Hecate’s Tear pt. 1

So, I’ve kind of been obsessively plotting for my Dungeons and Dragons games this past week, writing a lot of decent stuff for it actually. Didn’t want to post any of it just yet though, for two reasons. 1) I didn’t want two game posts “in a row”. 2) I have players who might be following the blog and I don’t know how much I want them to know yet.

Instead, I decided to show off a little. I realized I’ve posted a little bit of fiction, a little bit of nonfiction, a little bit of gaming, and I’m saving my poetry for April (got a plan for April it turns out) so that leaves only one thing left to show that I’ve written a little of everything. My screenplay. I’ve got a lot of work put into this screenplay, started it in a class, retconned and expanded it in my 403 “do your own project” class, and really just thought a lot about it. It follows two main characters, one of whom is not properly introduced until the second episode, on a fairly standard fantasy plot of “go get powerful magic relic”. Of course, who they are taking it from and who they are and all sorts of details make the story quite a bit more exciting than that. I’ll eventually post the whole thing, but as it is fairly lengthy I’ll just tease the first four scenes in this post. If you can’t stand not knowing what happens next I might be persuaded into posting more before next week, but until then enjoy the opening of Hecate’s Tear


The hallway stretches like a black tunnel and tastefully expensive furniture rises out of the shadows on either side. ANGRY VOICES yell from the far end, indistinct, half monstrous voices. Blue lights dance into view at the far end of the tunnel.

Nearby, mostly covered in shadows, is a YOUNG MAN wearing dirty, tattered but still practical dark clothes which hang off his thin shoulders. He grabs your tiny hand and drags
you behind him as you run away from the lights and the voices. You both pant heavily as you twist and turn through the halls, but the voices keep getting closer, coming from
the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

A small satchel bounces against his back as you run. A glistening silver mask peeks out from within, a mask with a small smile of cruel amusement.

You round a final corner, a large ornate door stands at the end. He stops running, jerking on the handle desperately. It refuses to budge.

The lights round the corner, brighter and louder than ever. Half blind you SCREAM in terror.

You hear the SHATTERING OF GLASS and the HOWL OF WIND, SILVAS jumps into the hallway. He is dressed similarly to the young man, but his clothes are cleaner, better fitting,
and his bearing is that of a regal rage. His hair is like scarlet flames, shoulder length, and the howling winds pluck at it like lute strings, gently. The winds are his.

Get her out of here!

Silvas-how did you-I’m sorry, I
know you didn’t want us to but-


The man picks you up and runs out the shattered window. You scream and struggle to get back, grasping desperately towards Silvas’ back as the blue lights engulf and devour him.


The apartment is small, more like a single room dorm than a living space. The windows are grimy, barely allowing the light from the sunrise to filter in. The walls are bare and stained. These aren’t signs of neglect from the resident though, simply indicative of the price of rent. Despite this, It looks well-kept. She cares about orderliness not cleanliness. The bed is small, only big enough for a single person to sleep on, and is occupied by ARACHNE, who is staring up at the ceiling as the light creeps across the floor. The bed has a thin white sheet,
slightly sweat stained and twisted due to the nightmare she had. Her brown shirt is in a similar state, and she untangles it from her body.

Arachne pushes herself off the bed and pulls a trunk out from underneath. Pulls on a pair of pants and boots. Grabs a small satchel bag, and heads for the door.

She stops and looks at her right hand, staring at what looks to be a small tattoo of a black dot. As she stares the dot shifts and expands into a simple black circle with an X through it. Satisfied she exits the room.


The pub room is dim and dingy, even with the sunlight valiantly trying to pierce the gloom through mostly closed shutters.

The fireplace is blackened with soot, probably never been cleaned. Within is a dirty and dented pot with some foul gruel boiling over a small, smoky fire.

There are a scattering of small wooden tables and chairs about, mostly unoccupied, though there are a few people drinking and eating thin gruel.

They are a rough, poor, and dangerous looking lot, half are easily thugs and criminals, while the other half are simply crude swine and scum. Talk is low, secretive. Behind the bar stands the PROPRIETOR, middle-aged, fat, and with a greasy beard. He’s pouring a drink for one of the patrons. A small amount of coin changes hands, then a larger amount. The proprietor leans in, trying not to be heard.

The waitress scurries between the tables, occasionally flinching away from the grasp of drunk men. She was attractive once, still could be, but her face is drawn and haggard. She’s been used too much, her’s is not a happy existence.
Arachne comes down the stairs and heads to the doors, paying no heed to the pub or its patrons. The proprietor, finished with his “discussion”, spots her.

Hey, your rent’s due tomorrow.
Better have the coin unless you
want to be kicked out into the

A lewd look comes over his face

Of course, if you don’t have it, we
could discuss… alternative

Arachne continues to the door.

Hey, you hear me?

I heard you.

A PATRON steps in Arachne’s path. He’s lanky and buzzed on cheap beer.

If the young lady is in need of
coin, I’d be more than happy to

He spots the mark on Arachne’s hand, black circle with an X

Ah, let me guess. Poor, young
country girl comes to the big city.

He gestures grandly.

Heard the streets are paved with
golden opportunities, only to find
that getting a job ain’t so easy.

Arachne crosses her arms, impatient.

Bet your life savings are just
about used up, getting desperate? I
know the perfect place for a lovely
thing like you to find work…

He reaches out to cup her face in his hand

If you’re interes-

Arachne slaps his hand away and strides past him.

Don’t touch me.

The man spins and attempts to grab her.

Don’t you turn your back to me you
cheap little-

He doesn’t see her move, his first indication of danger is the feel of cool steel against his neck. He freezes, staring into her eyes. She’s slightly annoyed.

I said, don’t touch me.

The man twitches his head, too scared to even nod properly. Satisfied Arachne leaves, the knife disappearing back up her sleeve.



The sun is barely over the tops of the walls, which stand in grim watch over the city. The slums spread out like a sea of rotted wood crashing against the walls. The gate nearby, is
beginning to open allowing desperate travelers and farmers entrance to the city. Arachne exits the inn, bouncing a meager bag of coins in her palm, the strings have obviously been cut

Thank you for your assistance.

She tucks the coin bag into her satchel and walks down the street, deeper into the city. The skyline is dominated by The Royal Tower, a massive white steel tower, glittering in the early morning light like a massive sword hanging over the city.

Hecate’s Tear pt. 1

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