Archive | July 30, 2012

Countdown to Addergoole: What is Addergoole?

What is Addergoole?

Good question!

Addergoole is the title of two web serialized stories, the completed Addergoole set in the 5th year of the school, and the upcoming Addergoole Year Nine, set in, yes, the 9th year of the school with all-new characters.

A boarding school unlike any other, Addergoole is a story containing dark contemporary fantasy, with kink and sexual subtext, magic, violence, and a dystopian school. The incoming Ninth Cohort enters the school knowing nothing about the world they’re being plunged into. Come learn with them.

The school is also Addergoole: an underground complex three stories deep, with secrets down every hallway. Hidden under the South Dakota wheatfields, the Addergoole School is invitation-only, and invitations go only to students who are already, all unknowing, part of the Addergoole Project.

The Addergoole Project is School Director Regine Avonmorea’s pet project, a century-spanning plan that underlies everything that happens in the school, named after the Addergoole Parish in Ireland (Regine explains why here). Not even her inner circle know every twist and turn of this plan.

The Ninth Cohort will step into Addergoole in 37 days! In the meantime, enjoy the countdown, read other things tagged “Addergoole,” go back to the July Giraffe Call and ask for more story, or ask the characters questions. We’ll all be waiting with you!

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Countdown to Addergoole Year 9: Garfunkle, Belfreja, and Kay

52 37 Days To 52 Weeks

For the 52 days leading up to the 52 weeks of Addergoole: Year 9, I will be posting something Addergoole-related every day.

Today: parts of a character development meme!

7.) Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?
When Gar was twelve, his (Step)mother’s brother came to live with them. His Uncle Jeremy was dying of liver failure, trying to stop drinking in a last-ditch attempt to save his own life, and he just couldn’t stop drinking.
The loss of self-control, and the loss of everything, in the long run, freaked Gar out. He had nightmares about his uncle flopped there on the couch, wasting away and still clutching the bottle. He still does. He said, at his uncle’s small and sad funeral, that he wished he’d never met Uncle Jeremy. His mother’s angry reaction to that cemented Gar’s desire to delete that event from his life
7.) Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?
Bel is a generally very-friendly, sensual person, and, because she was an early bloomer and is a lush, beautiful girl, her friendliness has often been misinterpreted. In the last few years, she’s learned to moderate that, but before she did, a teacher, husband of another teacher, crossed the lines of propriety with her, looking first for a dance with her at a school function, and then for a kiss.
Although Bel, then fourteen, hadn’t been soliciting the attention, the teacher’s wife certainly thought she had and spent the remainder of the year angry at Bel and taking it out on her in her grades and discipline. What’s more, the principal, also a woman, sided with the teacher against Bel.
8.) Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Kay likes Chocolate Mint ice cream.
Her favorite color is plum, with a second-favorite, accent, of slate blue (that’s purple and blue for guys)
“Youth of the Nation” is her favorite song. Irises are her favorite flower. When she plans her wedding with her friends, she imagines giant iris bouquets and her bridesmaids in long plum dresses.

Other parts of the meme can be found here and here.

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The Empress who would be Goat-Wife, a story for the June Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] anke‘s continuation (won in the drawing in June) of The Goat-Bride.

This story is set in the early days of the Callennan life on Reiassan.

The book landed on the table with a meaty thump.

“This is not the way it will be.” The Emperor of the Callentate of North Reiassannon-land, Eszhettozh, son of Emanek, stared at his second eldest grand-daughter. “This is not the way it should be.”

“This is the way it has always been.” His grand-daughter stared back at him, her gaze as level, her voice as firm. She set her hand on the book of their people’s stories, as if to draw strength from the síra of a rock or tree.

“And this is not how it will be this time. You are my heir. Your mother and your sister and brother have died. You are the next child of my eldest daughter’s loins. This is the way it is.”

“Then allow my mother’s brother to inherit. I will go to the goats, to be their bride. Such is the way it has always been.”

The stared at each other, the grey-bearded Emperor and the long-braided young grand-daughter, alike in stubbornness, alike in calm.

This is the way it has always been, said the girl, knowing full well that the first Goat-Bride had argued, instead, this is the way it will be now.

This is the way the road goes now, said the Emperor, knowing full well that his throne had been built on tradition as well as on arms. And they glared at each other, knowing full well that both could not win.

“I will go to the goats.” []’s voice did not crack.

“Then who will be Empress in your stead? I will live long, but not even the mountains live forever.”

“My mother’s brother should be Emperor,” the stubborn girl repeated. “He is next in line.”

“The grandmothers will not stand for another male. They have declared it so.” Some forces even the Emperor of the Callentate must bow to, and the elder women of the Tribes (even if they were no longer Tribes) were a force the way the ocean and the rain and the mountains were forces. They could not be budged quickly, and to try was to waste energy better left on learning to traverse their whims.

The Emperor did not expect to find his own granddaughter such a stony force as well. “Your mother’s brother cannot become Emperor,” he repeated. “You are my heir, and cannot go to the goats.”

“I will be a Goat-wife. The gods have witnessed it.” [] did not stop her foot, but she nodded her head firmly. “The sword and the goat shall be my home and my family. Someone else must rule.”

“But you are my heir. You must take the throne.” Back and forth they would have kept going, neither more willing to bend than the rock they stood on, had not the youngest of the Emperor’s advisors stepped up.

“The Callentate has many children. Let the Emperor’s third child take the throne.”

“She is old,” dismissed the ancient man. “She will not rule long.”

“Then her third child, who is a girl. Let her rule.”

Emperor and grand-daughter goat-wife shared a look. “Your first child cannot inherit. Your first child’s first daughter cannot inherit. Let your third child’s third child take the throne.”

“So let it always be.” They had come to a place where they could smile, and they did so, like the sun lighting on the ocean.

And so it was, until the days came for change again. But that is a tale of another day.

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