able to get some rest.

    Morgyn surveyed the area, looking for a potential resting spot. Spotting a close stand of three cypress trees, he sloshed through the waters, and pushing aside the canopy of Spanish Moss, pulled himself up into a crevice formed by the trunks. With a heavy sign, he fell asleep.

    “You know, that's not a bad place to hide for a while. But these swamps are no place to go when you really need a good rest.”

    Morgyn jolted awake and found himself staring at pink, smiling apparition. The young man was dressed in a smart but casual style reminiscent of a time gone by, with a boater hat perched jauntily on his head.

    “You're a ghost,” Morgyn said, bluntly.

    “This is true. And, you are a spellcaster.”

    “How do you know?”

    “Your entourage.”

    Morgyn could hear the activity of his hunters ramping up in the distance. “Right. I suppose I'd better start moving, again.”

    Morgyn clambered out of his hiding place and with great effort attempted to resume his journey. His feet heavy with fatigue, he tripped on a root and fell face down in the murky mud of the bog. With a groan, he pulled himself up, dripping with mud, and hobbled to a nearby tree stump, where he sat massaging his rapidly swelling knee. He was a bit dismayed to discover that his new acquaintance was still lurking about.

    “Where are you headed?” his companion asked.

    “That is not your business,” Morgyn grumpily retorted.

    “You are correct. It is not. But sometimes it is beneficial to share information to gain assistance. Even for Morgyn Ember.”

    Morgyn's head snapped up at the mention of his own name. “You know me?”

    His companion shrugged. “Oh, everyone knows you. You are a star... on the news. Not a flattering photo, I must say.”

    The Mage's usual confidence had taken its last hit for the day. He buried his head in his hands. “Well, that's it, then. I can't use magic. I'm exhausted. I'm dirty and hungry. I can't walk on this busted knee. And now, the whole world is looking for me. I'll probably just die here in this swamp.”

    The spirit laughed. “No, no. The swamp won't kill you.”

    “You don't think?”

    “No. The gators will.”

    Morgyn glared at the still smiling apparition and considered if the consequences for using his powers might actually be worth it right now. Reluctantly, he decided that this ghost with the flirty aura, who apparently wanted to be his assistant in some way, might actually have a point.

    “I have friends in Willow Creek,” Morgyn offered. “They can provide safety, but I have to get there, first.”

    “Ah. Well, first you have to stay alive. And, that is where I come in.”

    “Really. What do you suggest?”

    The ghostly companion came to hover beside him, flashing a reassuring smile. “I feel as though I've been rude. Allow me to introduce myself. Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry, at your service. And I propose,” he said, gesturing to the stand of trees that had just provided Morgyn's shelter, “a change of accommodations.”

    Morgyn stood outside the ramshackle hut, trying to appraise its relative usefulness. Located deep in the swamp, it was definitely well hidden. The question was, how long could it remain standing.

    Morgyn and his new associate had made very slow progress but nevertheless managed to travel into the darkest depths of the swamp. Morgyn had to stop for frequent breaks due to his injury, but Guidry kept the SAU moving away from their location through a series of deceptive distractions and redirections. While the SAU were going around in circles, Morgyn and his guide found their way to this isolated spot and this broken-down cottage. Morgyn had to admit, the debonair spirit had been a great help.

    “Where have you brought me, Mr. Guidry?” Morgyn asked.

    “No, no. Just Guidry, please.”

    “All right, Guidry. What is this place?”

    “Well, it depends on who you ask. Some say it once belonged to a voodoo queen who pronounced a curse on all who enter. Others say it's the home of the swamp monster.”


    “Still others say it's haunted. I have no idea where that last one comes from,” he said, with a wink. “But, no matter which legend you choose to believe the fact is, no one ever comes here.”

    “Do you live here?”

    “Absolutely not!” Guidry exclaimed, with mock offense. “It's my summer home.”

    Morgyn managed a little laugh.

    “Ah, that's better,” Guidry smiled. “Let's get you comfortable.”

    As Guidry floated through the wall, Morgyn gingerly pushed open the wooden door that seemed to be hanging from a single hinge and let himself inside.

    The hut was dimly lit by the small amount of sunlight that was able to filter through the overhanging vegetation. Morgyn found it surprisingly spacious with a large living area, complete with a dusty sofa and armchair. A fireplace was situated at one end with a kettle suspended across the pit for cooking and crafting. A second room contained a large iron bedstead and a small bath/water closet. From the rafters hung herbs, dried fruit and vegetables. Other dried goods were stored in the loft, which also held a small cot. Even though it had been abandoned years ago, the little hut was definitely a survivor.

    “Your sanctuary awaits, Mage Ember. What do you think?”

    “Well, I think...” Morgyn broke off as the room began to swim around him. He grabbed the arm of the sofa and swayed, the fatigue and pain finally overtaking him.

    “No, no!” he heard Guidry's urgent voice beside him. “Not yet. We must get you cleaned up and fed.”

    Morgyn collapsed on the sofa in a cloud of dust as the world sank around him. “Too late,” he muttered.

    He awoke to the warmth of a fire and the aroma of something incredible cooking over the crackling fireplace. What is that delicious smell? he thought.

    “Ah. Gumbo. Family recipe.”

    Morgyn confusedly propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze searching for the speaker. When his weary eyes finally focused on his host, they narrowed in suspicion.

    “Don't worry,” Guidry laughed. “No Sixam mind probe, here. You were talking in your sleep. Something, something, morphiate... something inferniate. Sounds as if you were working through a few things. So, Mage Morgyn Ember-- bath first--gumbo second. Now go.”

    Morgyn wasn't used to being hovered over, either figuratively or literally. But frankly, at the moment, he was grateful for the care and attention. He limped his way to the rustic, primitive bath where a large kettle of hot water awaited him. Pouring it into the tub, he lowered himself in and with the homemade soap, scrubbed away the grime of the last few days. He emerged dressed in a simple shirt and drawstring pants that Guidry had left there. They were a bit dusty, but still a vast improvement over the swamp caked clothing he came in with. Settling down at the roughhewn table, he devoured two bowls of Guidry's excellent gumbo before finally coming up for air. He leaned back in his chair, a mug of tea in hand, and inquisitively tilted his head as he met the gaze of his host.

    “Duplantier? There's a Duplantier Home in Willow Creek.”

    “Is there?” Guidry replied, evasively. “I had not noticed.”

    “It's a very nice place. You can't miss it. Old and elegant. Abandoned now, I believe.” Morgyn was watching Guidry closely. “You wouldn't have a connection there, would you?”

    Guidry shrugged. “I have a connection to many things. I led a rather, um, checkered life.”

    “I see. So, what about now? What do you do now, Mr. Guidry?” Morgyn asked, with a faint smile.

    “Right now? I am entertaining my new friend in the elegance of my summer home.”

    Morgyn laughed. It could not be denied that this particular specter had a certain je ne se quois. “Well,” he replied, with sincerity. “Your new friend is definitely grateful.”

    “Yes?” Guidry seemed genuinely pleased. “Then I am glad.”

    They passed the days pleasantly enough while waiting for Morgyn's knee to heal. Guidry found some books in the loft and supplied Morgyn with a stack of them and Morgyn took over cooking his own meals. Guidry would come and go, keeping an eye on the search efforts and sometimes bringing in things he found or scavenged from the swamp. Morgyn got the distinct impression he was glad for the company and perhaps even happy for something meaningful to do. Guidry even shared his prized possession with Morgyn; a photo album from his formerly physical life.

    “So, is this your family?”

    “Yes,” Guidry softly replied. “My mother and father. This is all I have of them. I was very young when they...” Guidry broke off. “Well. I'm sure they've crossed over by now.”

    As Morgyn carefully turned the pages of the now fragile album, Guidry described each memory. Scenes of places visited, jobs engaged in, friendships shared and loves won and lost. As the story of Guidry's life unfolded, Morgyn felt that maybe he had not only found a guide in his time of need, but had, perhaps, really found a friend.

    Morgyn gently closed the cover on the story of Claude Rene Guidry's days among the living and smiled at this new-found friend.

    “Thank you for sharing that.”

    Guidry shrugged. “It is nothing. I do not get many opportunities, that's all.”

    Several weeks into his recovery, Morgyn's knee was improved enough that they were beginning to plan the continuation of the journey to Willow Creek. Late one evening, he was stretched out on the sofa reading a book of poems when Guidry burst into the room, his aura disorganized as he ran through a gamut of emotions.

    Morgyn immediately sat up. “What's wrong?”

    “Oh. Nothing really. She'll be okay. Eventually.”

    “She? She who?”

    “Nobody. It's nothing. It's just that my last job didn't go as planned.”


    “Yes. I do a little work. Did I not tell you?”

    “No. No you did not. What kind of work?”

    “Oh. Well, I sometimes assist humans who want to contact the other side.”

    “You help humans contacts spirits?”

    “Yes. That is it. And sometimes the spirits aren't as, well, helpful as I am.”

    “Ah. So, what do you do about that?”

    Guidry beamed a smile. Reaching into his pocket he produced a figurine.

    “I give the customer one of these to ward off the curses,” he explained, handing it to Morgyn.

    Morgyn looked at the faux carved statuette. “What do you call this thing?”

    “I tell them it's The Bizarre Idol.”

    “You know this has no power,” Morgyn offered.

    Guidry burst out in laughter. “Yes! That is what makes it so bizarre!”

    Guidry laughed at his own joke as he pulled three more of the figurines from his pocket and spread them out on the table next to the photo album. “They keep them in stock at Pancakes Party Emporium. I buy them by the gross.”

    Morgyn shook his head in amused disbelief. “Well, nothing like walking on the edge, I suppose.”

    Guidry floated over to sit beside his friend. “Ah, but the important thing is, the customer believes it's real and she believes it's real... so it might as well be real, no?”

    “See, there you go again. Who's this 'she' you keep referring to?”

    “It does not matter because she believes the idol is real. See?”

    Morgyn sighed as he plunked the plastic figurine on the table. “I hope you know what you're doing, my friend.”

    “Oh, I do. Let us hope the others don't figure it out, or I will be out of a job.”

    Morgyn let his eyes roam around the hut, searching for anything he might have missed. After several weeks of peaceful recovery, he was finally well enough to complete his trip to Willow Creek and he and Guidry were in the process of gathering some essentials for the rest of the journey. Guidry reported that the SAU had pulled most of its people out of Willow Creek itself, and was now concentrating some of their efforts on suspicious activity in Oasis Springs, although they had not given up their search for Morgyn in the swamps. The travelers debated using a short magic hop out of the swamp, then finishing the rest on foot so as not to give away fairy secrets. But, since Guidry was less certain about the amount of SAU activity in Willow Creek, it was decided to leave on foot in the morning and avoid magic if possible. On Foot, Plan A. Emergency Magic, Plan B.

    “I know there's some kind of duffle bag up here,” Guidry muttered, as he rummaged around in the loft. “You will need that.”

    Morgyn looked at the things they had collected for the trip. He planned to travel light, but there was still the need for basics. As he mentally checked through his list, a sudden bang just outside the door jolted him from his thoughts. Morgyn pulled open the dilapidated door and peered into the night. The spirit that floated before him was a lovely lady whose fiery red aura and glowering countenance made it clear that she was not in the mood to be trifled with. In her hand she clutched a “bizarre idol.”

    “Ah. Guidry? I think it's for you. One of your customers.”

    The apparition snarled at her greeter. “Out of my way, mortal!” she hissed as she pushed into the room.

    “Well, all right... “Morgyn commented, a tinge of sarcasm beginning to edge into his voice.

    Guidry peered over the railing, his eyes widening a bit at the sight of his visitor. “Temperance!” he exclaimed.

    “How inappropriately named,” Morgyn laughed, the sarcasm starting to more deeply mark his comments. The apparition glared at him.

    “If I want something from you, I will let you know. Understood?”

    Morgyn answered with snort and a smirk, the green flecks in his eyes starting to glimmer dangerously.

    Guidry descended to the floor to face his visitor. “How did you find me? I mean, what brings you here?”

    Temperance hurled the false idol to the floor in front of Guidry. “This! Did you suppose you could fool me forever?”

    “Well. Not 'supposed' so much as... hoped?”

    At Guidry's words, Temperance burst into a scream of rage and began whirling around the room in a tornadic frenzy. The sound of a deafening wind filled the air and, in her wake, spawned cursed objects of every kind. Creepy dolls filled the hut, slime creatures emerged through the floorboards, angry spectres filled the air and tendrils of a suffocating ivy began to engulf the walls. As the chaos grew, one could hear the tormented moans of the cursed screaming louder and ever louder.

    Temperance spun around in a dizzying whirl of bright red aura, then turned to glare menacingly at the occupants of the room.

    “Are you finished yet?” Morgyn dryly asked. He stood with his arms across his chest, green eyes glowing, lips curled in a sardonic smile.

    Temperance growled at this impudence. But, as she moved toward this upstart to deal with him as he deserved, her eyes fell on a precious photo album, one she seemed to recognize, lying on the table across the room. She stopped with a slow, sinister smile. Guidry took note of her gaze.

    “No, Temperance. Not that...”

    “Oh yes, Guidry.” Her voice was low and threatening. “Exactly that.”

    Temperance disappeared into nothing, quickly emerging on the other side of the room. She scooped the album up and lofted it into the air. A mighty wind gathered around her, lifting the book from her hands and opening the cover. The fragile pages, the evidence of a life lived, were ripped from the leather bindings and sent flying chaotically through the air.

    “No!” Guidry exclaimed as he raced around the room, trying to recapture each page.

    Temperance laughed, mocking the other spirit. “Haven't you learned yet? You don't ever mess with me, Guidry!”

    The chaotic frenzy continued to build and intensify as the wails of the cursed and screeches of the lost grew deafening. Temperance's mocking laughter rang in his ears as Guidry grasped frantically at the pages of his book, which continued to whirl out of reach, spiraling farther and farther away. But, just as the chaos was reaching its peak, from the other side of the room an authoritative voice rang out.


    For a moment everything stopped as if every evil in that hut asked who dared to question their supremacy.

    “What did you say?” Temperance hissed, as she drew herself up in outrage.

    The Mage stood before her, manifesting his power in a visible aura while arcs of light circled around him.

    “I said enough,” he repeated coldly but calmly, his brilliant green gaze locked into hers.

    Temperance regarded him for a moment, then laughing, raised her clenched fists in the air. The chorus of the cursed screamed with delight, their wailing intensifying, feeding on Temperance's mood. She disappeared and reappeared throughout the room, mocking and laughing at the confusion she was causing until she finally appeared a few feet in front of Morgyn.

    “Perhaps you, too, need to learn a lesson,” she raged, reaching for him in a threatening way. Morgyn took a step back with one foot and lifted his arms, palms facing forward.

    “And, what would that be?” His tone was dark, yet controlled.

    Temperance howled with laughter. "Ask your friend Guidry.”

    She drew herself up and lunged toward Morgyn. “You don't ever...”

    Her words were abruptly cut off as with a wave of his hands, Morgyn released the power he had been channeling. The magic burst forward in a surge of brilliant light and a flash of energy filled the room. The shaft of mystic energy pulsed forward, engulfing Temperance, then exploded into a shower of sparks that filled every corner of the hut. The effects were immediate and powerful. The sudden silence was deafening. Guidry's album dropped to the floor. The wailing of the wind died, the moaning of the cursed faded, and every haunted object began to dissolve into nothingness. Within seconds, the hut was peaceful again.

    Morgyn stepped over to examine the now unmoving form of the once raging spirit. “Let me finish that sentence for you,” he said, sardonically. “You don't ever... mess with me.”

    Guidry picked the remains of his photo binder and its contents from the floor. Glancing up, he finally chanced a look at Temperance. Her arms were stiffly raised in anger, her blazing rage encased in a sheet of cold, frozen glaze.

    “Woah,” Guidry muttered. He gazed into the ice as Temperance's fire red aura flickered deep in its depths.

    “This is just... art,” he mused.

    “Some of my best work,” Morgyn replied, with a smirk.

    Guidry turned to face his friend with a new sense of awe. “You do know you just gave away this location, my friend. They'll be on us in minutes.”

    “I know,” Morgyn sighed. “So, I guess we're back to Plan B.”

    Morgyn and Guidry stood under the shelter of a large tree of the type from which Willow Creek derived its name. The full moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow over this small wooded area right in the midst of the bustling town. This had been Morgyn's destination, and though Guidry wasn't sure why this particular spot was the end of their journey, he was happy his friend had finally reached it safely. By alternating short hops of magic with foot travel, Morgyn had been able to get here undetected by Bragg's hunters.

    “So, how long will Temperance remain... um, how should I say... on ice?” Guidry cautiously asked.

    Morgyn shrugged. “Until she thaws or someone chooses to release her. Why, are you worried?”

    “About her? No. About me? Always.”

    They laughed and made small talk for a time until the sun finally began to rise. Any parting after such an adventure was bound to be awkward.

    “I suppose,” Guidry said, hesitantly, “I should go. Those of my type seem to do better in the dark.”

    Morgyn nodded. “You know, I really do appreciate all of your help. I hope I can return the favor one day.”

    Guidry smiled. “Yes, well. The popsicle was a good start!”

    Morgyn smiled and held out his hand. “Goodbye Guidry. May your afterlife be as adventurous as your life has been.”

    Guidry grasped Morgyn's hand and held it tightly. “And, farewell to you, Mage Ember. Until we meet again.”

    Morgyn watched as the translucent form of his newest friend disappeared into the distance. Turning, he activated the secret entrance to the Sylvan Glade that was hidden inside the tree and stepped through. As the entrance closed behind him and he carefully navigated the familiar path to safety in the Land of the Faerie, he was somehow certain in his mind that he had not seen the last of Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry. And, Morgyn thought, that was just fine with him.

    Post edited by cyncie on
  • mightyspritemightysprite Posts: 3,812 Member
    I loved the story of Morgyn and Guidry meeting!

  • SnowBnuuySnowBnuuy Posts: 1,322 Member
    Ooh, I really like this fully-narrative snippet.
    The imminent danger is really felt in this. I'm wondering if Morgyn will choose to fight back against Bragg's lot or whether he'll run. I now wonder if Simeon and L are alive in the present day. It's a shame that they got separated and also that the peace treaty was nothing more than a trap. Faerie-folk offering help seems good at first, but what Morgyn will owe them in return as a favour, who knows : O I wonder if he's indebted to them. The Sixams and the spellcasting-inhibiting tech is a cool idea. Just means Morgyn has no resonable means of fighting back either X_X Guidry's sense of humour is great. I like that Temperance is included too, nice little backstory snippet ^u^
    they/them or she/her - remember to only support ethical CC creators! - QpGHgt3.png
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    I loved the story of Morgyn and Guidry meeting!

    Thank you so much. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
    SnowBnuuy wrote: »
    Ooh, I really like this fully-narrative snippet.
    The imminent danger is really felt in this. I'm wondering if Morgyn will choose to fight back against Bragg's lot or whether he'll run. I now wonder if Simeon and L are alive in the present day. It's a shame that they got separated and also that the peace treaty was nothing more than a trap. Faerie-folk offering help seems good at first, but what Morgyn will owe them in return as a favour, who knows : O I wonder if he's indebted to them. The Sixams and the spellcasting-inhibiting tech is a cool idea. Just means Morgyn has no resonable means of fighting back either X_X Guidry's sense of humour is great. I like that Temperance is included too, nice little backstory snippet ^u^

    Thank you. I'm glad you liked that little scene from Pre-Myst days. Since Guidry got dropped in as Morgyn's bestie in my current save, I had to go backwards to get where we are now. I may throw in some Pre-Myst stories as we go. My brother told me he was able to pull that save file from my old computer, so I might be able drop back into it for some pre-Myst Morgyn tales. At any rate, little bits of information with emerge in the current Tales.

    That earlier save was definitely more about Morgyn's personal journey from the rather smug comforts of becoming Sage of Untamed Magic at an early age, through the persecution of The Spellcaster Purge (which was then extended to all magic beings), all the way to the creation of The Myst and becoming something of a wise mentor there.

    I feel that Guidry is developing into something of a charming rogue!
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    This is not the story I've been trying to work on. I've been trying to bring Forgotten Hollow into my narrative about The Myst, but that story is slow in coming. Meanwhile, my game is still obsessed with this bromance between Guidry and Morgyn. I never placed Guidry's house in game, because it was too nice for his story right now. But, once I decided to put it in Mooncrest, the game and my Sim-muse ran with it. So here is the result.
    Tales From The Myst
    Home, Sweet Home

    Guidry growled in annoyance as he poked at the keys on the infernal electronic box sitting on his desk. He was trying... really trying... to make things work out in a modern world. When he lived his rather checkered life, things were not so technically complicated. Radio and automobiles were new and the high point of technology, but most things were still done in a much more simple way. What ever happened to books? Now, they had computers, and if a being wanted to know anything at all... like how to perform major home repairs... one had to know how to navigate this new environment.


    Guidry sighed as the glowing image on the screen went blank, yet again. His house was falling apart around him, and his only source of home repair information had just punked out. And, it wasn't just the daily annoyances that were getting him down. The Guidry-Albert plan got kicked back to a committee for review and they now had no idea how long it would be before it was approved for consideration in the Assembly. Cemeteries, abandoned warehouses and dilapidated houses just seemed to be their lot. And, no one seemed to care.

    His frustration was interrupted by a knock at the door, and he was happy to see his friend, Morgyn Ember, standing on his front stoop. A visit with one of his best friends on a cold winter's evening would be a welcome reprieve from the frustrations of an old-fashioned ghost thrust into modern living.

    Guidry welcomed Morgyn into his shabby little home with the slight sense of embarrassment that he always felt at his current status. In life, he was from a well-to-do family. The Duplantiers were well known, and even though his mother had married into the less favored Guidry family, Claude Rene was able to maintain the lifestyle of a socialite adventurer. He traveled and lived well, collecting things from around the globe and surrounding himself with them in the comfortable home his mother left him.

    Eventually, the Duplantiers became estranged from him and cut off their money, but he was still able to live well on his wit and charm. His adventurous spirit led him to work a variety of jobs in a diversity of locales, and even though he was a little less “flush,” as they used to say, he was still comfortable. These days, however, he was finding the truth of the saying “You can't take it with you.” He often joked by telling people he was now “dead broke,” but really, it wasn't that funny.

    “What's going on?” Morgyn asked, his tone leading.

    Morgyn was an astute Mage, and Guidry often found it a bit disconcerting how quickly he was able to tune in to the moods and personality quirks of those he met.

    “Nothing. Really, nothing. Just trying to figure out how to fix this old fixer-upper I am privileged to live in.” Guidry wasn't so much bitter as regretful. The contrast between his two lives was pretty evident to him right now.


    “Is that all?” Morgyn said, cheerfully. “Just tell me what needs to be done. You're looking at the master of The Repairio spell, my friend. Oh, and here's a pro tip: stop 'possessing' your possessions and they'll last longer.”

    Guidry shook his head. “I need more than small repairs or flippant 'advice' Morgyn,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gruff. “I need help. Ongoing help or a house that doesn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. Preferably, both. It's easy for you. You wave your hand and things are repaired. You live in a nice home without holes in the walls or cracks in the foundations. I used to have that, and I took that for granted. I don't have that anymore.”

    As he spoke, there was a crash as two pictures in the kitchen fell off the wall.


    Guidry sighed heavily. “This is why we need better representation, Morgyn. It's demoralizing to exist this way. We may not need all of these things in our current state, but we still remember what it was like before.”

    Morgyn nodded. “I see. We'll do what we can when the Assembly meets, Guidry. But, in the meantime, what do you suggest we do here?”


    Guidry thought for a moment. “Well, I can't change the house. But I can change the help. Come on!”
    With a burst of energy, Guidry rushed into his bedroom and rummaged in the nightstand drawer. Finding a small piece of chalk, he sat down in the floor and began drawing a circle.

    “What are you doing?” Morgyn asked, cautiously, as he sat down on the bed.

    “Requesting assistance.”


    Morgyn sighed and rolled his eyes. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

    “Oh, don't worry,” Guidry commented. “I'm just calling an old friend... the old-fashioned way.”

    Morgyn watched as Guidry sat down on the floor beside the chalk circle and began to chant. The circle began to glow with an eerie flame, building in intensity until, suddenly, there was a flash of light and a figure emerged from the smoke.


    “Boney!” Guidry exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.

    “Claude Rene. You little devil! It's been ages!”

    Morgyn wasn't sure what to expect from Guidry's magic trick, but the appearance of a skeleton dressed in a maid's uniform was not high on the list.

    “One of your exes?” he asked.

    “Well, that's rude,” the newcomer replied.

    “And highly inappropriate,” Guidry added. “What do you take me for?”

    Morgyn shook his head. “I never know.”

    Guidry made a suave gesture with his hand. “Mage Ember, allow me to introduce Bonehilda, the best housekeeper who ever worked for the Duplantier family. Boney, this is Morgyn Ember.”

    Bonehilda crossed her arms across her chest and looked Morgyn up and down with what would have been a judgmental stare coming from anyone else.

    “Is he a friend of yours?” she asked Guidry.

    “Oh yes,” Guidry replied. “A very good friend.”

    “Hmmm,” she muttered. “We'll see. We will see.” Morgyn felt a sense of relief when she finally broke her stare. “So. Let's get to work. This place won't fix itself.”

    As the two followed Bonehilda out of the bedroom, Guidry lowered his voice in a confidential whisper.

    “She's a little protective. But, it's okay.”

    “Has she always been...” Morgyn grimaced.

    “No! No, she was cursed by a voodoo queen. But she still looks out for me.”

    As Bonehilda scrubbed the bathroom, Morgyn and Guidry settled down in the kitchen for a snack. It wasn't long before Morgyn's attempts at a bit of gourmet cooking were interrupted by Bonehilda's feverish cleaning.


    “Isn't she great?” Guidry enthused.

    “Yeah. Does she come with an off switch?”

    Morgyn found his backside suddenly stinging from a snap from Bonehilda's cleaning cloth.

    “Don't get smarty pants with me, Mister Mage,” the housekeeper warned, shaking a bony finger in Morgyn's face. “And, mind your manners!”

    Grumbling, Morgyn grabbed his plate of pasta and adjourned to the living room to watch TV while Guidry and Bonehilda caught up.


    “It's so good to see you, Boney,” Guidry said, softly. “I've missed you.”

    “All you have to do is call, young man.”

    “I know. You've always been there for me.”

    “And, I always will be. How are you holding up?”

    “Me? Fine, I guess. I have a place to live and things are definitely better here, in The Myst.”


    “But... I miss home. My real home. My life.”

    Bonehilda leaned forward and gave Guidry a long look. “Nothing can change the past, young squire. The question is, what are you going to do with the present?”

    Before Guidry could answer, the maid stood up quickly and grabbed her cleaning cloth. “But, enough of that nonsense. This house won't clean itself.”

    Bonehilda cleaned the house top to bottom, and even though she couldn't repair its rundown condition, when she finished, the place was spotless. Not a cobweb survived her broom and you could eat off the floor. It was definitely a vast improvement.

    “I suppose it's time,” she commented, as she surveyed her work.

    Guidry nodded. “It's been nice seeing you again,' he said, with a faint smile.

    “Call any time you need me.” Bonehilda nodded. “Any time.” Then, with a wave of her hand and a blown kiss to Guidry, she disappeared just as quickly as she arrived.

    Guidry found Morgyn holed up in the bedroom fidgeting with some modeling clay he found in the nightstand.

    “Is she gone?” he asked.

    Guidry laughed. “You're not afraid of her, are you?”

    “Afraid, no. Unnerved, yes. She smacked me with a towel.”

    Guidry smiled, wistfully. “I know she can be a bit bossy. But I had a life once, Morgyn. She's all that's left of it.”



    A few weeks later, Guidry was contemplating how he was going to spend this day. New Year's Day is usually a time of letting go of the past while embracing the future, but Guidry felt stuck in a rut. The promise of the recent months seemed to have settled into stagnation and he wasn't sure things were going to get any better, soon. As he sat on his sofa watching the celebratory preparations on TV, his phone chimed. He was surprised at how much of modern technology he was actually embracing these days.


    It was a text from Morgyn requesting to meet him at a certain location in Mooncrest. Having nothing better to do, Guidry bundled up in an unnecessary coat and scarf, and made his way to the address.

    Upon setting eyes on the house, he knew it. He knew every board and every creak of every door and gate. He knew the color, and the smell and the way the wind sounded when it whistled through the eaves. And he also knew this was impossible. This house should not be here. This house belonged in Willow Creek. And, this house had not looked this way in almost 100 years. Not only did it look exactly as it had in Guidry's youth, but someone had even decorated it for the holiday.


    Guidry was cautiously looking around the grounds when a familiar flash from the front porch alerted him to Morgyn's arrival. He joined him there, nervous, his voice quavering as he searched his friend's face.

    “What's going on, Morgyn?”


    “Oh, just a little New Year's celebration. With a new start for a friend.” Morgyn gestured. At the wave of his hand, the door opened before them and Guidry hesitantly stepped in.

    It was all there. All of it. Every piece of furniture, every painting, every vase. Exactly the way he remembered it.


    “How?” he asked, astonished.

    Morgyn shrugged. “Well, you turned down my repair offers, but I'm also the master of The Duplicato spell. And what use is magic if you can't use it to benefit a friend.”

    “So, is it... mine?” Guidry asked, unbelieving.

    Morgyn blinked. “Well, yes. I really don't have much need for it.”

    Guidry was unsure if he was able to cry, but at this moment he really wanted to. He immediately began searching the house, taking in every floor, ever corner, looking in every drawer. Morgyn followed as Guidry examined every picture, every knick knack, and every treasure brought from foreign lands, and listened patiently as his friend reveled in every memory they conjured up. After hours of exploration and some tea in the dining nook, they finally settled on the sofa for some friendly conversation.


    Guidry told Morgyn of his life in this house, how he had inherited it from his mother, and how he had managed to hold on to it, in spite of the changes in his financial status. The “paranormal investigator” gig had proven to be just profitable enough to keep Guidry in comfort right up until his untimely, and ultimately embarrassing, demise.

    “I'm so glad to be back here,” he said, softly.

    “I hope you noticed that I included a few modern conveniences,” Morgyn said, proudly.

    Guidry groaned. He had noticed the computer in the bedroom and the TV in the parlor.

    “Thank you,” he said. “I suppose some things do have to move forward.”

    “Well, it never hurts,” Morgyn said, as he rose to leave. “We all have to adapt.”

    Guidry laughed. “I've done nothing but adapt. I can manage. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, my friend.”

    Morgyn winced at the word 'friend.' “Listen, Guidry. I know the assembly proposal is important to you. To all of you. I just didn't realize why it was important, until now. I promise to do what I can to move things along. Everyone deserves a real home.”

    Guidry smiled as he engulfed his friend in a goodbye hug. “Yes. Yes, we do. And thank you, so much, for mine.”


    They said their awkward but heartfelt goodbyes, and Guidry walked his friend to the door. As Morgyn stepped out into the cold, the charming spirit couldn't resist one last parting shot.

    “Oh, and Morgyn?”


    “Bonehilda's going to love this!”

    “Great,” Morgyn replied, wryly. “Maybe she'll keep that cleaning cloth to herself”

  • GlacierSnowGlacierSnow Posts: 1,746 Member
    This is a great story! I'm loving the interactions between Guidry and Morgyn. Getting their backstory was fun. You've got me completely hooked. :smiley: I'm intrigued by the main plot you started as well. I hope you are planning on continuing.
    Seventeen & Maldusk Forum thread link
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    Oh, hey! Thanks for commenting. I haven’t quit on this. I just haven’t had a chance to play or write much since this chapter. With the holidays, a death in the family, and me coming out of retirement for 3 months, time has been short. I am working on the Forgotten Hollow part of the story and hope to have it ready soon. Glad you enjoyed it.
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    At The Blue Moon

    The night was growing frigid and Caleb Vatore was growing tired, impatient and hungry. The cold and damp of the snowy night seemed to be seeping into every bone and fiber of his body. He wiped his hands across his eyes and squinted into the frost ridden forest, sure that his last several miles had gained him absolutely no ground. The flickering lanterns that represented his destination seemed just as far away as they had four hours ago and it would be only a few hours before sunrise would catch him out. The vegetation was dense, thick and suffocating, and no matter how Caleb chose to travel, he was certain the inn he was trying to reach had deliberately moved beyond his grasp at least three times. It was as if it was taunting him.


    Caleb sank to the ground and rummaged in the duffle bag he had packed for the journey. With a curse, he realized he had consumed his last bag of plasma hours ago. He had been on this journey for three days, traveling by night and sheltering from the sun by day. It shouldn't have been this hard to navigate this forest on the outskirts of Windenburg, and yet, he was no closer to his goal than he was when he started. Obviously, this was no ordinary forest. But then, his destination was no ordinary inn.

    Caleb stood up on wobbly legs, his nocturnal thirst taking on an edge he didn't want to acknowledge. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to quell the hunting instinct as he stepped forward, only to plunge, face down in the snow, tripped by his own weakness and a trailing vine. He groaned as he rolled over on his back, his frustration beginning to sink all hope.


    “Welcome to The Blue Moon, Mr. Vatore.”

    Caleb spit the snow out of his mouth and scrambled to an upright position as he fixed his gaze on the smiling woman standing before him. She was young and lovely, with a strange mix of innocent youth and provocative charm, and an appearance that seemed to subtly shift and change even as she spoke. Looking around, he saw his destination nearby, windows aglow with the promise of warmth and rest on a cold evening. With a gesture, she turned to lead the way as Caleb shook his head in astonishment.

    “ I mean, how? It wasn't here...”

    The young lady turned back, a faint smile tracing her lips. “Are you coming, Mr. Vatore? Oberon is expecting you.”


    Slinging his duffle across his shoulder, with heavy feet he followed his captivating guide. With any luck at all, Caleb Vatore hoped he would finally find the answers he sought at The Blue Moon Tavern.
    After a couple of Plasma Janes, Caleb felt more like himself. The young hostess, whom he discovered was named Anaya, had directed him to a table and provided the necessary nourishment. With his thirst sated and his head clearing, he was able to give some attention to his surroundings.


    The Blue Moon Tavern was old. So old, that the story of its origins had long been lost to the mists of time. Caleb breathed in the warm smell of timeworn antiquity and noticed that a feeling of ancient enlightenment seemed to emanate from the patinaed woodwork. Stained glass windows and accents provided splashes of color against the dark wood, and artifacts from many human civilizations, as well as not-so-human ones, spoke to The Blue Moon's unique place at the crossroads of the natural and supernatural. Folklore said you could only find it if you needed to find it, and Caleb had certainly needed to find it. The Blue Moon was the stuff of legends, as was its proprietor, Oberon Lazuli. And, Oberon Lazuli was the one person Caleb was hoping to soon meet.

    The patrons of The Blue Moon were a varied bunch. At a glance, you might not realize that merfolk, spellcasters, werefolk, fae, and a variety of “Others” were mingling with the random humans who managed to somehow wander through its doors. A Jukebox kept a steady stream of music going, and at the far end of the room, a large bar served up food and beverages. Caleb's eyes scanned the room, hoping to pick out his host. Not knowing what Oberon Lazuli looked like, he gave up the effort with a weary sigh and dropped his head in his hands.

    The sound of tinkling metal made him look up. Anaya stood before him, a set of keys dangling from her fingers, a coffee cup in her other hand.

    “He'll see you tomorrow,” she said, seeming to read his mind. “Downstairs. All the way down the hall. Your room is the last on the left.”


    Caleb nodded as she dropped the keys in his hand. Then, following her directions, he made his way downstairs to a small, yet comfortable room and some much needed rest.

    Caleb woke and stretched, the action eliciting a deep groan. His muscles were still aching from his three day journey. He had slept most of the day, and it was now late afternoon. Dragging himself out of the bed, he found the common bathroom at the end of the hallway. After a shower and some clean clothes, he was beginning to feel a bit less battered when he wandered back upstairs to the bar room. Only a few patrons were there during the earlier hours, but he had a feeling things would be picking up as the sun went down.

    Caleb perched at a bar stool and smiled brightly at Anaya on the other side of the bar.

    “You seem more rested,” she commented, as she slid a drink to a large bearded fellow at the other end of the bar. “Are you hungry? Why don't you take a seat at the fireplace, and we'll get you something.”

    Caleb nodded gratefully as he moved to one of the large armchairs that sat in front of the crackling fire. He wasn't a flirtatious type, but he was finding this young lady to be quite fascinating. Stretching his legs out in front of the fire, he closed his eyes and contemplated if being a bit more forward would be to his advantage. When he felt a light tap on his shoulder, he decided he was ready to take the risk.


    “Thanks, beautiful. I hope you'll be able to join me.”

    “I'm sorry, Mr. Vatore, but I make it a rule to never eat with my customers. But, thank you for the compliment.”

    The decidedly male voice, tinged with amusement, made Caleb sit bolt upright in embarassment. He whipped around to see a tall man with startling blue eyes standing before him holding a covered plate. His platinum hair was pushed back behind his ears, their tapered shape indicating something other than human lineage, and a sardonic smile played across his lips.

    “Oh. I... you're...” Caleb stammered.

    “Oberon Lazuli, at your service,” his host said. “And I have here, the absolute best plasma fruit salad you will ever taste. I stake my repuation on it. Please enjoy it. When I return, we'll talk.”

    The proprietor of The Blue Moon placed the plate on a side table, along with utensils and seasoning and, with a reassuring smile, left Caleb to his meal. Activity in the tavern was beginning to pick up as night fell, and Caleb watched the patrons come and go as he ate. Oberon was not wrong. It really was the best plasma fruit salad he had ever had, and he slowly relished it like a delicacy. Just as he was finishing the very last of it, Oberon returned and motioned for his guest to follow him downstairs.

    “I believe,” he said, “We would prefer to have this conversation in a more private venue.”

    At the bottom of the stairs was the hallway leading to the guest rooms, but to the left was a large and heavy wooden door. Oberon unlocked it and motioned for Caleb to precede him into the room. It was a smaller version of the main bar upstairs, complete with a small but well stocked bar, jukebox and game tables.

    “Please, make yourself comfortable,” Oberon urged. “This is the private bar. We will not be interrupted.”

    Instead of seeking out a table, Caleb absently plopped himself down on a ancient wooden bench near the door. With a shrug, his host took a place beside him.

    “So, Mr. Vatore,” Oberon began, his voice soft and rich. “Why don't you tell me what brings you to The Blue Moon.”

    Caleb smiled. “Somehow, I think you already know the answer to that.”

    “Perhaps I do. But, it's always best to hear things straight from the source, don't you think?”


    Caleb began at the beginning. He told Oberon of his life before vampirism, his turning, living his undead life in the shadows, and how he eventually found himself banished from human society to Forgotten Hollow, along with his sister and a myriad of other cursed beings. He told about his dedication to proving that those who were afflicted with vampirism could provide for their needs in less violent ways, and how his work in that area had made him the enemy of Vladislaus Straud. He told him of his efforts to rally the other cursed folk into some sort of coalition that would fight against their supposed fate and bring hope for a better existence. And, he told him of his dream to have Forgotten Hollow annexed into The Myst, his frustration at not being given a hearing, and how, with the help of Mortimer Goth's extensive library, he had found his way to The Blue Moon. He talked until the clock chimed midnight, his host patiently listening to it all. Caleb needed help. If humanity could not accept them, certainly the supernatural should.

    “But why, Mr. Vatore?” Oberon asked. “Why should the residents of The Myst accept Forgotten Hollow?”

    “Because, we've all suffered the persecution. We need unity. The Myst is about unity for supernatural beings, isn't it?”

    “Of course. But, I'm afraid, on this, you have skipped a little detail.”

    “Which is?”

    Oberon leaned in to make his point. “Come now, Mr. Vatore. You know full well what I'm talking about. No one, natural or supernatural, is going to voluntarily risk becoming... how shall I say it... prey.”

    Caleb winced at his words. Of course, he knew that. That's why he was trying so hard to create this movement away from feeding on others. A movement that Vladislaus Straud was determined to quash.

    Caleb sighed and slumped back against the hard seat. “I know. I know. I keep trying to convert others to my way of thinking. We're just so isolated from anything else, and I foolishly keep hoping there's a way.”

    “Oh, I didn't say there's no way.” Oberon stood up and turned toward the door. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to close up.”

    Startled, Caleb followed him back up the stairs.

    “Wait! You can't just end things like that!”


    Oberon entered the main bar, Caleb in tow. Clearing his throat, he made an announcement to the guests.

    “Last call, everyone. We're closing early tonight.”

    As the patrons expressed their disappointment, Caleb continued to follow Oberon to the bar, where his host was mixing the final drinks of the day.

    “What way?” he asked.

    “I'm sorry, what?”

    “What way? You said there is a way.”

    “Did I? Well, Mr. Vatore. Take a look around you. We have all types in here: werefolk, vampires, faerie-folk, and even an odd human or two. And, so far, no one has had anyone else for dinner, tonight. Occasionally I have to break up a spat over a game of foosball, but my patrons rarely feast on each other, even though some of them could. The reason? They have found commonality in spite of their differences, and value their associations too much to endanger them. If you want the same for Forgotten Hollow as it relates to The Myst, you must do the work, Mr. Vatore. Annexation will not happen. I know this for a fact. Maintain your separateness, find common ground and create associations.”

    “Separate, but allied? An alliance? With The Myst?”

    “Yes. I dare say both might find such an arrangement beneficial. After all, there are many threats... ah reasons... to become allies.”

    “You seem to imply some kind of common enemy. Allied against what? Who?”

    “Well,” Oberon said, his blue eyes flashing a bit. “That remains to be seen, doesn't it?”

    Oberon ushered his guests to the door, and with cordial parting words, locked it firmly behind them. He turned off the lights, then proceeded to bank the fire in the fireplace, Caleb still following close behind.

    “Oberon, please,” Caleb started, but was cut off by his host.


    “I think we've had a productive visit, here,” Oberon mused. “I wish you a safe trip home, tomorrow.”

    “But, I'm not...”

    “Oh, but you are. You found what you were looking for. There is no need to remain. When you have support among your people and have worked out a plan, if you need entry to The Myst, seek me out again. I might be able to assist you there.”


    Oberon moved across the room, but paused as he reached the stairs. “Sleep well. And, do remember, an alliance is a powerful tool. Just be certain you clearly understand those with whom you are becoming aligned. Goodnight and goodbye, Mr. Vatore. I'll send your bill to your residence.”

    The Blue Moon's proprietor ascended the stairs to the upper floor and his private residence, turning out the downstairs lights when he reached the top. Standing alone in the darkened inn, Caleb was certain Oberon Lazuli was hinting at things to come.

    As he made his way to his downstairs bedroom, he thought about his conversation with the mysterious man. Things had not quite gone the way Caleb had hoped, but he strongly suspected they had gone the way they needed. Caleb had hoped for assistance in gaining a hearing in The Myst, but was leaving with the beginnings of a proposed alliance. And, as he sank into his bed and his thoughts returned to the lovely Anaya, he considered that alliances might be a good idea in many ways. Many very interesting ways, indeed.


  • Sims4MagicalTalesSims4MagicalTales Posts: 4,786 Member
    Great update!
  • cynciecyncie Posts: 3,561 Member
    Great update!

    Thanks for reading
  • mightyspritemightysprite Posts: 3,812 Member
    That was delightful :)

    So many cool shots of the tavern too. It's like a character in its own right.
    (Ok I get that Caleb is interested in Anaya, but, Caleb and Oberon would be desperately cute together, and you wrote them a pretty perfect meet-cute)
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