C.N. Sebright
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cnsebright.bsky.social
C.N. Sebright
@cnsebright.bsky.social
71 followers 45 following 220 posts
Award-losing author-- I swear it is somewhere in this mess-- of "The Man of Elansia" and "Gods Slay the Queen"
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cnsebright.bsky.social
It's a gamble, to be sure.
a man in a suit and tie is dancing in a field .
ALT: a man in a suit and tie is dancing in a field .
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December 18, 2025 at 6:42 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
But... it asked nicely. And there may be a disgruntled wizard on the other end.
December 18, 2025 at 5:08 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Look at this button I'm pinging; no aetherial light at all, not even a hint of it ringing.

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Eliza stared intently at the button with more than a little disdain for whoever had designed it. The button itself was constructed as intended. An obvious little panel to designate and grant it decent visibility for any would-be user to notice it from the onset, and a sturdy frame to withstand the hands of any larger people that would need to press such a button-- not that Eliza had seen any here, but it was nice that they had considered that. No, what she was rather perturbed by with the little call button-- and she had thought long about this in her own designs-- was that underneath the panel was a little notice that stated: “Please Press Only Once”. Now, this was all well and good, and Eliza was more than happy to oblige with such a request. She had pressed it with the gusto of a child whose parent had let them do something for the first time. Sadly, the button was pressed and depressed with little fanfare. The look on Eliza’s face went from exuberance, to bewilderment, to outright consternation at the very lack of response from the setup. She would have certainly created it in a way that gave some sort of feedback to the user that their request had been registered. A click, a ding, a bell or whistle of some sort, even an aetherial light that lit up the button to know for certain that she had successfully pressed the button far enough that the people on the other end got the message that she was waiting. For now, all she could do was wait, and hope that the message had gone through-- and resist the urge that was welling up in her to press the button again.
December 18, 2025 at 3:56 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Another repeat. At this point, my whole WIP may be up in less than 2k word fragments.

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“You did it,” Eliza shouted, throwing her arms around Flik and giving him an unprompted hug. Flik was taken a bit aback at the sudden show of affection and awkwardly patted her on the back. He was at a loss as to how to handle the situation with her over her exuberant show of gratitude. “What exactly happened?” Zeippe said, looking around curiously. She did not believe that Flik had managed to accomplish such a task on his own and was looking for any reasonable answer in the surroundings to give away the game. Sadly, anything that could have been a clue to what had happened had been mostly washed away, though the slight increase of moisture in the surroundings was a clue unto itself. “I told you he was an adventurer worth his salt. How'd you do it? I bet it was a well-timed Dissever spell to send them all back to The Deep Down?” “No, you see--” “A full-powered Balled Fire that vaporized them instantly?” Eliza interrupted. “What happened was--” “You turned them into worms and threw them into the ocean,” she interrupted again. “No, it was--” “How do you explain the temple then?” Zeippe interjected. “I had just assumed since he got rid of the evil god that the temple would go with him. Isn't that how they work? I'd have assumed you'd see more temples to ancient gods around if it didn't.” Zeippe had initially wanted to contradict her but found a modicum of wisdom in what she was saying. “I suppose you have a point.”
December 16, 2025 at 2:59 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Snow problem.

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Giants were a unique people. Much like the dwarves, the ogres, and the trolls, the giants found themselves birthed from rock. Unlike some divine guidance with the dwarves, the giants were more akin to the ogres and trolls, and chalked up their creation to pure chance and excess Fae magicks. The birth of the giants is from the very mountains of Daythum themselves. In essence, they could call those peaks and ridges their kin-- they don't, but they could-- as giants were, in essence, the ranges themselves. The very first giant was born during a blustery night in winter when a mountain grew too cold and tried to roll over to get warm, and somehow succeeded – though he never really found the warmth. It was the very trivial act that gave rise to consciousness in the very first giant as he stared out over a freezing ice sheet that had parked itself next door and pondered as to where his blanket had gone. The ‘what was a blanket’ came later.
December 15, 2025 at 4:20 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Crush, smack! Whip crack!
Smash, grab! Pinch, nab!

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“I don't care about the numbers, I care about her,” Valin said, gesturing to the ever-spinning goblin woman. Helbega had managed to keep her breakfast down, but it was becoming a process that she had to actively take mental command of, which was a task no one ever had any fun with, centrifuged or otherwise. This kept her general displeasure at the situation to a quiet screech that they could not even hear above the drone of the magichine itself, and with the added sirens, it was a near impossibility from inside the bowels of the metallic beast. “Let's be serious here,” Dav said, getting up close to Valin. “If we don't get those sirens off and get this back producing, I'm going to have to give you-- a warning.” The emphasis Dav gave the word 'warning' was as if he were trying to swing a much heavier epithet and crushing Valin's soul with it. The barrel-bellied man hoisted himself up to his full height and adjusted his cap to look down almost a full head down at Dav and sniffed. The threat had not made the intended impact that Dav would have liked. It had meant to try and stop Valin in his tracks, but had failed so spectacularly that the rather unimposing Dav felt rather threatened himself by his mere attempt at it. Valin stared down his manager with the glare that abominations made of nothing but eyes saved for their prey, and Dav was sufficiently petrified. “You can give me as many warnings as you want, but I'm still going to go over there and hit that button,” Valin said.
December 12, 2025 at 2:31 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
The jesters would see you bawling, hand you a note that says 'no', and then cartwheel away.

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Even the floor doubled the room's value. It was composed of a beautiful marble found only in Otul, which made it all the more impressive, given that it was usually frowned upon to ship it out of the country. The phrase 'frowned upon' doing a lot of work, as the Queen of Otul would frown at someone with such ferocity, it is said, that they would admit to crimes they committed when they were naught more than a child and had been extremely petty infractions. How the Wohdian Queen managed to pull off such an act was not even known to her-- she just assumed people felt increasingly guilty while in her presence and just wanted her approval that much. It wasn't so much a physical punishment, but her gift given to her by Titania as a blessing when the Queen was yet a small child, unable to understand the full ramifications of such a 'blessing.' Such nasty emotional scars marred both the Queen and those that she frowned upon, with both of them being none the wiser as the why, only that they suddenly felt monumentally depressed after the interaction. Such a deep mental wound that it was considered a punishment in its own right, even if it had not been intended as one. A wound so deep that even Assurance Jesters deemed them 'preexisting' conditions as they transcended time, which was nonsensical, and was done mostly because they didn't want to pay therapists.
December 11, 2025 at 4:30 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Shh, the rich man on the ORBS is talking.

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“Oh, you aren't familiar with O.R.B.S.?” Eliza, along with anyone who wasn't born and bred in Port Savant, was not all that familiar with the Optical Relay Broadcasting System. Wizards in Port Savant had been paid good money to develop a system that allowed the best of the best to be piped into every household in the city. It had been a confusing request, but one-- which plied with copious promises of wealth-- the wizards were more than happy to oblige instead of developing better ways to blow each other up. Some of the initial prototypes had been more than capable weapons in the wrong hands, though. The ORBS system was originally designed to allow people to see the best people in the city, which meant the richest. This, of course, was merely a flimsy excuse to share all the fantastic products available from all the businesses around Port Savant. From the freshest produce to the newest innovations in ORBS technology, like colored ORBS and ORBS that could put your face on the people inside. This led to a wide outbreak of doppelgangers wandering the streets. This also led to the widespread usage of fine print, even though the Assurance industry claimed to have thought of it first. A lengthy legal battle ensued between the two, but was discarded when it was discovered that both had stolen it from ancient Legalese and were attempting to pass it off as their own. The news channels that had mysteriously cropped up tried to turn this into a media circus far before such an idea should have been developed-- in a civilized society, it would have been closer to never-- but the average person was far too busy trying to survive to find any entertainment from watching two useless businesses fight each other.
December 10, 2025 at 8:40 AM
cnsebright.bsky.social
The COIN branched out into more legal crimes like wage theft and less ancient artifact smuggling

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“Not 'sell' really. I just want to see it become a reality. I think it is a rather grand invention that could help a lot of people in the long run. Especially people without magical abilities.” “Now, now, don't sell yourself short. A good idea in the right hands is worth a lot, and Port Savant rewards ingenuity. Come on, let me show you what Port Savant has to offer. I think I know the perfect place for you,” Goah said. He waved his arm toward the large structure once more. “The COIN!” “Yeah, I guess they might be interested in what I have to offer. With a building so large, I'd probably have to redesign it somewhat. I used to know someone who worked there, actually, and she never said anything about them taking suggestions from outside interests. They were strictly,” Eliza trailed off as she tried to think of the exact phrasing that had been used to describe their business model. “Import and export?” “They've branched out in recent years,” Goah said, nodding at Eliza's description. “Ever since the tragic loss of Varrc's adoptive son, he's taken on a few more interesting endeavors. It has really expanded his profits. He's a real inspiration to the people of Port Savant, showcasing that even a lowly hob can become such a pillar of the community is a testament to the Port Savant way of life.” Eliza gave Goah a discerning look. While at first blush, Goah had purportedly loved Varcc and everything that he had done for the city, there was a word that Goah had bandied about rather loosely that had not gone unnoticed. It felt like Goah was trying to hide it, but it was almost like a deep-seated jealousy or possibly pent-up resentment for Varcc over truly wanting to celebrate the magnate's accomplishments.
December 9, 2025 at 9:29 AM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Wow, this snip is pretty empty.

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The auditorium itself was near empty. It could have held far more people and was usually used for expensive bardic performances that the normal folks would have to save months to afford to watch some ego-laden musician prance about, only to have his voice magically projected to everyone. Half the time, they didn't even sing, just brought magically inscribed discs to play while they danced and pretended to sing. For now, the auditorium that could hold hundreds sat with merely six.
December 7, 2025 at 5:17 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
I've always liked the phrase 'by hook or by crook'; in this case, L.A. Savant is the crook.

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The citizens of Port Savant – which the people of Southport were, technically, even if the General Public of Port Savant didn't like to admit it, unless they were talking to a neighboring city state or some foreigner maligning the atrocities of L.A. Savant himself and would bring up their diversity in a heart beat -- had become somewhat priced out of living in the city that many of their own ancestors had helped to build, in many cases by hook or crook. They could only afford to make their homes outside the city walls, a practice that had caught on and continued now for several years, as the prices of houses continued to grow exponentially and were quickly trickling into even Southport itself, which was forcing families to send their children to work to afford a place to live. They could, in theory, up and leave, but where would they go? Port Savant was the best city in the world, and if they couldn't make it there, what hope did they have to make it anywhere else?
December 6, 2025 at 6:18 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
A dastardly abomination meant only to torment.

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Eliza had not quite shaken the sonic attack from the beast that had beset only her for some reason. Goah was positively perplexed by the entire notion and even more so when she tried to describe the idea of a duck with the neck of a serpent. When she had added the idea of such a creature wearing a hat, it was simply right out. He continued to insist that it was culture shock, but the more Eliza tried to assert what she had seen as being real and not some fantasy, the more the Goah continued to press the line, to a point he was obviously getting sick of repeating himself. Eliza had all but given up and decided that perhaps he was right and the city and all the various oddities were getting to her. Eliza stumbled forward to the only object in the minimalist vestibule, a reception desk that was only there because it had been designated as mandatory for day-to-day business. Had it not been required, there would have been nothing, as it threw off the mystique the original artist was going for. When asked what this mystique was, the overpaid 'building artist' would refer you to their agent. This agent never managed to get back to anyone who inquired. It was the only useful thing any agent of any stripe was paid to do, which, in effect, made them nothing more than an overpaid receptionist who screened calls and was not all that useful for one person to have.
December 5, 2025 at 4:12 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Wizards put themselves in the dominant spellcaster spot and may not deserve to be there.

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"Very well," Commander Duens said, " I know how to handle troublemakers like him." She began waving her hands about in a telltale pattern and uttering an arcane phrase or two. Flik knew this song-and-dance all too well. He'd seen people use it before and had used it once or twice himself. As the words finished and began to manifest, rushing toward Flik, Flik pulled out the magic user's ace in the hole. Flik snapped his fingers, and the magic, startled by the sudden noise and a rather brazen usage of such a motion, dispersed back from whence it came. A wicked smile curled onto Commander Duens' face. "A wizard's duel, is it?" Commander's Duens asked, "It has been quite a while since I've had an adequate challenge. I'll have you know. I was trained by the preeminent Aercadian masters and majored in aether--" "Oh no, look out behind you," Flik shouted, gesturing enthusiastically. Captain Duens turned to find nothing of great import. The empty street she was commissioned to protect lay beyond, with not a soul in sight. The buildings on either side of the road seemed remarkably taller than she remembered. She also did not remember having such a fondness for fish, nor such an affinity for water. She could go for a dip right now; her shell was feeling a bit dry. She found it remarkably odd that she had a shell at the moment. Flik let out a worried sigh as Captain Duens and most of her forces ambled around hopelessly in their new turtle forms. He had hoped not to start slinging spells before ever reaching whatever it was they were supposed to combat, and now he was down two, and patrons didn't give those things out in bulk. They portioned them out in tiny little bowls, and he'd have to wait before Jaleatesh-- despite how benevolent she was compared to other patrons--divvied out more to him. He picked up the turtle version of Commander Duens and set her on the ground, so she didn't take a long fall off her horse.
December 3, 2025 at 3:33 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
100% original form of government, do not enact.
November 30, 2025 at 6:20 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
This democracy tastes oddly like an oligarchy with faux democratic characteristics.

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“I don't have time for this,” Stephanie said, interrupting her. “Just go, I don't have time to check you in. I have to get going, or I'll miss my chance to vote.” “Or you're going to vote? That's important,” Eliza conceded. “I assume that's where you were,” Stephanie said, still trying to collect her things while being constantly distracted. Had Stephanie thought through this process to any definitive degree, she would have realized that this was generally impossible. The average production floor worker did not have the same sort of privileges that someone of a different color collar did. They could not go out on their lunch to participate in democracy-- or the facsimile that passed for it around these parts. Of course, this was mostly by design. Limiting the time in which the common dregs got to vote prevented them from making good things possible. Common Port Savant political theory dictated that such a group would easily sway any poll, given the sheer number of them in the city. Thus, the voter blocs were divided into the League, the Delegation, and finally, the largest party: Unvoters. A group comprised of those who could not, would not, or didn't think they should because they hadn't followed politics since their parents told them what party they belonged to in their youth, and couldn't make an informed opinion on subjects beyond their ken. Still, it was not helped when those of political prowess or wealth-- the Venn diagram a near circle-- also managed to paint all those ‘good things’ as actually horrid and generally against the Port Savant way of life. The beneficiaries of these laws were obfuscated on the ORBS, and the general public had no idea what they were about, even if they had an opportunity to vote on them.
November 30, 2025 at 4:26 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
A dedicated invisible platform at exactly shin height felt like a directed attack from the gnomes

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The Deliverer spell was a near-invisible square of aether that floated, unfortunately, exactly at shin height above the ground for most humans; the gnome that had designed it had not really taken this into account, nor did he care when they complained. It had been designed to carry large quantities of bricks from the point where they had mistakenly been delivered to the point where he had been building a garden wall. It was almost a joke among the wizarding community because of how one could pay a few copper coins to an adventurer to carry the same amount and far faster than the spell ever could. This, of course, was before the discovery that the Deliverer did not need to move simply at shin height, but could, in fact, with enough magic, move vertically. The general speed for the amount of magic one had to utilize to use the spell was still a major hindrance to anyone who would want to use it for any real practical usage. It did have usage for impractical things, like buildings far larger than they ought to be. Many buildings of outrageous size, not to The COIN's specifications, obviously, but large enough and in need of bringing substantial amounts of people or objects upward, would make a room dedicated to such endeavors. Of course, this led to the problem of having to hire wizards to staff the rooms, which meant hiring numerous wizards to keep the rooms running at peak efficiency. The larger the building, the more wizards were needed to keep the Deliverer working at all. This proved a problem for Varcc who did not want to hire the amount of wizards necessary to keep the room running at all hours of the day, but also could not find a mage in the whole of Port Savant that knew the spell and no longer trusted warlocks enough to hire another one, plus they were rather prone to run off on the whims of their patrons, which Varcc saw as a detriment to their overall work ethic.
November 29, 2025 at 3:03 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
I didn't have the word today, but a thought has been bubbling since I saw the prompt this morning.

Impede
Noun
A mass movement of imps coming to stop you from going about your day, and certainly ruining it with poking and prodding of various sorts.
November 26, 2025 at 9:51 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
Like all the rich people in the room, Phasun held up a stolen potion and said: "This is mine."

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“Perhaps to you or me,” Phasun said, though he had quite lost the finer usage of his sense of touch, what with the systemic decay of most of his nervous system. “But to the layman, it’ll be indecipherable. So until we can come up with a proper idea that doesn’t end up being too costly, or uprooting our entire way of life, I’ve come up with this.” Phasun produced a bottle of some rather innocuous pink liquid. It swirled on its own, a deep, cloudy hue of color running through it. “What is it?” Drant the Lesser said, “I hardly doubt some pink stuff is going to quell some minor indigestion, let alone some wonky ocean.” “This, my dear Drant the Lesser, is a potion by the great and industrious L’huf,” Phasun said, presenting it even more proudly. “That Cohesivist alchemist dolt?” Drant barked. “What’s it going to do, give us all frog warts?”
November 25, 2025 at 4:06 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
A travel agent once kicked my puppy, so now I mock travel ads in text—a true evil origin story.

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A scenic montage of Port Savant began to play, showing the vast majority of the city. The large industrious cityscape, the vibrant blue ocean that didn’t appear to be actively trying to destroy anything, the lush greenery of an ever encroaching forest, were all at the front and center as music began to swell and narration began as the picturesque scenes continued to play and people were shown smiling and happy. They were all enjoying rather mundane and typical activities at locations that didn’t resemble anything that the narration was showing. It confused Eliza, but she tried her best to focus on the dubbing and ignore the disjointed visuals. “Welcome to Port Savant, the most fantastic city in all of Steorrata-- so says, well, everyone. From the gleaming oceans of the Serul Sea to the open farmland of greater Sedarin, Port Savant is looked upon in envy by all other cities in the world. It is home to not one but two of the wonders of the world!” Text flashed at the bottom of the ORB: As listed by the "Almost Complete Guide to Steorrata," COIN edition. “First, it is home to the largest tower globally, located in scenic downtown Port Savant. The COIN HQ has been an established business in Port Savant for over 50 years. As Port Savant grew into the bustling metropolis that so many people have come to see and love, so has the HQ blossomed into the largest architectural wonder in the world. Run by one of, if not the wealthiest, person in all of Steorrata, the wonderfully altruistic Hob, Varcc. A better person you'd be unlikely to find anywhere else on the whole of Steorrata in both economic know-how and being kind-hearted, and should be considered a wonder of the world himself. The Guide's authors have told us that it will not be accepting people on many occasions, so please stop asking, but we do anyway, because if you were this exceptional, shouldn't you really be on such a list?
November 23, 2025 at 3:31 PM
cnsebright.bsky.social
My latest excerpts have been lacking that certain special something. I hope this one does better.

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Nowadays, the faithful only used the temple during a few special holy days. The rest of the time, the temple was flooded, and Drentz himself maintained residence there, vacating only on his birthday and on the few occasions when the other deities wanted to hold a meeting, usually when Winzett felt like drinking with someone who could hold their liquor without dying. Drentz loved the solitude of his ancestral home. It gave him time to think and practice his passions that he was worried to show others, lest they make fun of him. The times that Sindras had mocked his hobbies, he could hardly count on one hand, which was made all the more difficult when he could make as many digits as he deemed necessary on any of his various appendages. Today, the temple was mostly flooded, making it impossible for visitors to show up randomly. No boat could navigate the pillars and currents that protected the front of the temple; many had tried. Some faithful, hoping to gaze upon the visage of their deity, and some few thieves, thinking a temple with no guards or clergy would be easy pickings. Of course, this neglected the general wrath that followed from stealing from any deity. Still, anyone who would steal from a church was either greedy enough not to care or in such dire straits that it was the only acceptable course of action to survive. It was the difficulty of getting to the temple during the more perilous seasons that the High Priest of Drentz, Magulus Lindwyn of the Port Savant sect of the faithful, was so grateful for a wizard to have joined the flock.
November 20, 2025 at 4:06 PM
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Sometimes you just have to accept you live in some backwarder burg.

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For a moment, none of the trio moved. They were in far more danger than the crowd that had taken refuge at the edge of the forest as soon as the waters had appeared-- in what was a far more sensible move. The ocean bubbled at the three of them. Flik took Eliza by the wrist and motioned toward Zeippe. Eliza grabbed onto Zeippe's shoulder. They waited. The ocean plashed. As one unit, they all took a step backward and held their breath to see how it reacted. The ocean sloshed. They took another. It purled. They ran. It roiled and foamed, but not at them so much as a passing seagull that had gotten delusions of grandeur and decided to float lazily on top of it. The trio made it safely back to the waiting crowd, which all released a collective sigh of relief. Many of the Savantians were now growing antsy. The general atmosphere was quickly metamorphosing from one of unfettered unity to something more akin to a chimpanzee who had found a torch and a keg of gunpowder, with a keen willingness to use them both, unaware of the effects soon to befall them.
November 18, 2025 at 4:32 PM
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I enjoy writing about awful people being awful to each other.

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“Worse?” Eron asked. “How do you know it’ll be worse? Do you know what it is?” “Of course, we know,” Phasun said. “We did studies on it when it first happened, and we determined that in order to fix it, it would cost too much money.” “Too much?” Milo interjected. “What of my silks from the Archipelago? I spend inordinate amounts of gold buying and getting them shipped in. Any more money and I may have to make a dent in my family fortune.” Varcc let out a wearied sigh. “Listen, if the silks are just for you, get a mage on retainer-- don’t bother with a wizard, their guilds are too good and druids have ethical concerns when it comes to stealing from the Archipelago.” “Stealing, I’ll have you know--” Varcc held up his hands in mock surrender. “However you come about them doesn’t matter. If you use the silk on your normal goods, think more economically and use cheaper local materials or have the mage reproduce them for a cheaper influx and save the real stuff for your personal use. If the lot of you had any actual business sense between you-- woe to the world.” “Yes, good on, Mr. Varcc,” Phasun said, knowing full well that Hobs did not like pointless gendered titles. “Sadly, solving the ocean crisis isn’t so simple as using cheap materials to satisfy the gullible populace. The ocean slowly invading the city and throwing them out to sea is fairly obvious compared to cotton and silk.” “It’s actually very noticeable,” Milo said, caressing the fabric of his robes.
November 17, 2025 at 3:01 PM
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Goldist Tenet: Anyone with a good idea does not own that idea if they have no means to use it.

Did you like this bit from my WIP "Opportunity Lost"? Please check these out.
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“Well, I have this idea and perhaps I could run it by--” “Oh, no!” Gerund said, covering his ears. “Young lady, don’t say another word,” Rais said, breaking from his cogitation. “What? Why?” Eliza asked. “Ideas in Port Savant are something like a copper a dozen. They are everywhere and, sadly, that gives certain people the idea that they can commodify the very notion of a thought,” Rais said. “You want to steal my idea?” Eliza asked, confused by Rais’ explanation. “Not in the slightest, but sadly, if you were to tell Gerund or myself anything about it, we would have to.” “Have to? Even if I just asked your opinion on it?” “Yes. It is-- sadly-- in our contracts. Any idea we come up with or even hear can be co-opted by The COIN as their own because we are but lowly employees,” Rais said, shaking his head. “It is an unfair stipulation hidden in there in Legalese of all things. I knew I should have read it better before I signed, but with a chance to work for The COIN, I was rather blinded, you understand.” “It does seem like a good opportunity,” Eliza conceded. “It seems that way, yes,” Gerund said, finally taking the fingers out of his ears. They had, as always, been performative gestures. Gerund had not wanted to overhear any ideas of Eliza’s lest he himself get stuck making them. Not the noblest of intentions, but one could not accuse him of wanting to steal other people’s ideas. “It would, perhaps, be best if you just took your idea straight to Varcc and pitched it to him. Less likely for him to steal it if you do.” “He wouldn’t steal it, would he?” The two lab workers looked at each other for a moment, and both gave each other a shrug. “Less likely,” Rais said. “That little tidbit in our contract just makes it easier for him to do it,” Gerund said. “If you tell him directly, he can’t easily claim that it was just parallel thinking.”
November 16, 2025 at 2:43 PM