By C. L. Clark — 27 Aug 2025

Warmongers: A Tease

Or, Aphrodisiacs are worldbuilding, too

Earlier this week, I posted a bit of a process time capsule, something I originally wrote and intended to post back in April. I mentioned in it that I skipped ahead to write a cough certain scene, so I’ve decided to follow that post up with a snippet from that certain scene: the first bone. Ironically, under the influence of a maybe-magical but definitely potent aphrodisiac hallucinogen made of ground bone. Or, to be precise, horn. Actually, to be most precise, tusk.

How many times do you think my group chats have made 'horny' jokes? Whatever your guess is, the answer is higher.

scrivener app screen shot depicting the section: “Past: Ngkiv and Díránghà in Nwesou - song in the tavern - piece/clue…” — i love scrivener

I've actually gone back and forth several times on where these two should knock boots for the first time, and since their relationship is the entire hinge of the book, that detail is surprisingly important for the sake of the pacing that I want the story to have. How much investment the reader has in them, how much you believe in their love before we get to the enemies arc in the present day. (That's not a spoiler--it's the first chapter and it's in the announcement copy. Surprise!)

Anyway, voila! The current site of the first bone! Which is different from the previous first bone. And will possibly not be the last version of the first bone. Check back here in a couple years against the final copy.

I wanted to laugh, as I had with Kaz and Dyom, but it didn’t come. My mouth was dry. Holding tight to the pouch in my hand, I wrapped an arm around her waist and we stumbled to the room next to the boys. Now I really could hear them, and probably the rest of the inn could too. I wondered if the broker who had sold the horn was down there laughing at the easy marks. Then I wondered how much Kaz had paid, exactly, for the pleasure.
Ngkiv cleared her throat. She was waiting for me to release her and give her her privacy.
Her thick muscled waist was sturdy and hard beneath my fingers. The warmth of her breath at my ear, then, when I met her gaze, across my lips. I let her go, and before that reasonable part of myself could protest any louder, I dumped a handful of powder into my palm and huffed it all in one go, the same dose Ngkiv had taken in two.
It burned. Dancer’s dick, but it burned from my nose all the way to my eyeballs and beyond. Some of it thickened to snot and drained down the back of my throat, leaving a chalk-tasting bitter on the back of my tongue.
“Fuck!” I shouted. I pressed my hands against my streaming, burning eyes.
“Fuck,” Ngkiv echoed near me.
Blindly, I reached out, felt for the cloth of her tunic and gripped it. Felt up from there until I found the neck of it, then her neck, her jaw, then I clasped both hands around her face and kissed her.
This was not the horn. This was all the frustration that had dwelt in me since I’d first seen her, tall and bronze-skinned, sweating in her wraps and nothing else in the training yard. This was every night since she’d grunted beneath me in surprise in Tayw’s camp. This was every waking moment since the kiss in Kathu’s bar.
“Fuck you, Ngkiv,” I growled into her mouth.
“Fuck you, Díránghà.”

Things heat up after that, but I have to leave you something to look forward to later. 😉

Until next time, stay sharp, my friends.

C. L.

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