A Prompt and...Malyn Compensates wip

1. Describe your dream house. How does your current home compare?

#1 Fantasy themed Dream House:

Malyn looked out the arched window of the tower she called home. She'd come a long way since her childhood home of mud and straw daub in the barbarian wastes of northeastern Cerilia. It was that home where her thoughts dwelled this day. She stood proud looking over her lands, but instead of rolling grassy hills she saw the dark green of firs, pine, and hemlock with the scattering of larches, aspens and cottonwoods. She had woods to hunt on her lands, but the deciduous maple and beech tree forest smelled wrong and was too warm even in the winter months. A chilled autumn breeze sent a sudden chill over her and she adjusted the fox fur stole over her shoulders. Grudgingly, Malyn turned to continue her climb up the stair leading to the top of the tower. The room there protected her and her domain from violent disaster. The moon rise was still a couple hours away, but Malyn liked to settle in early to ensure she was secured from the hours of moon rise to moon set. It would be the the true full moon this eve, so she made especially sure of her confinement. The door was a stone and iron weight with magic set by her friends Cayen, a south desert Basarj Wizard and Vollig, a Rheged Druid. Together they devised this room, her cage five days of every thirty-two, to maximize what comfort her were-self needed to remain calm and quiet. There were no windows and only a single torch, which lit whenever she was present in the room. The door closed and locked whenever she stepped three steps inside. She tested this magic many times and always marveled when it worked every time.

Malyn hesitated just outside the doorway. A bench sat against the wall and iron hooks were set about eye level. She sighed and proceeded to disrobe. The fox fur rested on the bench with her folded skirt, blouse, and under garments. Her boots were placed neatly under the bench with the toes pointing toward the wall. Her weapons; long sword, old worn dagger, and a decorative silver dagger, hung from the wall hooks within their belted sheaths. Wearing nothing but her skin, Malyn stepped three steps into the stone cage. The door shut and locked. The torch overhead flickered to life. Her trusted grounds keeper had replaced the soiled straw from last eve's occupation and a live goat bleated from the corner of the room. Malyn curled her lip in distaste, "Goat, again." She made a mental note to tell *Nimirbêl to change the feed for tomorrow's enclosure. Surely, the gamekeeper could snare some wild meat. It was Malyn's misfortune to become a lynx in her were-state. As a lynx she refused to feed on anything that wasn't a fresh kill; preferably, her fresh kill. And feed she must or the were-beast became so agitated within this cage that she had actually injured herself. True, she healed quickly, but the injuries and the noises filtering through the stone walls were avoided by simply providing a live sacrificial animal within the room.

Malyn walked to the ragged mat on the far wall from the goat. Thanks to her dear friend Trellin, a Paladin for Haelyn, once the door closed the room tempurature warmed comfortably to accomodate her state of undress. In the early days, she dreaded going to her confinment because it was so cold and uncomfortable until she changed and acquired the fur covering that kept her warm. She couldn't die of exposure, but it was damn painful to get so cold.

Malyn sigh, closed her eyes and concentrated on her memories of what home used to be. A faint smile curved her lips as she pictured the warm earthy walls and the smells of stewing turnips and venison. There was much to be said about a barbarian's domicile. Family made the home, not the trappings of the structure. A tear slipped free of the corner of her eye. She, Theyda,and her mother prepared the summerfest confections. They had banished the men and the children from the house, which wasn't a difficult task with carnival in the village square.


"Theyda, get that bowl. This is ready to be removed from the fire." Malyn helped her mother lift and carry the iron pot to the table as Theyda did as her Aunt bid and collected the bowl. As Malyn and Vivecka tipped the pot, Theyda guided the bubbling sweet liquid into the bowl with a wooden spoon.


She could smell the whiff of scorched honey and feel the ache in her arms as the three women took turns whipping the hot mixture until it had cooled enough to pull. Her mouth watered as she remembered the taste of taffy and caramel sweets so popular during summerfest. That had been the last summer when everyone she loved was alive. A ragged sigh broke Malyn's concentration. Stacio her betrothed, was killed before the Fallfest, caught alone in the woods during an orog migration. Valerik, her closest cousin and she were sorely wounded during the winter raids by a neighboring tribe; Valerik never regained consciousness. Then that spring, Vivecka caught the fever and died while Malyn cared for her. Over the years, word reached her of each death of her remaining family residing in the Rzhlev village of Sandorev. But those three deaths had set the motion of the tide of the rest of her life. Never again would she have family to define what was home. Now, home was a stone construction where she ruled over a minor Duchy in the northestern corner of Dhoesone. Often, as a child, she had dreamed of being a powerful person with lands and serfs to tend her fields. She lived those childhood dreams and found herself dreaming of the old times when life was innocent and as carefree as a wild life could ever be.


*note*: Nimirbêl means Elf Lover in the Adunaic language