Wednesday, July 08, 2009
One year and Counting...
I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back a bit, 'cause me and my lovely Wife Kristina just celebrated our first year of marriage! Maybe its not that big a deal, but somehow there's a notion in Society that alot of marriages don't last that long (and not just celebrity ones) We still love each other more than we annoy each other (most days haha) so I'm counting one year up as a win! We checked out Saskatoon's Shakespeare on The Saskatchewan's presentation of 'Midsummer Night's Dream. It was excellent.
Now since I said I would, I will upload the modified Prologue for 'Mirror, Mirror'. I'm having trouble figuring out how the first few chapters should go, to get Dawn into the other world. I usually don't have trouble with the fantasy stuff, its the real world writing that gives me grief. Anyway here it is, for what it is:
It was past midnight when the guards brought Abe forcibly through the door, roughly pushing the small shaking man to his knees before a low stone table. A rough hand hard as stone pulled a thick bag from his head, leaving Abe blinded by the sudden light. Abe tried to stand but a boot from behind pushed him down again, and this time he stayed still, shaking from pain and fear as much as from the cold. They had kicked down his door, stolen him in the night. Abe had thought himself safe, safe at last. Safe was the last thing that he felt now. He was terrified and cold. The sleeping gown Abe wore did not do much to keep out the chill that the room was emerged in.
"Where am I?" He asked after several minutes. There was no response. He didn't bother to ask who they were; he knew who they were. He had always known his enemy and what they were capable of. Somewhere in his mind he knew this day would come, but he had always thought it would be tomorrow. He supposed that it was after midnight, he had heard the great clock tower chime, the sound muffled through the sack that had been on his head. Today was tomorrow and here he was. The only thing Abe could not puzzle out was why he was not dead. There could only be one reason for that, Abe decided, and that was because they needed him. For some reason, unfathomable by Abe himself, he had become useful again. That gave the small man hope and he pursed his lips. Perhaps the date of his death would continue to be tomorrow after all. Slowly, painstakingly Abe eased his head up and looked around. The more he knew, the better equipped he would be to be useful.
Under Abe the floor was hard and stone, unforgiving and cold. The walls that he saw were the same cut, impenetrable and solid. Shelves lined the walls and books filled the shelves. Ancient tomes old and musty lay piled on top of newer volumes and shared residence with narrow tubes of tightly rolled scrolls and loose paper alike. Stone tablets lay leaning against walls, too heavy for the wood of the book cases and had, themselves, become tasked with holding still more books and papers. There was a stone table as well, thick slab and polished to a black mirror finish, piled high with writing tools; quills, ink pots with different coloured inks, paper weights sculpted into frightening creatures and sharp knives and course thread for binding pages. A small lamp hanging on a stand by the desk provided light to the entire room. It was a library and though every part of it screamed chaos and disorder, Abe could see that everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. He had a knack for seeing patterns.
Finally, there was a door at the opposite side of the library, behind the black polished desk, and now it opened to reveal a very distinguished looking man in the robes of a Librarian. Abe narrowed his eyes, he hadn't seen a Librarian for a very long time, but he remembered them vividly. The man's face was different, a squarish shape of grey almost bark-like texture with eyes like golden amber, but nothing else had changed. White robes slipping to the floor, layered hundreds of times and written all over with words in a thousand different languages had lost no detail over time. The cold demeanor remained along with a detached view of life as if they were above them, demi-gods in their own right. Pretentious. Abe remembered well the Librarians; he remembered that he hated them. Suddenly his need to be useful to this man seemed much less important than it had been a minute ago. Abe spat on the floor by the desk. The Librarian actively ignored the gesture.
The Librarian did not at first speak, but settled himself into a chair on the other side of the table and took some time to arrange several items in front of himself. A quill and parchment, the paper weighed down by a gargoyle and a leopard. His hands made a flourish of pulling a small package from his robes and place it on the desk to his right. Only when everything had found it's proper place in front of the man, did he raise his amber eyes and stare down at Abe, still kneeling and shivering in his bed clothes in front of the black desk.
"Abe Capus," The Librarian started, "for a time we had believed you dead like the rest of your threader brethern."
Abe grunted, "good. I went to alot of trouble to give that ah... illusion. I trust you had a devil of a time finding me?" He chuckled but then grimaced, pain lancing up his side. One of the guards had struck him to stop Abe from running and the bruise was rising red and hot now, making movement painful.
"Hmm, indeed. Troublesome." The Librarian gestured and a rough hand brought Abe to his feet. "I am glad that your skill has not deserted you. It would be unfortunate for your life to be spared only to have lost your magic. Some might call that a sacrifice not worth making."
Abe's blue eyes burned with fury, "Sacrifice. Heh. What do you know of sacrifice? Were you there? Did you see the piles; burning. The flesh sacrifice your kind made of us made to your beautiful Queen? The ash rose to the ceiling, suffocating."
"I did not exist then, but I have read about it. I have committed every detail to memory. Every Librarian since has." The Librarian waved his hand again, dismissing the the topic with a finely boned hand. "I am more interested in the present, and how we can help each other now."
"That's the way it is. You're forgotten until someone decides that you're useful again." Abe glanced around warily, "might be I can help, though you've got a strange way of asking. Still, I most likely won't, you being who you are and me being who I am and all."
"There could be no room left for refusal." The Librarian said plainly, "your acceptance is not optional, you will help us."
"Heh. I think you might not have taken into account that I still remember how Librarian's helped kill my order. You books and Cloaks have alot of blood on your hands; blood I used to know. No amount of threats will change my mind about that." Abe said. "And I don't have much left to lose. Seems I'm already dead, it'd be aweful hard to threaten me with taking away something that I don't have anymore."
"Hmm. Yes, perceptive of you." A slight smile graced the Librarian's lips, a ghost on the pale face. "No I thought to offer you something that you'd lost. For what it is worth, I personally think the events at the end of the war were a waste, so much loss for so little gain. My ancestors thought it would bring eternal peace. Recent history has proved them wrong, very very wrong." There was almost a hint of sadness in the Librarian's voice, "I hope to remedy some of their past mistakes. Pay back some of what has been taken."
"Well let's hear your offer so I can refuse it." Abe said. Somewhere inside his head there was a voice telling him that he wasn't being careful, that this man in front of him could solve all the problems, fix all the wrongs. Another curious part of his brain was aching to see what this Librarian would offer him; Librarians were collectors and seekers of knowledge, it might be anything, depending on the task they would commission him for. There was, of course, the wary Abe Capus, the hand that had been burned, or so close to burned, that it was not likely to play with fire again. The memories of the burning piles stood out fresh in his mind, the smoke ever present.
"Do not be so quick to judge the son by the father," The Librarian reached into the his robes and withdrew an egg shaped device that glowed golden colors of fire. It was bound with silver chains and upon the chains hung seven locks each lock wrought from a different colored gem stone. The colors shone off Abe's face and his eyes opened wide in wonder, all thoughts of revenge and vengence slipping form his mind.
"A fate egg..." He shook his head, "it's a trick. They were destroyed in the Fire."
The Librarian smiled, not unkindly, "you of all people should know that a dragon's egg is not so easily consumed."
"The Queen..."
"The Queen slumbers. True, her angels always watch us but they are confined to their orders. THe eggs were destroyed, every one of them. Just the same as you died with all the threaders that day." The Librarian said, leaning forward and holding the egg out, the golden colors splashing across his pale hand. "One lock was opened when we claimed it, no doubt in service of your old master, one lock we require you to open for us. The other five are yours. So long as you use the egg to change one fate for us, I care not how you bind the others. That is the deal I offer you."
"A fate egg." Abe reached out with his hand and reverantly plucked the egg from the Librarian's hand. It was warm, as warm as the first time Abe had held one. His fingers still knew the way of them, the hidden patterns and secret lines. His mind raced back, before the War when there had been much peace. Master Oshi had led the youth through the labryths, them running and playing while he had walked crooked with age, cane in hand. At last they came to a door that only fate magic could open and he found the doors thread and pulled it so it would open. Into the vault he led the childern. Abe remembered stopping at his play, walking in reverence; even the childern could feel the power of this place. The eggs had been in the middle, on a wooden bench and Old Oshi had let them all touch it.
"One day," he had told them, "One day you will use one of these to great consequence." They had been warm that day too, the fate eggs.
Standing in the cold Library room, holding the egg, Abe felt suddenly warm.
"I'll do it."
The Librarian smiled, but there was no warmth in it, "I knew you would. How would you like to proceed?"
"With haste," a grin broke out on Abe Capus's face. The egg glowed warmer in his hands and seemed to drink all the other light in the room. Golden rays glinted off Abe's wide smile, his teeth gleaming wild. "You wanted a threader, you got him! Let's put this world on its ear!"
Abe lifted the egg above his head and the egg shone all the brighter. Shadows were cast, shadows that squirmed and wriggled like worms in a fire, snaking all through the room and trying to hide from the light. As the light increased, so did the depth of the shadows until it could be plainly seen by everyone in the room that the shadows were threads, some thick some thin.
"Blackest sorcery!" Muttered a guard behind Abe, but the Librarian said nothing, taking it all in with his amber eyes, a smile playing across his lips.
"No, its a magic that hasn't been seen for a hundred years... Fate magic." the Librarian breathed.
Carefully Abe carressed the egg and the one of the locks popped open with an audible 'BOOM' much too loud for such a small device. The sound echoed through stone and bones, reverbrating time itself. The fate threads twisted away from it. From the open lock out hissed a red thread, firey and thick. It's head twitched and snapped back and forth as it spooled out from the egg. Abe looked at it wild passion in his eyes.
"A neutral fate thread. Haven't seen one of those before eh? Its powerful enough to change any fate, any destiny. Now we have to be quick... it'll consume other threads if we let it, trying to find it's place in the world. What fate do you need changing?"
The Librarian passed his hand over the document that he had laid out on his desk. There was a fat solid looking thread attached to it and it ran out off and through the ceiling above them. "This prophesy. I need it to happen sooner than it is meant to."
Abe gritted his teeth. Prophesies were dangereous to meddle with. "How much sooner?"
"As soon as possible."
"You'll get it..." Abe reached out with his hand and gestured, the thread coming out of the scroll stiffened and then pulled itself closer to Abe. THe firey thread from the egg, looked at it hungrily and Abe muttered words under his breath. The two threads melded, twining together with a flash of light brighter than the glow from the egg. When the flash had subsided the scroll's thread was flecked with red, like dying embers. THere had been a moment of struggle, but the red thread was the stronger and overwealmed it's victim. Abe let his hands fall, still clutching the egg fiercly in his right.
"There, it's done. Whatever prophesy you wanted, it's going to happen sooner than later. Now, if its all right with you, sir, the sight of you sickens me. I'll be taking my leave." Abe started to turn, waiting for the command he knew would come. He held tight to the fate egg with it's two opened locks.
The Librarian consulted the prophesy on the table and smiled, noting the changed phrases, the accelerated dates of the occurrence. He nodded his head quietly and proceeded to roll the scroll back up and tuck it away into his sleeve.
"You know why your side lost, Abe Capus?" The Librarian said mildly, "Trust. To think you thought we would let a master of Fate magic keep one of the most powerful Fate artifacts ever created. You must be a fool!"
"No," Abe said grimly, "I'm not."
His fingers worked fast on the surface of the egg and of a sudden the threads were back, one to bind everything. The guards loomed forward, rough hands grasping but Abe's fingers were quicker, he plucked at their fate strings and sent them sprawling off balance. The Librarian roared, an unearthly sound coming from someone who looked so mild and fragile, and leapt from the floor onto the top of his desk in a flurry of white silk. Abe grabbed hold of the Librarian's thread and his face split in a wicked grin.
"Careful, that locked opened up alot of energy, seems I can do a few more things than when your men kicked down my door." Abe backed towards the exit and everyone in the room was powerless to stop him.
"Fate is a funny thing, it hates to be lied to. You said I'd be given this egg and my freedom. That was a lie, apparently, but I'm going to make it true. fate likes that, likes when things happen that are supposed to happen. Even though I changed your prophesy, Fate likes for what was supposed to have happened, to have happened. Remember that Librarian." Abe made a stiff little bow and vanished through the door.
the guards made to pursue, but the Librarian halted them with a wave of his hand.
"It's useless. He was won that game." The Librarian pulled out the scroll from his sleeve and tapped it against the desk, "or perhaps we've won after all." The Librarian smiled his thin pleasant smile again and retreated through the door he had entered through. The guards blew out the candle and the room was dark.
I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back a bit, 'cause me and my lovely Wife Kristina just celebrated our first year of marriage! Maybe its not that big a deal, but somehow there's a notion in Society that alot of marriages don't last that long (and not just celebrity ones) We still love each other more than we annoy each other (most days haha) so I'm counting one year up as a win! We checked out Saskatoon's Shakespeare on The Saskatchewan's presentation of 'Midsummer Night's Dream. It was excellent.
Now since I said I would, I will upload the modified Prologue for 'Mirror, Mirror'. I'm having trouble figuring out how the first few chapters should go, to get Dawn into the other world. I usually don't have trouble with the fantasy stuff, its the real world writing that gives me grief. Anyway here it is, for what it is:
It was past midnight when the guards brought Abe forcibly through the door, roughly pushing the small shaking man to his knees before a low stone table. A rough hand hard as stone pulled a thick bag from his head, leaving Abe blinded by the sudden light. Abe tried to stand but a boot from behind pushed him down again, and this time he stayed still, shaking from pain and fear as much as from the cold. They had kicked down his door, stolen him in the night. Abe had thought himself safe, safe at last. Safe was the last thing that he felt now. He was terrified and cold. The sleeping gown Abe wore did not do much to keep out the chill that the room was emerged in.
"Where am I?" He asked after several minutes. There was no response. He didn't bother to ask who they were; he knew who they were. He had always known his enemy and what they were capable of. Somewhere in his mind he knew this day would come, but he had always thought it would be tomorrow. He supposed that it was after midnight, he had heard the great clock tower chime, the sound muffled through the sack that had been on his head. Today was tomorrow and here he was. The only thing Abe could not puzzle out was why he was not dead. There could only be one reason for that, Abe decided, and that was because they needed him. For some reason, unfathomable by Abe himself, he had become useful again. That gave the small man hope and he pursed his lips. Perhaps the date of his death would continue to be tomorrow after all. Slowly, painstakingly Abe eased his head up and looked around. The more he knew, the better equipped he would be to be useful.
Under Abe the floor was hard and stone, unforgiving and cold. The walls that he saw were the same cut, impenetrable and solid. Shelves lined the walls and books filled the shelves. Ancient tomes old and musty lay piled on top of newer volumes and shared residence with narrow tubes of tightly rolled scrolls and loose paper alike. Stone tablets lay leaning against walls, too heavy for the wood of the book cases and had, themselves, become tasked with holding still more books and papers. There was a stone table as well, thick slab and polished to a black mirror finish, piled high with writing tools; quills, ink pots with different coloured inks, paper weights sculpted into frightening creatures and sharp knives and course thread for binding pages. A small lamp hanging on a stand by the desk provided light to the entire room. It was a library and though every part of it screamed chaos and disorder, Abe could see that everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. He had a knack for seeing patterns.
Finally, there was a door at the opposite side of the library, behind the black polished desk, and now it opened to reveal a very distinguished looking man in the robes of a Librarian. Abe narrowed his eyes, he hadn't seen a Librarian for a very long time, but he remembered them vividly. The man's face was different, a squarish shape of grey almost bark-like texture with eyes like golden amber, but nothing else had changed. White robes slipping to the floor, layered hundreds of times and written all over with words in a thousand different languages had lost no detail over time. The cold demeanor remained along with a detached view of life as if they were above them, demi-gods in their own right. Pretentious. Abe remembered well the Librarians; he remembered that he hated them. Suddenly his need to be useful to this man seemed much less important than it had been a minute ago. Abe spat on the floor by the desk. The Librarian actively ignored the gesture.
The Librarian did not at first speak, but settled himself into a chair on the other side of the table and took some time to arrange several items in front of himself. A quill and parchment, the paper weighed down by a gargoyle and a leopard. His hands made a flourish of pulling a small package from his robes and place it on the desk to his right. Only when everything had found it's proper place in front of the man, did he raise his amber eyes and stare down at Abe, still kneeling and shivering in his bed clothes in front of the black desk.
"Abe Capus," The Librarian started, "for a time we had believed you dead like the rest of your threader brethern."
Abe grunted, "good. I went to alot of trouble to give that ah... illusion. I trust you had a devil of a time finding me?" He chuckled but then grimaced, pain lancing up his side. One of the guards had struck him to stop Abe from running and the bruise was rising red and hot now, making movement painful.
"Hmm, indeed. Troublesome." The Librarian gestured and a rough hand brought Abe to his feet. "I am glad that your skill has not deserted you. It would be unfortunate for your life to be spared only to have lost your magic. Some might call that a sacrifice not worth making."
Abe's blue eyes burned with fury, "Sacrifice. Heh. What do you know of sacrifice? Were you there? Did you see the piles; burning. The flesh sacrifice your kind made of us made to your beautiful Queen? The ash rose to the ceiling, suffocating."
"I did not exist then, but I have read about it. I have committed every detail to memory. Every Librarian since has." The Librarian waved his hand again, dismissing the the topic with a finely boned hand. "I am more interested in the present, and how we can help each other now."
"That's the way it is. You're forgotten until someone decides that you're useful again." Abe glanced around warily, "might be I can help, though you've got a strange way of asking. Still, I most likely won't, you being who you are and me being who I am and all."
"There could be no room left for refusal." The Librarian said plainly, "your acceptance is not optional, you will help us."
"Heh. I think you might not have taken into account that I still remember how Librarian's helped kill my order. You books and Cloaks have alot of blood on your hands; blood I used to know. No amount of threats will change my mind about that." Abe said. "And I don't have much left to lose. Seems I'm already dead, it'd be aweful hard to threaten me with taking away something that I don't have anymore."
"Hmm. Yes, perceptive of you." A slight smile graced the Librarian's lips, a ghost on the pale face. "No I thought to offer you something that you'd lost. For what it is worth, I personally think the events at the end of the war were a waste, so much loss for so little gain. My ancestors thought it would bring eternal peace. Recent history has proved them wrong, very very wrong." There was almost a hint of sadness in the Librarian's voice, "I hope to remedy some of their past mistakes. Pay back some of what has been taken."
"Well let's hear your offer so I can refuse it." Abe said. Somewhere inside his head there was a voice telling him that he wasn't being careful, that this man in front of him could solve all the problems, fix all the wrongs. Another curious part of his brain was aching to see what this Librarian would offer him; Librarians were collectors and seekers of knowledge, it might be anything, depending on the task they would commission him for. There was, of course, the wary Abe Capus, the hand that had been burned, or so close to burned, that it was not likely to play with fire again. The memories of the burning piles stood out fresh in his mind, the smoke ever present.
"Do not be so quick to judge the son by the father," The Librarian reached into the his robes and withdrew an egg shaped device that glowed golden colors of fire. It was bound with silver chains and upon the chains hung seven locks each lock wrought from a different colored gem stone. The colors shone off Abe's face and his eyes opened wide in wonder, all thoughts of revenge and vengence slipping form his mind.
"A fate egg..." He shook his head, "it's a trick. They were destroyed in the Fire."
The Librarian smiled, not unkindly, "you of all people should know that a dragon's egg is not so easily consumed."
"The Queen..."
"The Queen slumbers. True, her angels always watch us but they are confined to their orders. THe eggs were destroyed, every one of them. Just the same as you died with all the threaders that day." The Librarian said, leaning forward and holding the egg out, the golden colors splashing across his pale hand. "One lock was opened when we claimed it, no doubt in service of your old master, one lock we require you to open for us. The other five are yours. So long as you use the egg to change one fate for us, I care not how you bind the others. That is the deal I offer you."
"A fate egg." Abe reached out with his hand and reverantly plucked the egg from the Librarian's hand. It was warm, as warm as the first time Abe had held one. His fingers still knew the way of them, the hidden patterns and secret lines. His mind raced back, before the War when there had been much peace. Master Oshi had led the youth through the labryths, them running and playing while he had walked crooked with age, cane in hand. At last they came to a door that only fate magic could open and he found the doors thread and pulled it so it would open. Into the vault he led the childern. Abe remembered stopping at his play, walking in reverence; even the childern could feel the power of this place. The eggs had been in the middle, on a wooden bench and Old Oshi had let them all touch it.
"One day," he had told them, "One day you will use one of these to great consequence." They had been warm that day too, the fate eggs.
Standing in the cold Library room, holding the egg, Abe felt suddenly warm.
"I'll do it."
The Librarian smiled, but there was no warmth in it, "I knew you would. How would you like to proceed?"
"With haste," a grin broke out on Abe Capus's face. The egg glowed warmer in his hands and seemed to drink all the other light in the room. Golden rays glinted off Abe's wide smile, his teeth gleaming wild. "You wanted a threader, you got him! Let's put this world on its ear!"
Abe lifted the egg above his head and the egg shone all the brighter. Shadows were cast, shadows that squirmed and wriggled like worms in a fire, snaking all through the room and trying to hide from the light. As the light increased, so did the depth of the shadows until it could be plainly seen by everyone in the room that the shadows were threads, some thick some thin.
"Blackest sorcery!" Muttered a guard behind Abe, but the Librarian said nothing, taking it all in with his amber eyes, a smile playing across his lips.
"No, its a magic that hasn't been seen for a hundred years... Fate magic." the Librarian breathed.
Carefully Abe carressed the egg and the one of the locks popped open with an audible 'BOOM' much too loud for such a small device. The sound echoed through stone and bones, reverbrating time itself. The fate threads twisted away from it. From the open lock out hissed a red thread, firey and thick. It's head twitched and snapped back and forth as it spooled out from the egg. Abe looked at it wild passion in his eyes.
"A neutral fate thread. Haven't seen one of those before eh? Its powerful enough to change any fate, any destiny. Now we have to be quick... it'll consume other threads if we let it, trying to find it's place in the world. What fate do you need changing?"
The Librarian passed his hand over the document that he had laid out on his desk. There was a fat solid looking thread attached to it and it ran out off and through the ceiling above them. "This prophesy. I need it to happen sooner than it is meant to."
Abe gritted his teeth. Prophesies were dangereous to meddle with. "How much sooner?"
"As soon as possible."
"You'll get it..." Abe reached out with his hand and gestured, the thread coming out of the scroll stiffened and then pulled itself closer to Abe. THe firey thread from the egg, looked at it hungrily and Abe muttered words under his breath. The two threads melded, twining together with a flash of light brighter than the glow from the egg. When the flash had subsided the scroll's thread was flecked with red, like dying embers. THere had been a moment of struggle, but the red thread was the stronger and overwealmed it's victim. Abe let his hands fall, still clutching the egg fiercly in his right.
"There, it's done. Whatever prophesy you wanted, it's going to happen sooner than later. Now, if its all right with you, sir, the sight of you sickens me. I'll be taking my leave." Abe started to turn, waiting for the command he knew would come. He held tight to the fate egg with it's two opened locks.
The Librarian consulted the prophesy on the table and smiled, noting the changed phrases, the accelerated dates of the occurrence. He nodded his head quietly and proceeded to roll the scroll back up and tuck it away into his sleeve.
"You know why your side lost, Abe Capus?" The Librarian said mildly, "Trust. To think you thought we would let a master of Fate magic keep one of the most powerful Fate artifacts ever created. You must be a fool!"
"No," Abe said grimly, "I'm not."
His fingers worked fast on the surface of the egg and of a sudden the threads were back, one to bind everything. The guards loomed forward, rough hands grasping but Abe's fingers were quicker, he plucked at their fate strings and sent them sprawling off balance. The Librarian roared, an unearthly sound coming from someone who looked so mild and fragile, and leapt from the floor onto the top of his desk in a flurry of white silk. Abe grabbed hold of the Librarian's thread and his face split in a wicked grin.
"Careful, that locked opened up alot of energy, seems I can do a few more things than when your men kicked down my door." Abe backed towards the exit and everyone in the room was powerless to stop him.
"Fate is a funny thing, it hates to be lied to. You said I'd be given this egg and my freedom. That was a lie, apparently, but I'm going to make it true. fate likes that, likes when things happen that are supposed to happen. Even though I changed your prophesy, Fate likes for what was supposed to have happened, to have happened. Remember that Librarian." Abe made a stiff little bow and vanished through the door.
the guards made to pursue, but the Librarian halted them with a wave of his hand.
"It's useless. He was won that game." The Librarian pulled out the scroll from his sleeve and tapped it against the desk, "or perhaps we've won after all." The Librarian smiled his thin pleasant smile again and retreated through the door he had entered through. The guards blew out the candle and the room was dark.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
May
Just throwing in a post to make sure I remember to post. You'd think after all this time I'd have more to report. I don't. Not really. Well, nothing exciting.
Parables may never get published. Which is sad. It's mostly due to global economic struggles and Parables too edgy for Christians, too Christian for the public nature, which makes it just risky enough for people to not want to touch it. Might be it needs more sex and violence. Which would totally counteract what we're trying to do. I guess the world isn't ready for it yet, when it is, I guess we'll be here, waiting.
We're still going to finish our Piper entry for Paerables 2, I think mostly because Caroline has sunk awesome amounts of her skill and time into the project. We can't really let that go to waste. The story is good, but the art is amazing.
I've re-written the prologue for Mirror Mirror almost completely. Added a new character, changed the setting. Basic events remain the same, but this way there's less... weirdness, and more just story. It needs a serious edit, I'll post when done. Also took the time to write a proper outline. I have most of the book outlined so this version should actually have some direction and *gasp* themes that survive more than a few chapters! Wonder of wonders, I should write these outline things for all my projects! heh. Right.
Anyway, I'm alive
John.
Just throwing in a post to make sure I remember to post. You'd think after all this time I'd have more to report. I don't. Not really. Well, nothing exciting.
Parables may never get published. Which is sad. It's mostly due to global economic struggles and Parables too edgy for Christians, too Christian for the public nature, which makes it just risky enough for people to not want to touch it. Might be it needs more sex and violence. Which would totally counteract what we're trying to do. I guess the world isn't ready for it yet, when it is, I guess we'll be here, waiting.
We're still going to finish our Piper entry for Paerables 2, I think mostly because Caroline has sunk awesome amounts of her skill and time into the project. We can't really let that go to waste. The story is good, but the art is amazing.
I've re-written the prologue for Mirror Mirror almost completely. Added a new character, changed the setting. Basic events remain the same, but this way there's less... weirdness, and more just story. It needs a serious edit, I'll post when done. Also took the time to write a proper outline. I have most of the book outlined so this version should actually have some direction and *gasp* themes that survive more than a few chapters! Wonder of wonders, I should write these outline things for all my projects! heh. Right.
Anyway, I'm alive
John.
Friday, March 13, 2009
March 13th 2009,
Spring!
Hi all it's finally spring here in Saskatchewan again. I don't know why I'm surprised, it happens every year about this time. All I know is it's nice to be able to go outside without the definate threat of frostbite. Anywho, this is a small post, as life is gernerally good. No new exciting things with the comic projects as the recession is hitting the comic industry extra hard.
Lately I have been working on my 'Mirror, Mirror' project with some satisfying results. I think the thing I'm most excited about is the scope. It's big enough for a novel but I can't see it being any more than that. So its a big idea, just not epic and I have a really hard time most times limiting myself to one novel sized story in a story arc. I think this is a good thing for me and I'm putting alot of other projects on hold as I pour effort into this one. Anywho, the prologue is in it's first draft, so I'm posting it here. More to follow, I promise. Enjoy!
John, the Writer.
"I looked down to the earth and saw the black horde, a multitude of thousands rising like smoke from the east. Death and ash were in its wake and the righteous crumbled before them. I despaired. I then raised my eyes to the heavens and saw an angel descending. His appearance was radiant and his sword burned with holy fire. He was alone, but he was mighty."
Prologue - Fate
Three large figures wrapped in white stood silently in the middle of the swamp, the darkness around them broken only by the small pinpoint light given off by fireflies and will-o-wisps that floated above stinking pools. The air buzzed with insects and hung heavy with water and rotted wood. Their boots were black with mud up to the knee and the hammers the two larger figures carried were crusted with dried blood and gore. The swamps were not kind to those from the cities and the snakes and beasts that made the tepid waters their home were vicious and feral, hungry for meat. The three had started as four, but the result was worth the cost. Before them stood the house they searched for.
It was no more than a hovel, a muddy hole in a mound of moss and debris piled by unskilled hands. The door was the only part of the house that looked solid, beautiful red painted wood banded in brass and inscribed with faint Crystal lettering. It was fitted with a brass knocker in the shape of a ghoulish head; teeth barred and frill of horns worked in cold iron. There was nothing else besides the door to show that the mound was any different from the hundreds of others that dotted the swamp. There was no lane or lamp to light the way and the door was facing heavy brush so that one had to be looking for it to see it. One of the hooded figures reached out to grab hold of the knocker while his two companions wiped black gore from their hammers. The sound from the knock was muffled in the heavy air.
There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, spilling a knife's edge of light out into the darkness. A bulbous nose pushed itself out through the crack and two eyes as black as beetles peered out with suspicion at the visitors on the other side of the door.
"Hello?" It asked gruffly, "if you're lost then that's too bad for you. You can't come in, I won't allow it. If you're dying I'll put some food out on the step, the salamanders won't come near here. You can stay the night on the step, but you can't come in. Are you dying? You can't come in."
The man outside cleared his throat, a sound like a locomotive driving on gravel, low and gritty.
"We know a threader lives here." He said in the same rocks-in-tumbler voice.
The nose behind the door bobbed, "Where you from? The provinces? From outside our time stream? There ain't no threaders anymore, there isn't. The Queen, may she sleep in peace forever, killed them. Some might say murdered, but not me. I say they got their justice. No one should be able to twiddle with the threads of fate, it's too powerful."
"Are you Abe Capus?"
Again a moment of silence, the nose bobbing quickly in thought, trying as quickly as possible to determine the correct answer to this man standing in his doorway. Two shapes loomed behind, indistinct shadows, tall and menacing. They still held their hammers by their sides, the heavy metal gleaming in the light from the door. Their presence made up the small man's mind.
"Nope, never even heard of such a man. You lads look like you can take care of yourselves. I'll leave you to the swamp. It's a fine place to be if you don't mind the smell and the snakes. Good day to you. Or night; I don't have a clock. Good riddance at any rate."
The man outside caught the door as it was being closed, but could not pull it further open. There was some magic in the red painted door. The nose had retreated and now it bobbed back, the beetle eyes slitted and angry. "What?"
"You are Abe Capus. I know this to be true. Would it be that I could force you to help us instead of merely requesting your assistance. I know you will not be forced into anything. I also know you to have lost much in this life and given a chance to change your own fate may, in gratitude, give us aid." The words came out slow and steady, unwavering in their absence of emotion, sublte as a landslide. Still holding the door open, he withdrew a small shrouded object from the depths of his cloaks. The shroud fell away and the thing in his palm gleamed in the light cast from the door.
It was round, nearly perfectly round and filled the whole of the man's large hand. The surface might have been any color or no color, shifting the way it did in any bit of light, taking parts of the light in so that shadows resulted or else amplifying other bits so that brilliant rainbows danced. Looped around it many times was a fine golden chain, the delicate links wrought in the likeness of a a beast's mouth, the jaws holding fast to the neck of the link in front of it. Delicate locks hung on the chain at random, seven in all, and it looked like one had already been opened. That part of the object was not as glimmering as the rest and looked to be dead as if it's light had been used. The nose behind the door bobbed.
"Do you... you... ah, ehem." A mouth still hidden by the door cleared itself, "that is to say, what have you there?"
"You know what it is."
"Perhaps I do... perhaps..."
"It is yours to do with what you would, should you preform one task for us. One lock we require opened, it's thread changing a bit of fate. One lock was used long ago. That leaves five for you to do whatever you wish."
"And you think I can open the locks? Could be I don't know what you're talking about! Coming in the middle of the dark, disturbing an honest man's sleep. I say I shut my door to you all!"
"Five fates to change anyway you wish. Think, Abe Capus, think of what you could do with five fates. Your honor restored, your order restored, is that not worth a small task?"
Now the nose quivered like a fiddle string drawn taunt. The eyes narrowed.
"Come in." The owner of the nose said quietly, the eyes darted out into the darkness beyond the shape. "Only you, your friends must stay outside. It looks as if they can take care of themselves. Come in, and quickly. Before I lose my nerve. Come in before the energy attracts other... things. Fate magic, very strong. I should know... huh oh do I know."
The door opened quickly to the exact space needed for the man outside to edge past the threshhold. He had to duck past the door and even once inside stooping was necessary to fit inside the house. If what the stranger was expecting inside the door was more mud and sticks, he was pleasantly surprised. The room inside was spacious and clean, with wood paneled walls and shelves filled with books and small pots. Small round doors designed in likeness to teh one outside dotted the walls between the shelves. Lavish rugs covered the floor past the doorway and the stranger found that the mud on his boots had been left outside when he walked in. There was magic at work here, strong magic. The stranger closed the door and studied it briefly, there was a brass tag stamped on the back that stated 'Holland Holland and Sty: MasterWork Doors'.
"A portal." The stranger said quietly.
"Hmm, oh? Oh yes yes, a portal. Professional. Bought it in the the city, the biggest city at the time. DevenPort I think." Abe stopped pacing about and smiled, "in excile it is amazing what neccesities you can live without when you have some simple pleasures. A magic house in the middle of a swamp. Heh, I guess that is a bit of a necessity, isn't it? I did favors for the Sty family way back when. That door was made special by Griff's own claws. Delicate, delicate things these portals. Masterful work."
Abe Capus was an imp of a man, small and stooped with a brush of grey whiskers collected underneath a massive nose. His beetle black eyes peeked out from underneath eyebrows of similar size and color to his moustache. His fingers never stopped moving, weaving into and outside of themselves like spider's legs; long and delicate. He had the appearance of someone who was very, very old but kept on existing through power of will.
"Prudant. You would not have lasted the swamp a month otherwise." The stranger kept his hood drawn and his face shadowed. "I need you to preform a transfer, to change a fate."
Abe Capus squinted his eyes and then his shoulders sagged, "I suppose it is now wasted breath to deny that I can. After I've invited you into my home, no, it would be wasted breath. Set the egg there, in the table. A fate egg. How did you find it? I had thought them all destroyed. Well all the ones available to us, to me."
"Does it matter?" the stranger set the egg on the table that Abe motioned to.
Abe paused, shook his head, "no. But... there were twelve, I think. most were used in the great war. We were a great order then you know, very powerful. Kings, magicians, everyone came to us when things got to their worst. We were the last resort. If no one else could do it, they said, give it to a threader. We did alot of great things during the war. Great and terrible things. After the Queen ... well, threaders were not welcome. You would know that of course, common history I would suppose. But text books take away the emotion of a time, the raw expierence. It was a very terrible time, when the strongest magic's in the world clashed. The threader's sided with the wyrm, we had to. It was his eggs afterall. Didn't matter much, really, Queen or Serpent, they both looked the same in the end. The bodies. They had to pile the bodies when it was done. You've never smelled anything like it, felt anything as horrible. She killed the threaders then, throats cut with our own knives. I was left for dead but escaped 'cause I wasn't quite gone, crawled out of a mound of flesh before they set fire to the pyres. She destroyed the eggs too, too powerful she said, but I think it's just because she couldn't figure how to use them right. I had thought all the eggs destroyed. You can't make new ones you know, they're unborn dragon eggs. So much untapped potential, caught by the egg itself, guarded by the locks." Abe spread his hands out on either side of the egg, fingers unfolding and making a net around the swirling colors of the egg. "No more dragons, no more eggs. No more fate magic, no more threaders."
"Will it take long?"
"Hmm?" Abe lifted his eyes from staring at the egg. The colors still shone in his eyes. His was a life that had lived fullest in the past and seeing the egg brought all the memories back. The stranger was far less patient.
"Will it take long?"
"No... not long. Funny, I always thought it was funny. It's not so hard to change the course of a fate, takes very little time. It takes a steady hand, of course, and a sharp knife, but not time." He sighed, "what fate do you need me to change?"
"The fate tied to this scroll. A prophesy. This is the original text, the thread will be there." From inside the sleeve of his robes the stranger pulled a tightly rolled piece of parchment.
"Give it here and we'll begin then, sooner I'm done, the sooner you can leave back into the fell dark that brought you."
"I'll keep it until it's needed."
"Fine then, have it your way. I'll not ask questions, even though I probably should. I don't need it until the end anyway. You may want to stand back, don;t want to mix your thread up with the others." Abe took a bowl of water from a stand and threw it into his stove, killing the light to a dim glow. Walking to the egg he seemed to grow in stature. Somewhere through the decades he was remembering what he once had been, remembered that Kings had bowed to his power. The wisemen who had come for advice and the queens that had paid dearly for his service. He took a case from a small drawer in the stand and set it on the table, opening it to reveal a knife wrought in pure silver, hilt and blade one long piece with no other ornamate. Then Abe Capus turned to the fate egg. It was with steady hands that he spread his fingers around the egg and summoned it's power to his will.
The swirling colors quickened and flowed steady over the surface of the egg. In the absence of the firelight the colors made the room swim in rainbows. After the miles and miles of darkness and swamp the stranger leaned closer to it, appreciating the light. Abe turned his hands around the egg slowly, tilting them and puling his fingers back and forth as if he were playing the strings of a harp. His black eyes were slitted and the stranger thought he heard some muttering, but it was incoherent to his ears. It did not take long for Abe to call the threads present in the room to be visible.
They came in patches, shimmering lines drawn through the air. In the presence of the threads everything else in the room became less physical, as if the the threads were the only thing real, the only thing of any consequence. Each thread was remarkably different; some were faint and undecided and some were bright, the fate concrete in its destiny. The colors varied in no order, reds and golds and deep blues mixing and twining with green and orange and white. The strong ones held in their threads pictures and memories of what was to happen. Glimpses of people and places flashed along their surfaces impossibly fast to follow.
"They are echos, glimmers of what might happen," Abe said, sensing the stranger's interest, "see how they move? Through solid objects, through you and me. Nothing physical hampers them, they care only for deeds and thoughts, plans and convictions. Nothing is quite so complex as a fate. A thousand different strands weaving and fraying to make a thread. Always changing. All it takes is one thing, one event to change a fate. With a fate egg though, you can change the course of history!"
Abe kept his fingers twitching and the stranger saw that a few of the threads were now keeping time to the movement. One looped lazily and the loop inched closer to one of the locks in the egg. One end of the loop poked it's way in and twisted around, the lock opened with a pop and a new thread emerged from the egg. This one looked as if it were on fire and the end twitched like a live snake. The stranger could almost see it snap a tiny mouth as it looked for a place to belong.
"A blank thread," Abe breathed, "it can be anything, it is raw potential with no fate of it's own. That is the power fo the fate egg. Quickly! it will latch onto a different thread soon if we do not hurry, it doesn't care where it belongs, it only needs to belong. Joining it so the desired outcome is the result is the real magic. The scroll, quickly!"
Abe's eyes were lit with the fire of the burning thread, his grinning mouth betraying intense joy at the work he was completing. he held out his hand without looking, not taking his eyes off the living thread emerging from the egg, gesturing wildly for the scroll. The stranger placed it in his hands with a grim smile on his shadowed face. Without looking at it Abe Capus unfurled the parchment and plucked at the thread attached to it, feeling it and measuring it's wieght between two fingers. It was solid, thicker than any thread in the room and as pitch black as sin. The fate egg thread turned towards it with obvious hunger, slowly snaking its way closer. It only took a moment for understanding to wash over Abe Capus, he saw the thread lead to the prophesy, he saw what events it was prescribing to transpire and his face drained of color.
"This... no! This prophesy must not be tampered with!" Abe screached, his voice going high from terror, "it is written on the stones! It was foreseen five hundred years ago!"
"It must be." The starnger kept his distance, out from teh web of threads in teh middle of the room but he paced the edge of it, face still hidden by his cowl, "Even this is a small price for what I offer you. I offer you your former life back?"
"It is written on the stones! Before the queen and the serpent, it was set down in the beginning!" Sweat poured from the brow of Abe Capus. In one hand he held the scroll and the other he kept near the egg, keeping the magic running. "I can't, some things can't be changed, some thing shouldn't be changed!"
"The prophesy can not be put off any longer, the prophesy must come true now!" The stranger growled, pacing faster around the edge of the threads.
"Do you know what you are asking? The events that this will change will devastate the world! Our world will be plunged into war, the Queen herlsef will awake and finish her work! All of us will perish, there is not one alive who will survive her wrath!"
"Do it! You have the skill to change this prophesy, Abe Capus! Change this one fate and you will have a fate egg to help you survive, there is nothing more powerful than fate magic, and there is no threader alive more powerful than you!"
"I..."
"If you do this thing, change this one thing, you will be legend."
"But... the stones..."
"Kings will once again come to you for your counsel, your power and your order will be restored! This one thing, quickly! Before it is wasted!"
The firey thread from the egg was writhing frantically now, squirming towards the other threads. The other threads shied away from the egg thread as if it was a preditor, a vile monster in their serene midst. Abe Capus's hands shook, disturbing the rythmn of the magic and the threads started to fade from mortal sight, drifting into the chaotic colors of the fate egg's light. Swaet glistened on Abe's head, his conscience tearing him assunder.
"It's old prophesy... the Queen!"
"You have done worse than this, in the old days men died at your hands, their threads cut by your doing. This is not murder, it is progress. We have not the time to wait another two hundred years for it to be fulfilled! Doing this will make you a hero!"
"I..."
"Do it!" The stranger roared, his voice filling the room. Abe shuddered and then regained control, his fingers were deft as he snatched the silver knife from the table. The cuts were quick and the red fire of the fate egg's thread blended seamlessly with the ethreal fabric of the scroll's thread. the thread's color dulled to the black thickness of the scroll and when it was done Abe Capus hung his head to his chest, tears streaming down his face.
"It's done, the prophesy has been changed. It's unnatural, even for me." He shook his head, "you've condemned us to the lowest pits of torment, it was a prophesy written on the stones! Those can not be so easily changed, you'll see! It takes more than a fate egg, it takes more than a threader!"
"It will be enough."
"It won't! I did it but I shouldn't have, a fate egg. Even for a fate egg, a soul is worth more than that. A lifetime passes too quickly... the eternal is more," He shook his head, "I am condemned, the stones... the stones... They know! Leave now, go... you've brought nothing but pain to me."
Abe didn't even look up as the hammer came down, striking his small frame to the ground. The stranger gathered up the egg and scroll, all the magic in the room dying with the small threader and fading back into the dimness of the embers in the stove he walked out through the door, now hanging open on it's hinges.
"Burn it all." He told the two massive figures waiting paitently outside. Carefully he returned the egg and the scroll to his cloaks, walking back the way he had come. Behind him flames licked upwards, a funeral pyre. The stranger didn't look back.
Spring!
Hi all it's finally spring here in Saskatchewan again. I don't know why I'm surprised, it happens every year about this time. All I know is it's nice to be able to go outside without the definate threat of frostbite. Anywho, this is a small post, as life is gernerally good. No new exciting things with the comic projects as the recession is hitting the comic industry extra hard.
Lately I have been working on my 'Mirror, Mirror' project with some satisfying results. I think the thing I'm most excited about is the scope. It's big enough for a novel but I can't see it being any more than that. So its a big idea, just not epic and I have a really hard time most times limiting myself to one novel sized story in a story arc. I think this is a good thing for me and I'm putting alot of other projects on hold as I pour effort into this one. Anywho, the prologue is in it's first draft, so I'm posting it here. More to follow, I promise. Enjoy!
John, the Writer.
"I looked down to the earth and saw the black horde, a multitude of thousands rising like smoke from the east. Death and ash were in its wake and the righteous crumbled before them. I despaired. I then raised my eyes to the heavens and saw an angel descending. His appearance was radiant and his sword burned with holy fire. He was alone, but he was mighty."
Prologue - Fate
Three large figures wrapped in white stood silently in the middle of the swamp, the darkness around them broken only by the small pinpoint light given off by fireflies and will-o-wisps that floated above stinking pools. The air buzzed with insects and hung heavy with water and rotted wood. Their boots were black with mud up to the knee and the hammers the two larger figures carried were crusted with dried blood and gore. The swamps were not kind to those from the cities and the snakes and beasts that made the tepid waters their home were vicious and feral, hungry for meat. The three had started as four, but the result was worth the cost. Before them stood the house they searched for.
It was no more than a hovel, a muddy hole in a mound of moss and debris piled by unskilled hands. The door was the only part of the house that looked solid, beautiful red painted wood banded in brass and inscribed with faint Crystal lettering. It was fitted with a brass knocker in the shape of a ghoulish head; teeth barred and frill of horns worked in cold iron. There was nothing else besides the door to show that the mound was any different from the hundreds of others that dotted the swamp. There was no lane or lamp to light the way and the door was facing heavy brush so that one had to be looking for it to see it. One of the hooded figures reached out to grab hold of the knocker while his two companions wiped black gore from their hammers. The sound from the knock was muffled in the heavy air.
There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, spilling a knife's edge of light out into the darkness. A bulbous nose pushed itself out through the crack and two eyes as black as beetles peered out with suspicion at the visitors on the other side of the door.
"Hello?" It asked gruffly, "if you're lost then that's too bad for you. You can't come in, I won't allow it. If you're dying I'll put some food out on the step, the salamanders won't come near here. You can stay the night on the step, but you can't come in. Are you dying? You can't come in."
The man outside cleared his throat, a sound like a locomotive driving on gravel, low and gritty.
"We know a threader lives here." He said in the same rocks-in-tumbler voice.
The nose behind the door bobbed, "Where you from? The provinces? From outside our time stream? There ain't no threaders anymore, there isn't. The Queen, may she sleep in peace forever, killed them. Some might say murdered, but not me. I say they got their justice. No one should be able to twiddle with the threads of fate, it's too powerful."
"Are you Abe Capus?"
Again a moment of silence, the nose bobbing quickly in thought, trying as quickly as possible to determine the correct answer to this man standing in his doorway. Two shapes loomed behind, indistinct shadows, tall and menacing. They still held their hammers by their sides, the heavy metal gleaming in the light from the door. Their presence made up the small man's mind.
"Nope, never even heard of such a man. You lads look like you can take care of yourselves. I'll leave you to the swamp. It's a fine place to be if you don't mind the smell and the snakes. Good day to you. Or night; I don't have a clock. Good riddance at any rate."
The man outside caught the door as it was being closed, but could not pull it further open. There was some magic in the red painted door. The nose had retreated and now it bobbed back, the beetle eyes slitted and angry. "What?"
"You are Abe Capus. I know this to be true. Would it be that I could force you to help us instead of merely requesting your assistance. I know you will not be forced into anything. I also know you to have lost much in this life and given a chance to change your own fate may, in gratitude, give us aid." The words came out slow and steady, unwavering in their absence of emotion, sublte as a landslide. Still holding the door open, he withdrew a small shrouded object from the depths of his cloaks. The shroud fell away and the thing in his palm gleamed in the light cast from the door.
It was round, nearly perfectly round and filled the whole of the man's large hand. The surface might have been any color or no color, shifting the way it did in any bit of light, taking parts of the light in so that shadows resulted or else amplifying other bits so that brilliant rainbows danced. Looped around it many times was a fine golden chain, the delicate links wrought in the likeness of a a beast's mouth, the jaws holding fast to the neck of the link in front of it. Delicate locks hung on the chain at random, seven in all, and it looked like one had already been opened. That part of the object was not as glimmering as the rest and looked to be dead as if it's light had been used. The nose behind the door bobbed.
"Do you... you... ah, ehem." A mouth still hidden by the door cleared itself, "that is to say, what have you there?"
"You know what it is."
"Perhaps I do... perhaps..."
"It is yours to do with what you would, should you preform one task for us. One lock we require opened, it's thread changing a bit of fate. One lock was used long ago. That leaves five for you to do whatever you wish."
"And you think I can open the locks? Could be I don't know what you're talking about! Coming in the middle of the dark, disturbing an honest man's sleep. I say I shut my door to you all!"
"Five fates to change anyway you wish. Think, Abe Capus, think of what you could do with five fates. Your honor restored, your order restored, is that not worth a small task?"
Now the nose quivered like a fiddle string drawn taunt. The eyes narrowed.
"Come in." The owner of the nose said quietly, the eyes darted out into the darkness beyond the shape. "Only you, your friends must stay outside. It looks as if they can take care of themselves. Come in, and quickly. Before I lose my nerve. Come in before the energy attracts other... things. Fate magic, very strong. I should know... huh oh do I know."
The door opened quickly to the exact space needed for the man outside to edge past the threshhold. He had to duck past the door and even once inside stooping was necessary to fit inside the house. If what the stranger was expecting inside the door was more mud and sticks, he was pleasantly surprised. The room inside was spacious and clean, with wood paneled walls and shelves filled with books and small pots. Small round doors designed in likeness to teh one outside dotted the walls between the shelves. Lavish rugs covered the floor past the doorway and the stranger found that the mud on his boots had been left outside when he walked in. There was magic at work here, strong magic. The stranger closed the door and studied it briefly, there was a brass tag stamped on the back that stated 'Holland Holland and Sty: MasterWork Doors'.
"A portal." The stranger said quietly.
"Hmm, oh? Oh yes yes, a portal. Professional. Bought it in the the city, the biggest city at the time. DevenPort I think." Abe stopped pacing about and smiled, "in excile it is amazing what neccesities you can live without when you have some simple pleasures. A magic house in the middle of a swamp. Heh, I guess that is a bit of a necessity, isn't it? I did favors for the Sty family way back when. That door was made special by Griff's own claws. Delicate, delicate things these portals. Masterful work."
Abe Capus was an imp of a man, small and stooped with a brush of grey whiskers collected underneath a massive nose. His beetle black eyes peeked out from underneath eyebrows of similar size and color to his moustache. His fingers never stopped moving, weaving into and outside of themselves like spider's legs; long and delicate. He had the appearance of someone who was very, very old but kept on existing through power of will.
"Prudant. You would not have lasted the swamp a month otherwise." The stranger kept his hood drawn and his face shadowed. "I need you to preform a transfer, to change a fate."
Abe Capus squinted his eyes and then his shoulders sagged, "I suppose it is now wasted breath to deny that I can. After I've invited you into my home, no, it would be wasted breath. Set the egg there, in the table. A fate egg. How did you find it? I had thought them all destroyed. Well all the ones available to us, to me."
"Does it matter?" the stranger set the egg on the table that Abe motioned to.
Abe paused, shook his head, "no. But... there were twelve, I think. most were used in the great war. We were a great order then you know, very powerful. Kings, magicians, everyone came to us when things got to their worst. We were the last resort. If no one else could do it, they said, give it to a threader. We did alot of great things during the war. Great and terrible things. After the Queen ... well, threaders were not welcome. You would know that of course, common history I would suppose. But text books take away the emotion of a time, the raw expierence. It was a very terrible time, when the strongest magic's in the world clashed. The threader's sided with the wyrm, we had to. It was his eggs afterall. Didn't matter much, really, Queen or Serpent, they both looked the same in the end. The bodies. They had to pile the bodies when it was done. You've never smelled anything like it, felt anything as horrible. She killed the threaders then, throats cut with our own knives. I was left for dead but escaped 'cause I wasn't quite gone, crawled out of a mound of flesh before they set fire to the pyres. She destroyed the eggs too, too powerful she said, but I think it's just because she couldn't figure how to use them right. I had thought all the eggs destroyed. You can't make new ones you know, they're unborn dragon eggs. So much untapped potential, caught by the egg itself, guarded by the locks." Abe spread his hands out on either side of the egg, fingers unfolding and making a net around the swirling colors of the egg. "No more dragons, no more eggs. No more fate magic, no more threaders."
"Will it take long?"
"Hmm?" Abe lifted his eyes from staring at the egg. The colors still shone in his eyes. His was a life that had lived fullest in the past and seeing the egg brought all the memories back. The stranger was far less patient.
"Will it take long?"
"No... not long. Funny, I always thought it was funny. It's not so hard to change the course of a fate, takes very little time. It takes a steady hand, of course, and a sharp knife, but not time." He sighed, "what fate do you need me to change?"
"The fate tied to this scroll. A prophesy. This is the original text, the thread will be there." From inside the sleeve of his robes the stranger pulled a tightly rolled piece of parchment.
"Give it here and we'll begin then, sooner I'm done, the sooner you can leave back into the fell dark that brought you."
"I'll keep it until it's needed."
"Fine then, have it your way. I'll not ask questions, even though I probably should. I don't need it until the end anyway. You may want to stand back, don;t want to mix your thread up with the others." Abe took a bowl of water from a stand and threw it into his stove, killing the light to a dim glow. Walking to the egg he seemed to grow in stature. Somewhere through the decades he was remembering what he once had been, remembered that Kings had bowed to his power. The wisemen who had come for advice and the queens that had paid dearly for his service. He took a case from a small drawer in the stand and set it on the table, opening it to reveal a knife wrought in pure silver, hilt and blade one long piece with no other ornamate. Then Abe Capus turned to the fate egg. It was with steady hands that he spread his fingers around the egg and summoned it's power to his will.
The swirling colors quickened and flowed steady over the surface of the egg. In the absence of the firelight the colors made the room swim in rainbows. After the miles and miles of darkness and swamp the stranger leaned closer to it, appreciating the light. Abe turned his hands around the egg slowly, tilting them and puling his fingers back and forth as if he were playing the strings of a harp. His black eyes were slitted and the stranger thought he heard some muttering, but it was incoherent to his ears. It did not take long for Abe to call the threads present in the room to be visible.
They came in patches, shimmering lines drawn through the air. In the presence of the threads everything else in the room became less physical, as if the the threads were the only thing real, the only thing of any consequence. Each thread was remarkably different; some were faint and undecided and some were bright, the fate concrete in its destiny. The colors varied in no order, reds and golds and deep blues mixing and twining with green and orange and white. The strong ones held in their threads pictures and memories of what was to happen. Glimpses of people and places flashed along their surfaces impossibly fast to follow.
"They are echos, glimmers of what might happen," Abe said, sensing the stranger's interest, "see how they move? Through solid objects, through you and me. Nothing physical hampers them, they care only for deeds and thoughts, plans and convictions. Nothing is quite so complex as a fate. A thousand different strands weaving and fraying to make a thread. Always changing. All it takes is one thing, one event to change a fate. With a fate egg though, you can change the course of history!"
Abe kept his fingers twitching and the stranger saw that a few of the threads were now keeping time to the movement. One looped lazily and the loop inched closer to one of the locks in the egg. One end of the loop poked it's way in and twisted around, the lock opened with a pop and a new thread emerged from the egg. This one looked as if it were on fire and the end twitched like a live snake. The stranger could almost see it snap a tiny mouth as it looked for a place to belong.
"A blank thread," Abe breathed, "it can be anything, it is raw potential with no fate of it's own. That is the power fo the fate egg. Quickly! it will latch onto a different thread soon if we do not hurry, it doesn't care where it belongs, it only needs to belong. Joining it so the desired outcome is the result is the real magic. The scroll, quickly!"
Abe's eyes were lit with the fire of the burning thread, his grinning mouth betraying intense joy at the work he was completing. he held out his hand without looking, not taking his eyes off the living thread emerging from the egg, gesturing wildly for the scroll. The stranger placed it in his hands with a grim smile on his shadowed face. Without looking at it Abe Capus unfurled the parchment and plucked at the thread attached to it, feeling it and measuring it's wieght between two fingers. It was solid, thicker than any thread in the room and as pitch black as sin. The fate egg thread turned towards it with obvious hunger, slowly snaking its way closer. It only took a moment for understanding to wash over Abe Capus, he saw the thread lead to the prophesy, he saw what events it was prescribing to transpire and his face drained of color.
"This... no! This prophesy must not be tampered with!" Abe screached, his voice going high from terror, "it is written on the stones! It was foreseen five hundred years ago!"
"It must be." The starnger kept his distance, out from teh web of threads in teh middle of the room but he paced the edge of it, face still hidden by his cowl, "Even this is a small price for what I offer you. I offer you your former life back?"
"It is written on the stones! Before the queen and the serpent, it was set down in the beginning!" Sweat poured from the brow of Abe Capus. In one hand he held the scroll and the other he kept near the egg, keeping the magic running. "I can't, some things can't be changed, some thing shouldn't be changed!"
"The prophesy can not be put off any longer, the prophesy must come true now!" The stranger growled, pacing faster around the edge of the threads.
"Do you know what you are asking? The events that this will change will devastate the world! Our world will be plunged into war, the Queen herlsef will awake and finish her work! All of us will perish, there is not one alive who will survive her wrath!"
"Do it! You have the skill to change this prophesy, Abe Capus! Change this one fate and you will have a fate egg to help you survive, there is nothing more powerful than fate magic, and there is no threader alive more powerful than you!"
"I..."
"If you do this thing, change this one thing, you will be legend."
"But... the stones..."
"Kings will once again come to you for your counsel, your power and your order will be restored! This one thing, quickly! Before it is wasted!"
The firey thread from the egg was writhing frantically now, squirming towards the other threads. The other threads shied away from the egg thread as if it was a preditor, a vile monster in their serene midst. Abe Capus's hands shook, disturbing the rythmn of the magic and the threads started to fade from mortal sight, drifting into the chaotic colors of the fate egg's light. Swaet glistened on Abe's head, his conscience tearing him assunder.
"It's old prophesy... the Queen!"
"You have done worse than this, in the old days men died at your hands, their threads cut by your doing. This is not murder, it is progress. We have not the time to wait another two hundred years for it to be fulfilled! Doing this will make you a hero!"
"I..."
"Do it!" The stranger roared, his voice filling the room. Abe shuddered and then regained control, his fingers were deft as he snatched the silver knife from the table. The cuts were quick and the red fire of the fate egg's thread blended seamlessly with the ethreal fabric of the scroll's thread. the thread's color dulled to the black thickness of the scroll and when it was done Abe Capus hung his head to his chest, tears streaming down his face.
"It's done, the prophesy has been changed. It's unnatural, even for me." He shook his head, "you've condemned us to the lowest pits of torment, it was a prophesy written on the stones! Those can not be so easily changed, you'll see! It takes more than a fate egg, it takes more than a threader!"
"It will be enough."
"It won't! I did it but I shouldn't have, a fate egg. Even for a fate egg, a soul is worth more than that. A lifetime passes too quickly... the eternal is more," He shook his head, "I am condemned, the stones... the stones... They know! Leave now, go... you've brought nothing but pain to me."
Abe didn't even look up as the hammer came down, striking his small frame to the ground. The stranger gathered up the egg and scroll, all the magic in the room dying with the small threader and fading back into the dimness of the embers in the stove he walked out through the door, now hanging open on it's hinges.
"Burn it all." He told the two massive figures waiting paitently outside. Carefully he returned the egg and the scroll to his cloaks, walking back the way he had come. Behind him flames licked upwards, a funeral pyre. The stranger didn't look back.
Labels: mirror mirror, writing
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Happy New Year! And it's been an interesting year, to be sure.
2008 saw alot of changes. I got married, we then fiance and I purchased our first home which I call a house but most call a condo and the prospect of being published finally loomed! i am sad to say that the published product does not loom so much anymore, as Parables has suffered a breach of contract with our publisher, but it WILL be published. APrable 2 is also in teh pipe and Caroline is doing a bang up smashing job on teh art. I just recieved the first colors today and trust me, this book will be an EVENT.
Looking into the yawning future of tomorrow land seems appropriate for this post, as it is the 6th of January and there is still a lot of the coming year to enjoy. Projects that are coming up are the aforementioned Parables (both of them) and another Nano, though that seems a long way away. I have committed myself to finishing last year's Nano project, and have even drawn a diagram with which to assist this goal. On top of that there are a few other projects: Mirror, Mirror(working title), Practical Magic(working title, I know its been taken before) and a super hero story inspired by a very well done comic 'Noble Causes'.
Things I'm looking forward to this year: snowboarding, purchasing a replacement bike for the one that was stolen last year, purchasing some sort of poisoned/electrified horror lock to protect the past from repeating itself, finishing a large writing project so Tina will have less cause to roll her eyes at my dreams of becoming a real writer :), seeing 'The Watchmen' in theaters, reading 'Hitch-hikers guide to the Galaxy', finishing George RR Martin's existing 'Song of Fire and Ice' books (there will be 3 more, come on Martin!), playing Starcraft 2 (possibly buying a new computer to enjoy it on) and growing as a person.
Man look at that, looks like a myspace blog, all personal and stuff. Here's what matters to you guys!
I do plan on updating more writing here. And given that I have started using google docs as the paper medium for my writing I really think it may work out. For starters I'll include an excerpt from Crosswind Gambit, my Nano project. This scene may not exist in the same way in teh final product, it probably won't, but its a good look at what to expect.
Whats happened is that Caster and Palin (two fo teh main characters) have just escaped from an old Temple that was a prison for three immortals. They infected Palin with a virus, hoping to make Palin their servant, to command him to free them. Instead Palin manges to kill all three and escape with Caster. They are travelling to Tollin city to try and find Palin's family. Caster is an errant, a superhero type and Palin is now infected with a virus that reacts to specialized armor, giving him certain extra normal abilities.
Happy New year You guys and Enjoy,
John, The Writer
.:Homecoming for a godslayer:.
Tollin was chaos.
Whatever had happened here had happened a few days ago and now the city flew the sickle of the Harvesters as well as half a dozen others that Palin didn't understand or remember. The temple had been further than Caster had remembered, at least forty kilometers instead of twenty. It took the better part of two days to hike to the city. Palin found that he didn't get tired and needed far less sleep than normal, making Caster the one that had to frantically keep up. She did so without complaint, using her power to boost her when neccessary to catch up with Palin's relestless run.
They had found the doors in the prison still opperational, though three had been smashed, supposedly by Ibis. the one that led to the temple closest to Tollin was opperational and recognized Caster's blood almost immediantely. Palin had wanted to leave immediantly, but Caster had insisted on taking an hour and burying the three bodies they left behind. Palin had begun to argue when Caster had laughed and said unless he planned to cut the blood out of her himself, he would have to wait. The thought of that scared him and he had relented, helping carry and compose the bodies.
"I do not know what gods pray to, but I will say a few words in my own way." Caster said when Ibis, Anunis and the lady were laid to rest beneath a pile of stone. She had then sung a low and lilting song, mournful and joyful in turns. Caster had a passable alto and Palin found himself being reminded of the summer rains, soothing and cool.
"There, no ghosts will haunt this place." Caster gazed around, "at least no more than haunted it before."
From the temple they had made for a road, one of the main ones that traversed from Tollin to the inner states but found that it was being held by memebers of the Harvesters. Fearing the worst they had travelled as fast as they could across country towatds Tollin, avioding the road and any other civilization as much as possible. They crossed one village, much like Caster's, that was being ransacked and in a calm rage Caster tore down a tree, forcing it though the cab of a military truck. She stopped the pillaging of one house and told the family inside to run. They did, but the looks on their faces told Palin that they were as much afraid of her as they were of the harvester men.
"They don't understand." Palin said, "you did the right thing saving them, even if they don't appreciate it."
Caster nodded but didn't look like she agreed. They took what they could from the harvester's stock, Palin arming himself with a pistol and rifle to replace his that were still half way around the world and down a hole. Both took what they could to replace their clothes, that had become tatters in the time spent in the temples and fighting Ibis. Caster found woman's clothes in one of the huts and clothed herself in blue skirts and a layers of shirts under a light jacket. They were colorful and Palin spoke against them, said that the blacks and army greens would blend better in the deep jungle. Caster said that there were other things to consider and that she was tired of wearing the clothes of unwashed, dead soldiers. Palin couldn't argue.
After the village there was only miles and miles of jungle. Palin still wore the armor in a bag on his back, still suspicious as to it's function. he voiced it once that even though the immortals that forged it were dead, he did not trust it.
"Then why kill for it?" Caster asked. Palin had no answer for that and ran on in silence.
As the distance between them and Tollin grew smaller, Palin grew more and more sullen. At times he would not speak for hours and then only to call some direction or request from Caster. On the second night Caster asked him what was on mind, that all he did was think and brrod lately.
"Tomorrow we'll get there and I'll see it." Palin said poking at their fire with a stick. "For better or worse, I'll see it."
"You don't know what you'll see."
"Maybe I don't." he said, "maybe in my heart I know exactly what I'll find and I don't know what I'm going to do about it."
"That is life's worst plague and greatest gift."
"What is?"
"The great mystery of life." Caster said with a sad smile, "it throws us into it without a care. Men speak of gods, men strive to become gods, but in the end there is only one real master of our lives and that is us. If we walk into the mystery with courage, we can not fail, no matter what we choose or how we fair."
"I wonder where you got so wise." Palin said.
Caster smiled saddly, "everything I am I owe to my father."
"I thought you might say that." Palin nodded, 'what would your father say when he rises the crest tomorrow and looks down at his city in flames?"
"You don't know that for certain." Caster said, "I need sleep. Till morning."
"Till the morning."
Now standing on the ridge that surrounded Tollin city like a fortified wall at the edge of the jungle, Palin watched his city burning. The skyline was there, rising out of the jungle flat like a glass and metal mountain scape and black smoke ringed the tops of them. At the main roads into the city there were harvester vehicles pulled over and towering units of powered armor stood on guard. Over the city six corvettes hovered, once in a while lances of energy stabbed out into the city, reaching out to touch hidden people. Flights of fighters passed over head, their mark a severed head with an eye patch. bands of mercenaries and harvesters roved the outskirts of the city, patrolling in ragged kill squds.
"There it is, buring." Palin said. "but the vaults may be safe, they might be ok."
"What if they're not?"
"My family is safe, they must have made it out alive, they must have. We have to check the vaults."
"Past that?" Caster asked, pointing down into the city, "your family may well be alive, but the only way they are is if they were slaved out or got out of the city before the invasion. Those are their only chances, there isn't another."
"But we need to face that mystery with courage." Palin said grimmly, taking the armor off his shoulder, "and the answers lay in there. I have to go, you don't have to come with me."
"Your family means that much to you, trully?"
"If your father was still alive and you had a chance to save him, even teh smallest chance, wouldn't you take it?"
Caster was silent for a moment. "I saw him shot, I could not save him. Even if he was able to be saved, it was not in my power. I've made peace with that."
"But if you could have, you would have saved him."
"Of course."
"Then you know I have to at least try."
Caster nodded, "then I will come with you. I doubt you will be able to make it through there alone, even with that technology strapped to you." She gestured at teh pieces of armor that Palin was taking from his pack, "do you even know how it works?"
"I think you just put it on... if its based on the old technology they were talking about, then it might be activated through blood. Or energy." Palin said, "Anunis told me I wasn't infected with the Kael virus, but something similar to it. All the histories say that immortals are basically men, but that their organic matter has been converted into a living machine. Everything is still there its just... changed."
"Corrupted." Caster said flattly.
"Whatever it is, the immortals in the stories were able to power devices with their internal power sources. i think it has to do with a changed heart." Palin winced and rubbed at his chest. "Whatever the virus is doing, it's still working at it. THe pain isn't as bad as it was before, but its there, always there."
"I guess the only thing to do for it is to try."
Palin nodded, finishing to array the pieces on the ground in front of him. THere was a half chest plate that covered the shoulders, and came just to the top of his stomache. The piece had been polished and painted black. There was also a belt, greaves and guantlets, each painted the same gigh polish black, smooth and for teh most part unremarkable. The only devise on any of it was a small emblem on the back of the shoulder section, a black white and red circle cut in three parts by a curving line. Everything snapped into place, and Palin could swear that the shoulder pieces molded to him as he was setting them in place.
"Does it fit?" Caster asked, standing backa bit.
"Well enough but I think... oh." Palin felt the belt tighten by itself then a pricking at the base of his spine. "It's doing something to my back I... AHHHHHH..."
The belted plunged itself into Palin's back, and seemed to join with his spine. Alikewise the another spike pushed itself into the base of Palin's neck, driving right into bone and nerves. the guantlets and greaves were lesser pain but still sent spines into his flesh, bonding with the bone beneath. Palin fell to his knees, a scream escaping his lips. Caster rushed to his side, grabbing at the armror with the intention of ripping it off him but Palin stopped her, shaking his head.
"What is it doing to you?" Caster asked, concern on her face.
Palin gritted his teeth and grunted then managed to say, "its working."
Palin felt the armor now, felt the systems it held in it's casing and knew he had access to them. He wasn't certain exactly what all of tehm did, but they were there, ready for him to use at a moments notice. The pain he felt was his body again reconfiguring to let the armor inside, to interface at an unconcious level. He knew the armror wasn't like he was, wasn't living metal, but at teh same time it had a basic intelegence. It knew that Palin was it's power source, and knew how to find that power. It sensed the virus in Palin and reached out to grab it in painful embrace. With effort, Palin stood.
"You can't go in thre like that. Look at them, look at their guns!" Caster said, "you can barely move!"
"It'll get better." Palin said. It already was better, he could feel blood down his back where the armro had bit into his neck, but he could also feel the information it was giving him, pumping distances and ranges right into his mind. Hesitantly he drew teh pistol and raised it up, pointing at one of the tower's in the distance. In a second his vision narrowed and zoomed in on a man sitting on the front of a half track, smoking a cigerette. Palin knew in teh same instant that the pistol didn't have the range to kill the man, that he would have to move five hundred meters closer to be within killing range.
"It's already getting better." He smiled and holstered the gun, "Come on."
From the ridge to the edge of the jungle where Tollin city began was a hazardeous climb. They spotted three scout teams that, had the scouts been attentive, would have alerted those inside the barriers as to their presence. The jungle had been cleared away from teh precise city limits before to make way for progress, but in this time war teh open sapce had become a killing field. Bodies and burt ount husks of machines littered the cratered grass, sapling trees that had started the long process of regrouth were blasted off at the roots. A few salvage teams rooted among the bodies and teh remains of the machines, finding odd things of value to add to thier plunder. Each team was heavily armed and carried the severed head patch on their guns, flack jackets and bare arms. They looked little more than pirates or renegades.
"What now? We can't force our way in." Caster hissed.
"I know, I know..." Palin held his hand to his head in frustrated thought. "We need a disguise... we need... hmm."
"What is it now... oh..."
Palin was watching his arm flicker and fade, turning into something unseen. He was slowly becoming invisible. Palin could feel teh armor doing it for him, in his head the logistics on teh power supply become known to him and he understood that the field could only remain active for little over ten minutes. He would need to act fast.
"I'll create a diversion, you run for the edge." Palin said, parlty mystified that the suit was working for him. "See, aren't you glad I took this thing now?"
"Just be careful. I'll watch for your sign." Caster said.
"You won't be able to miss it." Palin grinned, but Caster didn't see it and neither did she notice when he'd slipped away. Palin skirted around the first two salvage crews working in the killing field and headed closer to a third that was working around a bend in the clearing, partially hidden by buildings. Palin grasped a gerande out of the pack he still wore on his back, one of the explossives that he had relieved form the harvesters in teh village they had come across. Quietly he crept up to teh back of teh truck where the men were working. Listening a moment.
"...Fell like a tree in the forest it did, once the front fell." One of the men said laughing.
"Yeah I know, I was there you idgit."
"Never seen so many flags though, never seen so many pirates and clanners in one spot."
"Never seen so much infighting either... clanners are at each other's throats, it's all teh bloody Duke can do to keep them all in line."
"Yeah but there's worlds for the taking, whole worlds!" The first man said. he was a lean and lank man with patchy hair and a dirt smeared face. His smile was lopsided, like he'd been hit too many times on the wrong side of his face. The other was a bigger man with a pot belly that burst over the top of his trousers. Both wore flak vests and web belts hung with ammunition and small arms. There was another bald man driving the truck, he was reading a magazine while the other two worked, cutting the frame of a shelled out tank apart with torches.
"Sure. Taking is fine, keeping's another thing." The big man stood up striaght, stretching his back from teh crouch he'd been settling himself into. He dree a sharp knife from his belt and picked his teeth wth it. "I'd rather the captain fell in with someone who can keep a world. Arc's only one of the super powers. What happens when teh Spire comes with their black ships, eh? They won't sit there in their temples and just let this be. Or teh Striaghts?"
"Pfft, Striaghts are nothing but pirates with airs." The skinny man said, "look, we're capatilists, this here is only a hostile take over. It's probably not quite as ruthless as what they do everyday, buying lives and wrecking dreams."
"Says the man who's sifting through the bodies of people he killed two days ago."
"Least these poor sorry sods had a fighting chance, they fought back. Way I figure Straigths fights so you can't do anything about it, they don't play fair. They'll be snatching up planets as it pleases then, 'cept they'll do it all fancy and those folks won't even know they been hit fater they done. But they'll be beat just the same."
"Still, if the captain was smart, he'd take what he can, fill our hold and run off again into the negative plane where it's safe." The big man nodded, "if he was smart. Staying around here there's bound to be something that goes wrong."
Palin waited until the truck had gone far enough that he had lost sight of where he'd left Caster before setting the gernade gentlely beside teh gas tanks for the torch. he slipped away as quietly as he could, his exit muffled by idle chatter until he made it thirty feet away from the truck, then the explossion masted his headlong run, fire blossoming behind him. there was only one scream; the others were lost completely in the fireball. In moments there was a ground support craft swooping down to teh site, scanning the ground for intruders. As Palin had hoped, the other salvage teams came running, guns at the ready. For a very brief moment of time there was a small window to get to the city as teh watcher's eyes were elsewhere. Palin hoped it would help that the harvesters and their pirates were trying to keep people in, not out.
Palin could only hope that Caster made it without drawing any attention to herself, he was out of sight of her and had to make his way to the city as quickly as he could; the armor's field would not mask him much longer. The city welcomed him wearily when he stepped into it's boundries, like an old friend that Palin had long left a long time ago. It had changed, of course, all things change in teh face of war, but there was still the things that made Tollin city, Tollin city. The edge was estate, their green lawns were mostly still green, though some had been driven over leaving deep tracks in the soft earth. Some houses were obviously ransacked, their doors wide open and banging in the mid morning breezes. The streets were deserted, something that never happened.
The Glass Towers still rose in the skyline, four monsterous towers that housed some of the larger corporate firms in Tollin city stood out like steel swords, now from their heights three massive flags were flown, two of teh Harvester sickle and one with a pirates flag. More sky scrapers huddled around those four, but did not match their heights and Palin could see that at least of the office complexes was blown out and smoking. Smoke was still everywhere, remrants of the battle that had taken the city. Palin remembered the bio sphere, the parks and the water art that dotted Tollin's landscape. Even though he couldn't see them, he knew that they would have been spared; excepting the possibility of a stray shot. There was nothing of value in the real things that Made Tollin city home for him. Still war had marred it all.
Shaking off the feeling of a son coming home, Palin set off circling the estates, back to where he thought Caster might have entered the city. Around him his body shimmered back into sight and there was a pang of pain through his heart. Rubbing at his chest, Palin wondered if the pain would ever get better or if it was a product of the armor's abilities. When the field was active he could feel the power it was taking from him, draining away at his source. He wondered if the armor was allowed if it would completely drain away his life, killing him. Palin decided that he would have to find out if that were true. Every gift had it's price.
Caster found him, in the end. She had broken into a house a block in and had found an upper story bedroom where the window commanded a view of the street and the next few blocks. She saw him creeping through the back yards and came down to him, waving him into the house.
"There's food." She explained, "this place must have a generator, the power still works. I found food and a radio."
"Did you have any trouble getting across the field."
Caster nodded, "a little. There was a plane that was on spreading out. It was probably searching for you. It came close to the jungle and then veered away. I made it to the buildings just as another patrol was coming from the other direction."
"But you made it? No one saw you?"
"I'm here aren't I?" Caster said, "why the concern?"
"You." Palin was quiet for a moment, "you could have stayed behind. it would have been safer."
"You don't know that. They could have began shelling the jungle, just for fun. They seem capable of anything." She said, "besides, right now I am standing beside a man who killed three immortals. A man that might be a champion."
Palin pushed past her into the house. "I'm not a champion. Where's the food?"
There was leftover bread and some meat in the freezer. Caster turned out to be well versed in the kitchen, making a simple stew. Palin suddenly became aware of just how hungry he was, teh smells of the cooking meat and broth making his stomach rumble. The radio was satalite, conecting to the common braodcast stations but most of the bands were quiet. Palin played with it until he found a station broadcasting a pirate signal.
"... it is day eight of the great Raid, Hall is at it's knees and the Great Harvest Duke is firmly placed as the leader of this new superpower! Glory to the Duke! In his mercy he pleads with those in hiding to show themselves and give themselves over to his new great regeme! Glory to teh Merciful Duke! He also has a message to all those who harbor feelings of mistrust and anger towards our new institution; your attempts at rebelling at pitiful and misguided. All those that defy, will be struck down. This is for teh good of the whole, all the people of Hall will benifit!"
"The Duke's ranks grow each day. This very hour three more corvettes have pledged aligance to the Harvest Duke, these under the command of Aurther Fell, and his some two hundred strong pirate hold. Word has reached us of two entire clans that wish to allign themselves with the Harvest Duke and share in teh spoils of this war! Great is our Duke! Once Hall is completely ours, it is in his eyes to take more planet holds, liberating the colonies one at a time from the tyrany of the Arc..."
Palin turned the dial, disgusted.
"It is only propaganda." Caster said, putting a large bowl filled with stew in front of him and curling up into a large overstuffed chair. "they mean to aggitate the people of this city, of this land. They can not hold this place."
"No, but they can take what they will and burn everything else to the ground." Plain growled.
"This I know, this I have seen." Caster said, poking at her food with a fork, "I do not need to be told. We could wait them out here, if you wish, or search for your family though I do not think you will find them here."
"Or find my unit..."
"Whatever is left of you unit, it is not the same. More likely you could attach yourself to some ragtag rebellion. there is sure to be resistance, gurialla warfare. It is the only way to hinder a force of this size when your resources are limited."
"I want to see the vaults." Palin said, looking out the window, "We'll stay here for now, and go there tonight."
Caster lifted her bowl of stew in a toast, "until tonight then."
2008 saw alot of changes. I got married, we then fiance and I purchased our first home which I call a house but most call a condo and the prospect of being published finally loomed! i am sad to say that the published product does not loom so much anymore, as Parables has suffered a breach of contract with our publisher, but it WILL be published. APrable 2 is also in teh pipe and Caroline is doing a bang up smashing job on teh art. I just recieved the first colors today and trust me, this book will be an EVENT.
Looking into the yawning future of tomorrow land seems appropriate for this post, as it is the 6th of January and there is still a lot of the coming year to enjoy. Projects that are coming up are the aforementioned Parables (both of them) and another Nano, though that seems a long way away. I have committed myself to finishing last year's Nano project, and have even drawn a diagram with which to assist this goal. On top of that there are a few other projects: Mirror, Mirror(working title), Practical Magic(working title, I know its been taken before) and a super hero story inspired by a very well done comic 'Noble Causes'.
Things I'm looking forward to this year: snowboarding, purchasing a replacement bike for the one that was stolen last year, purchasing some sort of poisoned/electrified horror lock to protect the past from repeating itself, finishing a large writing project so Tina will have less cause to roll her eyes at my dreams of becoming a real writer :), seeing 'The Watchmen' in theaters, reading 'Hitch-hikers guide to the Galaxy', finishing George RR Martin's existing 'Song of Fire and Ice' books (there will be 3 more, come on Martin!), playing Starcraft 2 (possibly buying a new computer to enjoy it on) and growing as a person.
Man look at that, looks like a myspace blog, all personal and stuff. Here's what matters to you guys!
I do plan on updating more writing here. And given that I have started using google docs as the paper medium for my writing I really think it may work out. For starters I'll include an excerpt from Crosswind Gambit, my Nano project. This scene may not exist in the same way in teh final product, it probably won't, but its a good look at what to expect.
Whats happened is that Caster and Palin (two fo teh main characters) have just escaped from an old Temple that was a prison for three immortals. They infected Palin with a virus, hoping to make Palin their servant, to command him to free them. Instead Palin manges to kill all three and escape with Caster. They are travelling to Tollin city to try and find Palin's family. Caster is an errant, a superhero type and Palin is now infected with a virus that reacts to specialized armor, giving him certain extra normal abilities.
Happy New year You guys and Enjoy,
John, The Writer
.:Homecoming for a godslayer:.
Tollin was chaos.
Whatever had happened here had happened a few days ago and now the city flew the sickle of the Harvesters as well as half a dozen others that Palin didn't understand or remember. The temple had been further than Caster had remembered, at least forty kilometers instead of twenty. It took the better part of two days to hike to the city. Palin found that he didn't get tired and needed far less sleep than normal, making Caster the one that had to frantically keep up. She did so without complaint, using her power to boost her when neccessary to catch up with Palin's relestless run.
They had found the doors in the prison still opperational, though three had been smashed, supposedly by Ibis. the one that led to the temple closest to Tollin was opperational and recognized Caster's blood almost immediantely. Palin had wanted to leave immediantly, but Caster had insisted on taking an hour and burying the three bodies they left behind. Palin had begun to argue when Caster had laughed and said unless he planned to cut the blood out of her himself, he would have to wait. The thought of that scared him and he had relented, helping carry and compose the bodies.
"I do not know what gods pray to, but I will say a few words in my own way." Caster said when Ibis, Anunis and the lady were laid to rest beneath a pile of stone. She had then sung a low and lilting song, mournful and joyful in turns. Caster had a passable alto and Palin found himself being reminded of the summer rains, soothing and cool.
"There, no ghosts will haunt this place." Caster gazed around, "at least no more than haunted it before."
From the temple they had made for a road, one of the main ones that traversed from Tollin to the inner states but found that it was being held by memebers of the Harvesters. Fearing the worst they had travelled as fast as they could across country towatds Tollin, avioding the road and any other civilization as much as possible. They crossed one village, much like Caster's, that was being ransacked and in a calm rage Caster tore down a tree, forcing it though the cab of a military truck. She stopped the pillaging of one house and told the family inside to run. They did, but the looks on their faces told Palin that they were as much afraid of her as they were of the harvester men.
"They don't understand." Palin said, "you did the right thing saving them, even if they don't appreciate it."
Caster nodded but didn't look like she agreed. They took what they could from the harvester's stock, Palin arming himself with a pistol and rifle to replace his that were still half way around the world and down a hole. Both took what they could to replace their clothes, that had become tatters in the time spent in the temples and fighting Ibis. Caster found woman's clothes in one of the huts and clothed herself in blue skirts and a layers of shirts under a light jacket. They were colorful and Palin spoke against them, said that the blacks and army greens would blend better in the deep jungle. Caster said that there were other things to consider and that she was tired of wearing the clothes of unwashed, dead soldiers. Palin couldn't argue.
After the village there was only miles and miles of jungle. Palin still wore the armor in a bag on his back, still suspicious as to it's function. he voiced it once that even though the immortals that forged it were dead, he did not trust it.
"Then why kill for it?" Caster asked. Palin had no answer for that and ran on in silence.
As the distance between them and Tollin grew smaller, Palin grew more and more sullen. At times he would not speak for hours and then only to call some direction or request from Caster. On the second night Caster asked him what was on mind, that all he did was think and brrod lately.
"Tomorrow we'll get there and I'll see it." Palin said poking at their fire with a stick. "For better or worse, I'll see it."
"You don't know what you'll see."
"Maybe I don't." he said, "maybe in my heart I know exactly what I'll find and I don't know what I'm going to do about it."
"That is life's worst plague and greatest gift."
"What is?"
"The great mystery of life." Caster said with a sad smile, "it throws us into it without a care. Men speak of gods, men strive to become gods, but in the end there is only one real master of our lives and that is us. If we walk into the mystery with courage, we can not fail, no matter what we choose or how we fair."
"I wonder where you got so wise." Palin said.
Caster smiled saddly, "everything I am I owe to my father."
"I thought you might say that." Palin nodded, 'what would your father say when he rises the crest tomorrow and looks down at his city in flames?"
"You don't know that for certain." Caster said, "I need sleep. Till morning."
"Till the morning."
Now standing on the ridge that surrounded Tollin city like a fortified wall at the edge of the jungle, Palin watched his city burning. The skyline was there, rising out of the jungle flat like a glass and metal mountain scape and black smoke ringed the tops of them. At the main roads into the city there were harvester vehicles pulled over and towering units of powered armor stood on guard. Over the city six corvettes hovered, once in a while lances of energy stabbed out into the city, reaching out to touch hidden people. Flights of fighters passed over head, their mark a severed head with an eye patch. bands of mercenaries and harvesters roved the outskirts of the city, patrolling in ragged kill squds.
"There it is, buring." Palin said. "but the vaults may be safe, they might be ok."
"What if they're not?"
"My family is safe, they must have made it out alive, they must have. We have to check the vaults."
"Past that?" Caster asked, pointing down into the city, "your family may well be alive, but the only way they are is if they were slaved out or got out of the city before the invasion. Those are their only chances, there isn't another."
"But we need to face that mystery with courage." Palin said grimmly, taking the armor off his shoulder, "and the answers lay in there. I have to go, you don't have to come with me."
"Your family means that much to you, trully?"
"If your father was still alive and you had a chance to save him, even teh smallest chance, wouldn't you take it?"
Caster was silent for a moment. "I saw him shot, I could not save him. Even if he was able to be saved, it was not in my power. I've made peace with that."
"But if you could have, you would have saved him."
"Of course."
"Then you know I have to at least try."
Caster nodded, "then I will come with you. I doubt you will be able to make it through there alone, even with that technology strapped to you." She gestured at teh pieces of armor that Palin was taking from his pack, "do you even know how it works?"
"I think you just put it on... if its based on the old technology they were talking about, then it might be activated through blood. Or energy." Palin said, "Anunis told me I wasn't infected with the Kael virus, but something similar to it. All the histories say that immortals are basically men, but that their organic matter has been converted into a living machine. Everything is still there its just... changed."
"Corrupted." Caster said flattly.
"Whatever it is, the immortals in the stories were able to power devices with their internal power sources. i think it has to do with a changed heart." Palin winced and rubbed at his chest. "Whatever the virus is doing, it's still working at it. THe pain isn't as bad as it was before, but its there, always there."
"I guess the only thing to do for it is to try."
Palin nodded, finishing to array the pieces on the ground in front of him. THere was a half chest plate that covered the shoulders, and came just to the top of his stomache. The piece had been polished and painted black. There was also a belt, greaves and guantlets, each painted the same gigh polish black, smooth and for teh most part unremarkable. The only devise on any of it was a small emblem on the back of the shoulder section, a black white and red circle cut in three parts by a curving line. Everything snapped into place, and Palin could swear that the shoulder pieces molded to him as he was setting them in place.
"Does it fit?" Caster asked, standing backa bit.
"Well enough but I think... oh." Palin felt the belt tighten by itself then a pricking at the base of his spine. "It's doing something to my back I... AHHHHHH..."
The belted plunged itself into Palin's back, and seemed to join with his spine. Alikewise the another spike pushed itself into the base of Palin's neck, driving right into bone and nerves. the guantlets and greaves were lesser pain but still sent spines into his flesh, bonding with the bone beneath. Palin fell to his knees, a scream escaping his lips. Caster rushed to his side, grabbing at the armror with the intention of ripping it off him but Palin stopped her, shaking his head.
"What is it doing to you?" Caster asked, concern on her face.
Palin gritted his teeth and grunted then managed to say, "its working."
Palin felt the armor now, felt the systems it held in it's casing and knew he had access to them. He wasn't certain exactly what all of tehm did, but they were there, ready for him to use at a moments notice. The pain he felt was his body again reconfiguring to let the armor inside, to interface at an unconcious level. He knew the armror wasn't like he was, wasn't living metal, but at teh same time it had a basic intelegence. It knew that Palin was it's power source, and knew how to find that power. It sensed the virus in Palin and reached out to grab it in painful embrace. With effort, Palin stood.
"You can't go in thre like that. Look at them, look at their guns!" Caster said, "you can barely move!"
"It'll get better." Palin said. It already was better, he could feel blood down his back where the armro had bit into his neck, but he could also feel the information it was giving him, pumping distances and ranges right into his mind. Hesitantly he drew teh pistol and raised it up, pointing at one of the tower's in the distance. In a second his vision narrowed and zoomed in on a man sitting on the front of a half track, smoking a cigerette. Palin knew in teh same instant that the pistol didn't have the range to kill the man, that he would have to move five hundred meters closer to be within killing range.
"It's already getting better." He smiled and holstered the gun, "Come on."
From the ridge to the edge of the jungle where Tollin city began was a hazardeous climb. They spotted three scout teams that, had the scouts been attentive, would have alerted those inside the barriers as to their presence. The jungle had been cleared away from teh precise city limits before to make way for progress, but in this time war teh open sapce had become a killing field. Bodies and burt ount husks of machines littered the cratered grass, sapling trees that had started the long process of regrouth were blasted off at the roots. A few salvage teams rooted among the bodies and teh remains of the machines, finding odd things of value to add to thier plunder. Each team was heavily armed and carried the severed head patch on their guns, flack jackets and bare arms. They looked little more than pirates or renegades.
"What now? We can't force our way in." Caster hissed.
"I know, I know..." Palin held his hand to his head in frustrated thought. "We need a disguise... we need... hmm."
"What is it now... oh..."
Palin was watching his arm flicker and fade, turning into something unseen. He was slowly becoming invisible. Palin could feel teh armor doing it for him, in his head the logistics on teh power supply become known to him and he understood that the field could only remain active for little over ten minutes. He would need to act fast.
"I'll create a diversion, you run for the edge." Palin said, parlty mystified that the suit was working for him. "See, aren't you glad I took this thing now?"
"Just be careful. I'll watch for your sign." Caster said.
"You won't be able to miss it." Palin grinned, but Caster didn't see it and neither did she notice when he'd slipped away. Palin skirted around the first two salvage crews working in the killing field and headed closer to a third that was working around a bend in the clearing, partially hidden by buildings. Palin grasped a gerande out of the pack he still wore on his back, one of the explossives that he had relieved form the harvesters in teh village they had come across. Quietly he crept up to teh back of teh truck where the men were working. Listening a moment.
"...Fell like a tree in the forest it did, once the front fell." One of the men said laughing.
"Yeah I know, I was there you idgit."
"Never seen so many flags though, never seen so many pirates and clanners in one spot."
"Never seen so much infighting either... clanners are at each other's throats, it's all teh bloody Duke can do to keep them all in line."
"Yeah but there's worlds for the taking, whole worlds!" The first man said. he was a lean and lank man with patchy hair and a dirt smeared face. His smile was lopsided, like he'd been hit too many times on the wrong side of his face. The other was a bigger man with a pot belly that burst over the top of his trousers. Both wore flak vests and web belts hung with ammunition and small arms. There was another bald man driving the truck, he was reading a magazine while the other two worked, cutting the frame of a shelled out tank apart with torches.
"Sure. Taking is fine, keeping's another thing." The big man stood up striaght, stretching his back from teh crouch he'd been settling himself into. He dree a sharp knife from his belt and picked his teeth wth it. "I'd rather the captain fell in with someone who can keep a world. Arc's only one of the super powers. What happens when teh Spire comes with their black ships, eh? They won't sit there in their temples and just let this be. Or teh Striaghts?"
"Pfft, Striaghts are nothing but pirates with airs." The skinny man said, "look, we're capatilists, this here is only a hostile take over. It's probably not quite as ruthless as what they do everyday, buying lives and wrecking dreams."
"Says the man who's sifting through the bodies of people he killed two days ago."
"Least these poor sorry sods had a fighting chance, they fought back. Way I figure Straigths fights so you can't do anything about it, they don't play fair. They'll be snatching up planets as it pleases then, 'cept they'll do it all fancy and those folks won't even know they been hit fater they done. But they'll be beat just the same."
"Still, if the captain was smart, he'd take what he can, fill our hold and run off again into the negative plane where it's safe." The big man nodded, "if he was smart. Staying around here there's bound to be something that goes wrong."
Palin waited until the truck had gone far enough that he had lost sight of where he'd left Caster before setting the gernade gentlely beside teh gas tanks for the torch. he slipped away as quietly as he could, his exit muffled by idle chatter until he made it thirty feet away from the truck, then the explossion masted his headlong run, fire blossoming behind him. there was only one scream; the others were lost completely in the fireball. In moments there was a ground support craft swooping down to teh site, scanning the ground for intruders. As Palin had hoped, the other salvage teams came running, guns at the ready. For a very brief moment of time there was a small window to get to the city as teh watcher's eyes were elsewhere. Palin hoped it would help that the harvesters and their pirates were trying to keep people in, not out.
Palin could only hope that Caster made it without drawing any attention to herself, he was out of sight of her and had to make his way to the city as quickly as he could; the armor's field would not mask him much longer. The city welcomed him wearily when he stepped into it's boundries, like an old friend that Palin had long left a long time ago. It had changed, of course, all things change in teh face of war, but there was still the things that made Tollin city, Tollin city. The edge was estate, their green lawns were mostly still green, though some had been driven over leaving deep tracks in the soft earth. Some houses were obviously ransacked, their doors wide open and banging in the mid morning breezes. The streets were deserted, something that never happened.
The Glass Towers still rose in the skyline, four monsterous towers that housed some of the larger corporate firms in Tollin city stood out like steel swords, now from their heights three massive flags were flown, two of teh Harvester sickle and one with a pirates flag. More sky scrapers huddled around those four, but did not match their heights and Palin could see that at least of the office complexes was blown out and smoking. Smoke was still everywhere, remrants of the battle that had taken the city. Palin remembered the bio sphere, the parks and the water art that dotted Tollin's landscape. Even though he couldn't see them, he knew that they would have been spared; excepting the possibility of a stray shot. There was nothing of value in the real things that Made Tollin city home for him. Still war had marred it all.
Shaking off the feeling of a son coming home, Palin set off circling the estates, back to where he thought Caster might have entered the city. Around him his body shimmered back into sight and there was a pang of pain through his heart. Rubbing at his chest, Palin wondered if the pain would ever get better or if it was a product of the armor's abilities. When the field was active he could feel the power it was taking from him, draining away at his source. He wondered if the armor was allowed if it would completely drain away his life, killing him. Palin decided that he would have to find out if that were true. Every gift had it's price.
Caster found him, in the end. She had broken into a house a block in and had found an upper story bedroom where the window commanded a view of the street and the next few blocks. She saw him creeping through the back yards and came down to him, waving him into the house.
"There's food." She explained, "this place must have a generator, the power still works. I found food and a radio."
"Did you have any trouble getting across the field."
Caster nodded, "a little. There was a plane that was on spreading out. It was probably searching for you. It came close to the jungle and then veered away. I made it to the buildings just as another patrol was coming from the other direction."
"But you made it? No one saw you?"
"I'm here aren't I?" Caster said, "why the concern?"
"You." Palin was quiet for a moment, "you could have stayed behind. it would have been safer."
"You don't know that. They could have began shelling the jungle, just for fun. They seem capable of anything." She said, "besides, right now I am standing beside a man who killed three immortals. A man that might be a champion."
Palin pushed past her into the house. "I'm not a champion. Where's the food?"
There was leftover bread and some meat in the freezer. Caster turned out to be well versed in the kitchen, making a simple stew. Palin suddenly became aware of just how hungry he was, teh smells of the cooking meat and broth making his stomach rumble. The radio was satalite, conecting to the common braodcast stations but most of the bands were quiet. Palin played with it until he found a station broadcasting a pirate signal.
"... it is day eight of the great Raid, Hall is at it's knees and the Great Harvest Duke is firmly placed as the leader of this new superpower! Glory to the Duke! In his mercy he pleads with those in hiding to show themselves and give themselves over to his new great regeme! Glory to teh Merciful Duke! He also has a message to all those who harbor feelings of mistrust and anger towards our new institution; your attempts at rebelling at pitiful and misguided. All those that defy, will be struck down. This is for teh good of the whole, all the people of Hall will benifit!"
"The Duke's ranks grow each day. This very hour three more corvettes have pledged aligance to the Harvest Duke, these under the command of Aurther Fell, and his some two hundred strong pirate hold. Word has reached us of two entire clans that wish to allign themselves with the Harvest Duke and share in teh spoils of this war! Great is our Duke! Once Hall is completely ours, it is in his eyes to take more planet holds, liberating the colonies one at a time from the tyrany of the Arc..."
Palin turned the dial, disgusted.
"It is only propaganda." Caster said, putting a large bowl filled with stew in front of him and curling up into a large overstuffed chair. "they mean to aggitate the people of this city, of this land. They can not hold this place."
"No, but they can take what they will and burn everything else to the ground." Plain growled.
"This I know, this I have seen." Caster said, poking at her food with a fork, "I do not need to be told. We could wait them out here, if you wish, or search for your family though I do not think you will find them here."
"Or find my unit..."
"Whatever is left of you unit, it is not the same. More likely you could attach yourself to some ragtag rebellion. there is sure to be resistance, gurialla warfare. It is the only way to hinder a force of this size when your resources are limited."
"I want to see the vaults." Palin said, looking out the window, "We'll stay here for now, and go there tonight."
Caster lifted her bowl of stew in a toast, "until tonight then."
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Nano 2008!
Its November again and that means its time for National Novel Writing Month! Woot! I'm not going to spend alot of time talking about my story (or apologizing for never updating this blog for that matter...) But I figured I'd do a little synopsis.
Crosswind Gambit ( working title) is a Science Fiction space opera (I'm hoping anyway) I've never really tried for this type of story, but Nano is the time to try new things. It will be influenced by 'A Game of Thrones' by George R. Martin (for the politics and feel) and by all the classics, Dune, star Wars etc. Of course I will be giving it my own blend but overall, a pretty serious feel with just a bit of humor thrown in. Even teh tragedies have clowns.
The premis:
Far far future, man has discovered spaceflight is possible through alternate planes of existance and spread itself out to the stars. Earth is lost to memory as wars and disasters ravenge man. Through all of this men are resolute; as in their past they divide themselves and teh strong build up castles to defend the weak. Those that linger long in the 'Negative Planes' find that they change, creating races of men whose bodies are changed, genetics altered.
Into this the great houses of their time are thrust, and their Lords quarrel over planets, dancing in an eternal game of intrigue and war, alliance and foe. Anchient blood feuds rage through this plane and the negative plane. And through all this a deadly enemy waits to strike, the man made menace of the Kael, an artificail organism created with the sole purpose of making men strong; or breaking them forever.
Thats it, very general I know BUT I have another very special bit of info. This year I'm going to try and use google documents to write my story. What this means is that if you anyone has a gmail account and wants to keep tabs on the story, I'll make it read only for you. Just let me know. And any toher Nano'ers out there, keep the faith! the stories will come!
John, the Writer.
Its November again and that means its time for National Novel Writing Month! Woot! I'm not going to spend alot of time talking about my story (or apologizing for never updating this blog for that matter...) But I figured I'd do a little synopsis.
Crosswind Gambit ( working title) is a Science Fiction space opera (I'm hoping anyway) I've never really tried for this type of story, but Nano is the time to try new things. It will be influenced by 'A Game of Thrones' by George R. Martin (for the politics and feel) and by all the classics, Dune, star Wars etc. Of course I will be giving it my own blend but overall, a pretty serious feel with just a bit of humor thrown in. Even teh tragedies have clowns.
The premis:
Far far future, man has discovered spaceflight is possible through alternate planes of existance and spread itself out to the stars. Earth is lost to memory as wars and disasters ravenge man. Through all of this men are resolute; as in their past they divide themselves and teh strong build up castles to defend the weak. Those that linger long in the 'Negative Planes' find that they change, creating races of men whose bodies are changed, genetics altered.
Into this the great houses of their time are thrust, and their Lords quarrel over planets, dancing in an eternal game of intrigue and war, alliance and foe. Anchient blood feuds rage through this plane and the negative plane. And through all this a deadly enemy waits to strike, the man made menace of the Kael, an artificail organism created with the sole purpose of making men strong; or breaking them forever.
Thats it, very general I know BUT I have another very special bit of info. This year I'm going to try and use google documents to write my story. What this means is that if you anyone has a gmail account and wants to keep tabs on the story, I'll make it read only for you. Just let me know. And any toher Nano'ers out there, keep the faith! the stories will come!
John, the Writer.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Mixing it up.
I figure its about time to put my heart on my sleeve and let everyone in on a little secret of mine: I love long stories. I really do! I like watching characters run through their adventures over the course of months and years, through different arcs and different seasons. Given enough time we begin to expect certain things, know all the references and why a character might act a certain way. That sort of knowledge base has to built over time, there's no other way to do it. It's a natural progression of plot and history that's much like life expierence.
Now, and this is the beautiful thing, a story can hit a spot where there is enough accumulated reader expierence with the story that the reader takes certain things for granted. The writer, if they are attuned to this, can go two ways with this certain 'reader state':
1) A writer can streamline their writing. As long as the reader is current on all the story content up to a certain point, a writer can take liberties and move on to new things, building on the old.
2) A writer can completely change the direction of the story. This is actually nessesary at a certain point in the story to breath new life into it. The same pony doing the same tricks can at times become boring if not handled correctly.
I was thinking a bit about this today and it really just bioled down to that. Any writer trying to build an epic world and story has to do so slowly, building on each subsequent piece of information. Tolkien and Jordan used a classic method I like to call 'the student character' that the writer can teach with a teacher character. In this way the reader learns naturally along with the naive character about how the world works outside of the student character's isolate existance.
I think more than anything I'm tired and wanted to write a little something. This whole thing was inspired by Scott Kurtz's www.pvp-online.com recent events. He really shook up a world that had been since set in stone of some sort. Two characters marrying, effectively removing a character and updating the art for two others through scandaleous means. It's a bold move that may frighten some readers, anger others and invigorate the rest and I say hats off to you Scott, hats off to you.
John.
I figure its about time to put my heart on my sleeve and let everyone in on a little secret of mine: I love long stories. I really do! I like watching characters run through their adventures over the course of months and years, through different arcs and different seasons. Given enough time we begin to expect certain things, know all the references and why a character might act a certain way. That sort of knowledge base has to built over time, there's no other way to do it. It's a natural progression of plot and history that's much like life expierence.
Now, and this is the beautiful thing, a story can hit a spot where there is enough accumulated reader expierence with the story that the reader takes certain things for granted. The writer, if they are attuned to this, can go two ways with this certain 'reader state':
1) A writer can streamline their writing. As long as the reader is current on all the story content up to a certain point, a writer can take liberties and move on to new things, building on the old.
2) A writer can completely change the direction of the story. This is actually nessesary at a certain point in the story to breath new life into it. The same pony doing the same tricks can at times become boring if not handled correctly.
I was thinking a bit about this today and it really just bioled down to that. Any writer trying to build an epic world and story has to do so slowly, building on each subsequent piece of information. Tolkien and Jordan used a classic method I like to call 'the student character' that the writer can teach with a teacher character. In this way the reader learns naturally along with the naive character about how the world works outside of the student character's isolate existance.
I think more than anything I'm tired and wanted to write a little something. This whole thing was inspired by Scott Kurtz's www.pvp-online.com recent events. He really shook up a world that had been since set in stone of some sort. Two characters marrying, effectively removing a character and updating the art for two others through scandaleous means. It's a bold move that may frighten some readers, anger others and invigorate the rest and I say hats off to you Scott, hats off to you.
John.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
More Blog wit!
Ok so I've kinda been neglecting this blog, but that doesn't mean I haven't been busy. On teh writing side of things I've been tuning 'Culture' working a bit on a project my good friend Saara suggested (It's called 'Mirror, Mirror' and so far its been a blast to write!) and of course work has started on the next Parable anthology. We're doing a Piper Sorrow's story, a modified version of 'Trust in the Snow' it's shaping up to be fantastic. :) As well as all that I've been helping to keep the blog updated at the Parable website. Twice a month you can read my literary genius. Visit, enjoy and the reflect on teh hidden mysteries that lie within those simple words.
On the normal life side of things the wedding is fast approaching. I'd liken it to train jumping just 'cause it's exciting, unstoppable and possibly very dangerous. Still lots of fun, but lots of planning to keep us busy. We also just got our condo whose walls are like a pubescent boy; covered in bumps and irregulairties. We will be first filling, then sanding and THEN painting these walls so that we can take some pride in being home owners.
Comic wise I NEED to send clue everyone into this man and his work. http://endling.deviantart.com/ As an artist he's fantastic, but as a mind he is more than that. Each character is fantastic yet still beleivable; their abilities, traits and personalities a fount of inspiration. Then move to the writing. It's work with layers, and each next layer is as good or better than the previous in such a manner that once you start digging, you may never, ever find your way out.
And check this comic as well. I found it by chance and I'm glad that I did: http://lfgcomic.com/
On teh wirting side, I may post some Mirror, Mirror as it gets worked on, but those that hold hope of this may be disappionted. I think, for the summer at least, most of my writing will be focused on Parable and then on personal projects as time allows. I'll try and keep some updates coming, but until the wedding's over and we're moved in comfortably, I can't see my free time being my own anymore.
Thanks for reading!
John, the Writer.
Ok so I've kinda been neglecting this blog, but that doesn't mean I haven't been busy. On teh writing side of things I've been tuning 'Culture' working a bit on a project my good friend Saara suggested (It's called 'Mirror, Mirror' and so far its been a blast to write!) and of course work has started on the next Parable anthology. We're doing a Piper Sorrow's story, a modified version of 'Trust in the Snow' it's shaping up to be fantastic. :) As well as all that I've been helping to keep the blog updated at the Parable website. Twice a month you can read my literary genius. Visit, enjoy and the reflect on teh hidden mysteries that lie within those simple words.
On the normal life side of things the wedding is fast approaching. I'd liken it to train jumping just 'cause it's exciting, unstoppable and possibly very dangerous. Still lots of fun, but lots of planning to keep us busy. We also just got our condo whose walls are like a pubescent boy; covered in bumps and irregulairties. We will be first filling, then sanding and THEN painting these walls so that we can take some pride in being home owners.
Comic wise I NEED to send clue everyone into this man and his work. http://endling.deviantart.com/ As an artist he's fantastic, but as a mind he is more than that. Each character is fantastic yet still beleivable; their abilities, traits and personalities a fount of inspiration. Then move to the writing. It's work with layers, and each next layer is as good or better than the previous in such a manner that once you start digging, you may never, ever find your way out.
And check this comic as well. I found it by chance and I'm glad that I did: http://lfgcomic.com/
On teh wirting side, I may post some Mirror, Mirror as it gets worked on, but those that hold hope of this may be disappionted. I think, for the summer at least, most of my writing will be focused on Parable and then on personal projects as time allows. I'll try and keep some updates coming, but until the wedding's over and we're moved in comfortably, I can't see my free time being my own anymore.
Thanks for reading!
John, the Writer.
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