the writings and work of John Gunningham

2009-10-30T14:54:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!

I understand the nature of Halloween, it's origins and how they run contrary to Christian faith. But, like most holidays, I feel it's been degraded to a point of comerciallization that I don't think spending 20$ and putting together an interesting costume once a year means anything. How else would my wife put up with me creating authentic Samuarai armor out of cardboard? (last year's masterpiece) Or this year my mummy costume? I hope that by the time I die I'll have a venerable stable of costumes to dress in and that they'll be improved upon by future generations and worn for years. Next year I want to make a verion of my armor that allows me to sit. Not sure if real samurai had that problem, but metal has alot less give than cardboard so I have to imagine so.

November is upon me, so I must put a temporary stop on all things Mynfield and Mysterious. My good internet friend Bekah has asked that I revisit my first Nano story, and I am planning on complying. Thus 1001 will get the rewrite it so richly deserves. I'm a more mature writer with a much more mature story idea this time around filled with a desire to complete this project at least to its first installment. I think it will go well.

I know it has been a while since I last posted, but my hands have not been idle, I assure you. Chapter four is finished and most of chapter five. I've done extensive editing to a few previous chapters in order to bring everything more in line with how I want the finsihed story to read and went back and did some world building so that I have few continuity problems. Reading through a discworld artbook, Terry Prachette talked about having teh same problem with his city, Ank-morpork.

In the first few books the city was a city, a blob in the imagination that was used to hold events that happened and give venue for plot. As his stories progressed the city became more and more fleshed out until actual minatures of the city could be created down to how many steps it would take (or minutes) for a character to travel from one location to the next. I'm not that far along yet, but it is good practice that if Adder Street crosses Python Street at some point, it should always do so and the historic Statue at that juncture should stay static and not drift listlessly.

I'm posting chapter 4 now, because I'm happy with it and have chapter 5 in the pipe for the end of November. I won't be posting much 1001, unless it is requested.

Wish me luck in the 50K marathon, I have a good outline, I'm fairly sure I will succeed given a good start and some inspiration. Until then

John, the Writer.

Chapter four

All in all the day had so far went ok. There was a prospect of iminent death, to be sure, and the day had already held the means for an early demise, but any day where death is cheated was counted as a good day in the books of Jonas Mynfield. He also felt much wealthier, having the bars in his vault, coins from betting on himself and a small amount coming from Juris labs. Jonas frowned as he made his way back to his offices; that was the small dark spot on the day. He had met briefly with the men on the ship after they had sufficently contained their monster, and they had been less than happy. Things could have gone wrong, they said, and there would be property damage to contain. Jonas had pointed out that he doubted that anyone else would have done as well or worse and that, really, Mynfield Investigations wasn't equiped to deal with their type of problem. The three men, all short birdlike creatures with ruffled feathers and a way of holding thier short yellow beaks higher than needed had scatched thier feet in anger and Jonas had sighed, settling on half of what they had promised to begin with. The rest would go to the watch and the the Royals to smooth over any damages. Jonas couldn't argue that, at least they had agreed to deal with fairweather.
With the coins in his pocket, Jonas had decided to walk the long way back to his offices, by way of bachlor street so named for its many taverns. The close street wound it's way from the South East corner of the docks in a serpatine way all the way to the edge of the business core. It was a walkable distance from the low town businesses, the docks as well as the university and as such was populated by sailors, laborours, students as well as middle class businessmen, all with mouths close to drinks and spilling out of teh many taverns and intot eh street. the hour was half past business close and the next tram out to Green Way housing development would not leave for another forty minutes; a convient amount of time for any who not naught but a nagging wife and screaming childern at home. Moving into the press of bodies fromteh docks, Jonas closed his eyes and let the turbulance and noise wash over him with a deep breath.
"I do so miss this." He murmured to himself and set off to find a corner in a pub with room. Past the street opening layered with ladies of the night come out a little early dressed in an assortment of lace, leather and in some cases moss was the Bended Knee, it's patrons crowding out not only the front door but the second and thrid floor windows as well. Jonas stopped and chatted pleasantly with the women but skirted the Bended Knee along wth everyone else with sense. The bar was owned by a family of Horizian Royals and it was well known that the Knee was a good place to go if you wanted yours broken. Similararly Jonas passed by the Body Market, Headstone and Silvertounge until he came to a smallish building only two stories among it's taller cousins. there was a squat looking man with a squarish head and several stitching scars across his brow and a nose that looked lik it had been broken several times and set back by a cross eyed man. he broke into a wide grin when he saw Jonas approach.
"Its been a spell since I've seen teh likes of you down this fair alley, son." He said, tapping his left arm. "I still haven't thanked you properly for helping out me and the misus this spring. I owe you a drink, that I do, and you should have come to get a long while back!"
Jonas smiled, "I have been busy Tony and, I must confess, I'm here more on business than on pleasure. I've come into a spot of coin you see and..."
"Well Hilda will be right happy to hear that." Tony nodded, "she's in the back, like she is most times. Its good crowd tonight, don't take too much of her time, you hear?"
Jonas smiled and tugged at his colar, "I wouldn't dream of it."
"See that you don't." Tony said grimmly, "a man with no head makes a dismal drinking companion and I still mean to buy you a flagon or two. You're months behind on the rent, you know."
"I know." Jonas' smile fell a touch, but he stood up straight and made his way into the smallish building with the tall door, over which a side was hung with a picture of a mounted man with a bow and arrow. It had been a long while since Jonas dared show his face in the Huntsman.
Inside was heavy air and the smell of close bodies. Students from teh university frequented the Huntsman, the founder of the pub eighty-three years ago had been a retired Professor that had fallen out of line with his royal family over his theories and been forced to find other means of income. Hence the Huntsman always had a fond nostolgic smile for any student that entered her doors; extra smiles on wendsday between four and eight where studnets drank for half price. Ownership of the Huntsman had passed from the original owner's hands since it's founding, and through theivery, gambling and murder the deed had found it's way into the large hands of Hilda. Jonas saw her as soon as stepped through the door; it wasn't hard, she stood three feet taller than any other and her blonde head peered over the deviding wall that separated the back room and kitchen from the common room. She saw him as soon as he walked in the door. Pulling a thick cigar out of her mouth she gestured for him to come into her office. Jonas shivered and then complied.
Hilda was a giant woman, dressed in a dark brown suit with teh arms of teh shirt and jacket ripped off. It wasn't a fashion statement; her arms would not fit. Despite her bulging muscles, her face was pretty, and she had yards of golden blonde hair that she kept tied up in a long braid. A bat the size of a sappling was leaning in the corner in arms reach, she was rumored to have hit an unruly man over the alley with that bat. Jonas believed that truthfully the man had flown much farther.
"Sit down Jonas." Hilda said, pointing to a chair across from a long wide desk that was filled with papers. A monkey wearing an accountants visor was pounding away happily on mechanical typewriter at the other end, it hardly looked up from it's work as he ran the figures through his method.
"Of course." Jonas sat. "It's been a while since I last frequented this particular local."
"You're due." Hilda said, "of course, thats nothign new, you're always due." She shuffled the papers on her desk, following on column of numbers with a massive finger. "lucky for you, I like you. Not why most of teh girls like you, but I lilke you. You're likable."
"I try my very best."
"Also business is good. the betting, the rings all the tenants, its all been very good this year." She continued, for the most part ignoring JOnas in his chair, "I don't need your money. I have all kinds of money, some of it's even legitamate money. The young royals, they're mad for gambling. They'll give you money for anything. Cards, dice, fights, races, they don't care. And most of them are stupid, so I keep their money and they dip a little further into the trust fund."
"I'm familure with their kind, unfortunately." Jonas said, images of the Taras childern coming unbidden into his mind. He doubted that Randal gambled with anything so trival as money, but he must be intoxicated by the risk in his acesension to power.
"You're not like that though. You don't hae anything and whatever it is you do happen to have, well thats something you've earned." She finally looked up at him, "I heard about your romp near teh docks. Giant turtle was it?"
"Red tortiose, actually. Mutant." He had almsot said 'gaint' but thought better of it. This visit was going rather well.
"They look the same." Hilda said, "I heard you got some coin as well, betting. We're in the same business it seems, only I bet on people losing their money and you always bet on yourself."
"Seems the logical choice, in my expierence if you bet on others, you're setting yourself up to fail."
"Logic. thats you. You were smart to come here first. I hear alot. I'll take it all, you don't charge enough rent on that collapsed building of yours to pay me the morgage. I don't know why that is."
"It is a problem for me." Jonas said carefully. A larger problem for his tenants that, without him, would be on teh streets for the Urchins to find. The thought of Mrs Harp and her children at the mercies of the street people was not one that gave him pleasant dreams.
Hilda squinted her eyes, "maybe you're a saint?"
"I very much doubt that." Jonas said. He handed her the bag of coin. Hilda hefted it without ceremony and threw it in the direction of her accountant who looked up sharply and caught the bag with quick reflexes.
"It's garbage currancy, about six hundred. It helps on your tab, gets one of your quick little feet out of the hole you've dug around yourself. Here." She leaned under the desk and pulled out a glass tumbler that looked small in her hands and unscrewed the top of a glass bottle, pouring some brown liquid into teh cup. "On teh house. It's for your trip."
"Er... trip?" Jonas said, "I wasn't aware I was going anywhere."
"Oh you're going. Expedition later, and a coach ride now." She gestured to the back door, "I like you because of the other business you give me too, you help me make money so I'm not so concerned that you're so behind on your bills. You're going out the back, there's a car waiting for you there. I wouldn't try running." She tapped the bat. "Have a good day Jonas Mynfield."
Dumbfounded Jonas took the tumbler and nodded a thanks. "I should go now then?"
The monkey stopped his tapping long enough to look up and raise an eyebrow, then went back to his work.
"Er.. right."
The back door opened to an alley with the normal garbage bins, refuge and rats. Standing out like a parka in the middle of the desert was a white and silver coach, the driver holding open one of the back doors. There was elegant wood inserts on the door and a at the crest of the hood, a silver bull stood proudly, horns curling up and out. The Taras family mascot. The driver was dressed in a long overcoat and smart black hat with an easy smile.
"If you'll just step right this way Mr Mynfield, there we go. You need't have brought your own liquor there's a cabinet in the back, fully stocked." He said amiably, "there we go, and then we'll be off."
The inside of the car was unnaturally dark, even after the shadows of the alley. Jonas squinted a little and shuffled over into the middle of the bench seat, unconsciously admiring the luxury of the car despite its probably hostile nature. It has a large truck, Jonas said to himself, I'm sure large enough to hold your dead body. But these were royals and though they often had people killed, they rarely bothered to bloody their own hands. Jonas was safe enough, so long as the car did not open it's doors in some abandoned quay populated by undesirable men. Slowly Jonas' eyes adjusted.
The man sitting across from him was small, olive skinned and had memories of black in his white hair. The piercing eyes, the curl to his white locks and the face were familure, Jonas had seen them all earlier that day. The wore an incredibly handsome white suit with a red flower blooming from his front pocket and though his face was creased with thin lines, Jonas knew he wouldn't have any trouble attracting younger, beautiful women. His smile was that of a fox, a quick upturn at the corner of the mouth and nothing else.
"Hello Mr. Mynfield."
"Hello Rupert Taras." Jonas said confidently. The man nodded.
"You are clever, maybe even half as clever as they say you are. That's good. But you're a royal, or so they say, so I'm wondering how clever you really are?" He leaned forward and tapped a long thick cane on the glass between the driver and passanger compartments and the car slid down the alley, smooth as silk. "I'll drive you back to your little apartment complex, if you don't mind entertaining an old man a few moments."
"Not at all." Jonas said, taking a small sip from his drink, "I find there is much wisdom to gain from those of superior years. So long as you don't mind me drinking .. whatever this is, we'll get along smashingly. In so far it has been a long day and I could use a little numbing."
"Hilda's drinks will do that." Rupert Taras said, keeping his eyes fixed tightly on Jonas.
A slience descended until Jonas broke it with an uncomfortable throat clearing. The car had already made it's way half way through the alley and was nearing the turn that would take them past the Markets and into Steph Downing. Past Steph Downing it is was minutes to Starfields and Myfield Manors. Rupert's gaze continued to be unforgiving until sudenly, as if he had reached a decision, he turned and gazed out the window.
"It wasn't always like this you know. The fighting used to be civilized, there was a certain art to it; a flair." Rupert told the window. Jonas felt nearly guilty listening in, but gulped down some more his tumbler. A small fire was building in the pit of his stomache. Whatever Hilda had poured him was not what she fed the Students on the cheap night.
"Family was sacred, you didn't touch them, no matter what they did, how they moved to stop you. And at every turn they would try to stop you, every turn. It's a hard life, a royal's life, they say it's the assasine's knife that kills a Royal, but it's the politics that does. Gets in your bllod, works it's slow poison. Family was different, it was all teh same blood afterall. You never liked your family, but you always loved them." He turned his eyes back to Jonas, "I love my family, Mr Mynfield, but things don't work the way they used to work."
"I thought this might have something to do with your ... family." Jonas said carefully. The man might have been old, but he had danced with assasins, royals and politicians and was still breathing to tell about it. However grim and obtuse his son had been, surrounded as he was with guards and his stewart, Jonas felt more ill at ease here with this old man. Outside a butcher shop passed by, the bulbous man under the awning swinging his cleaver hard. The market district passed by. "I had the pleasure of meeting your family recently, your childern, but I think you know that already."
"Still being clever I see? Yes, of course I know, its why you're here. I won't ask what it is you're doing for them, I have suspicions that will be confirmed very soon. I know Randal doesn't trust you. Likely as not he'll kill you after your contract is complete. It's how he's opperated in the past." Rupert shook his head.
"I suspected that as well." Jonas admitted.
"His mind he got from me, but I'm afraid my late wife filled him with ruthlessness. That's how he thinks, if you use something, you use it all, every ounce of it, and discard it afterwards." Rupert said with the same fox smile, "He'll use you in the same way, though I doubt he's smart enough to use all your resourcefulness."
"I will take that as a compliment." Jonas said returning the smile and taking a sip.
"I should, I'm sparing with my compliments." Rupert said.
Jonas nodded, beleiving him, "A question, if I may?"
"Of course."
"I have the feeling of being a pawn, currently. Two kings moving a piece across a board. In my expierence, a pawn can not be governed by two kings."
"It can happen, but it rarely lasts." Rupert said, "and that was not a question."
"Ahh.. yes. The question would be, how do you differ from your son? Are your assets so easily discarded?"
"Ahh, they tell stories about you, about how you can talk. A silver tonuge they say." The old Taras smiled, "entertaining. No, I reward those deserving of it. If I kill you, there will be a good reason. If I pay you, you will have earned it."
"Good to hear Sir."
"Sir? Respect, I like that." Rupert said, then leaned forward a little with his fox grin, "of course you knew that and that is why you said it. Honestly Mynfield, do I frighten you?"
"Honestly, Sir, this drink was full of something out of Hilda's own stock when I sat, and now all I have is a trembling tumbler that wants to be filled again." Jonas said slowly.
"Good, good. I think you are clever. Only a clever royal would survie as long as you have without wealth or power. Usually there is one or the other, sometimes both. It is difficult without either."
"I like to think ability comes into play, and cunning." Jonas said, allowing a small smile of his own, "that's how I've always been. Though it usually works better in business than in romance."
"Hah!" the old man chuckled, then slapped his knee, "Hah! I heard this, you sent letters to my dear daughter, asking her to a meeting. I know how you would have liked to have met her. She wouldn't even consider it, though, she's clever as well. Even if your family were still around. Careful of her, she's dangerous."
"Dangerous... I thought Randal..."
"No. Randal has his plans, his ambitions, he has powers and influence in his own right, but do not turn your back on my dear, sweet Samantha." Rupert's smile turned blank, "She will play her part to whatever tune she needs to, but at the end of it all, even in the midst of the battlefield with the world ruined she will be there, standing in a white gown, perfect, untouched and ahead of everyone else. She is the deadlier of the two, be warned."
"I... thanks for the warning." Jonas said, falling quiet for a time. The car was passing through Steph Downing and soon he would be home.
"I have certain... well, expectations of my clients. Confidentiallity and all that." Jonas said finally, "It's part of why I've been able to survive. I'm trusted and deemed a toothless threat, useful but not dangerous. It is a dificult line to tred upon. As much respect and fear as I have for you, I have a contract."
"I know." Rupert leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, "as quiet as they think they are, I still hear my little mice scribbling around. It's my birthday fast approaching and I think they mean to surprise me. They mean to take control of the entire family through my death, it would happen too. All that keeps royals in line are stronger royals, and the two of them one day will have what it takes, but not yet. It isn't that I'm not ready to step down, its that they aren't ready to step up. One day I will leave this dance, but it will be on my own terms. Do you understand Mynfield?"
"I think I do Mr Taras." Jonas nodded. His tumbler wasn't trembling anymore and the car slid smoothly to a stop at the drive by Mynfield Manor. "It has been a pleasure talking to you Sir."
"Likewise." Rupert Taras tapped his nose, "just remember what I told you, and don't die Mr Mynfield, I should like to have another conversation with you. Take care to bundle up when you leave tomorrow, the Frillda Uplands are frightfully cold this time of year."
The driver opened the door for Jonas and gave him another big smile, wishing him well and hoping that his good health continued. The car pulled away near silent and left Jonas standing somewhat bewildered on the curb with an empty tumbler in his hand. It took a moment to fully appreciate what had just happened to him.
"The old Bull is playing the game with them. He thinks its a game, like it used to be." He muttered, almost astonded. "They think they're being brutal and smart, trying to kill him but he knows their every move. And now I know he knows and if I tell the other Taras, he'll know and probably have my head cut off. But if I don't and follow through with what I'm being paid to do, Randal will undoubtedly find a way to put me at the bottom of the bay just so I won't be a lose end."
Jonas stood another moment, "Hung if I do, hung if I don't... hung many different ways by many different people." He looked down at the glass in his hand, then to teh street curb where he realized that there were two police cars pulled up next to the manor. His shoulders slumped and he let out a long sigh.
"I'm going need to fill this up." He muttered and then he went inside. "Probably twice."

2009-09-16T10:30:00.000-07:00

I actually have something to post here today! I don't think I'll have another something to post by the end of the month, but at long last I am done chapter 3's first draft. Woot! Not much more to say. Spent the last weekend in Calgary statisfying my wife's dire need for horse things. The Master's show jumping tournament ran all weekend, so we went to that. The whole time I was there I was writing this blog entry in my head, but I think I'll stay my hand. I will say this though; the riders and their horses make what they do look effortless. And there in lies the rub. To an uneducated man, one outside the realm of horsecraft, the necessary details are lost. Most don't know the difference between a lead change, the proper amount of paces between jumps or the benifits of a bitless versus a bitful bridal. The decades of work some of these athletes have put in to be the best in the world are so a part of how they preform that they are invisible to the untrained eye. Similar to golf, bowling or darts, the prize is given to the most consistant participant. The perfect round they strive for is, arguably, the most unremarkable round to watch. At least in bowling you get to watch the pins crash.

That's my rant on that :) Next year I think I'm going to the ZOO! Cause, you know, monkeys.

Chapter three, as promised. I didn't even do my normal edit of this fellow, so we'll see how that goes. The next installment, I suspect, will be at least two weeks hence, thus breaking my goal of two per month. We shall see, as I have the chapter formed in my mind, it just needs to be exhaled. Enjoy, till we meet again!

Chapter three

"I find it opputune at this time to point out that I said we would both handle this situation when I returned. I beleive I put emphasis on the when I returned part." Jonas said angrily, "Imagine my surprise when I see you through the window of a premier cafe wrestling that brute by yourself. Exactly what part of my request did you think that I meant for you to come and handle the job by yourself?"
"When they called back and doubled their offer." Paddy said.
"Oh, well then, job to be done." Jonas said, his mind suddenly filling up with possibilities to spend their new found wealth. They only needed to catch a 30 ton monster withough hurting it.
The two of them were hunched behind the wreckage of a produce cart while the escaped creature was running happily amok in Tacturn square some three blocks south of Cafe L'Oriet. Jonas had collected Paddy from broken counter that stopped her flight and the two of them had chased the creature as far as the square which, up until the hungry tortoise had arrived, had been in the middle of a lively farmers market. Now the market had turned into something of a buffet and the monster was munching happily on a wagon heaped tall with cabbage having already depleted a similar wagon full of patatoes. A few of the more valiant and fool hardy city watch were attempting to bring the monster down with small arms fire and a slightly more creative watchman was hurridly requesting heavy backup. If the heavies were dropped in, Mynfield Investigators could kiss their commission good bye. Jonas tapped his chin, deep in thought.
"Its a red tortoise, they live mainly in lava fields. They love the heat, their bodies are built to withstand all kinds of heat and pressure. It actually makes the perfect digger, which is probably what Juris labs was commissioned for."
"What does that mean?" Paddy asked impatiently.
"It means to stop it we'll need to get it cold or wet, or both." Jonas said. He tapped the gun that Paddy was carrying, a heavy looking cannon with a glowing blue sphere near the business end. "Whats that do?"
"Super heated plasma..."
"Right, won't even make a scratch on that fellow. It'll do about as much as those idiots out there with their carbines." Jonas said, "we need a way to lure it closer to the bay. Do you have a way to contact Juris?"
"They gave me a line..."
"Ok good, good. Give that here. Good, good" Jonas said, head bent and quickly thinking. "What I need you to do is head over to the front of the alley and shoot that thing."
"I thought you said it would be resistant to this weapon?"
"Oh it is, you'd do more damage if you threw it at it." Jonas said, "it'll heat it up though, and maybe, just maybe, we can use the charge to lure it away. Maybe to somewhere less populated."
"You have a plan?"
"Of sorts." Jonas waved his hands, "if it follows, head for the bay. I'll tell Juris to meet us there. Assuming they have something that can transport that monster. Honestly, if you're going to make a super creature thats incredibly reistant to damage AND heat, you better make sure you have a way to catch it if it runs away. We are NOT equiped to handle this kind of thing!"
"If it doesn't follow?" Paddy said skeptically.
"Well then I am open for suggestions!" Jonas said, "given that you have already accepted the job, I would be loathe to back out on it now. Working with royals is like dancing with an elephant; it leads, and you better follow else you're losing a foot."
"The Paloscia family will take more than a foot."
"Precisely why this must work, scuttle along now, I've got a call to make."
Paddy growled then hefted her gun and loped off into out of view. Jonas sighed, took a deep breath and activated teh direct line to Juris labs.
"Hello, this is Jonas Mynfield of Mynfield Investigations." Jonas said brightly. There was a stream of demanding and angry words from the other end and Jonas reacted by moving the ear piece away until they had subsided. Hesitantly he put the ear piece back within hearing range and continued. Victory favored the bold, so they said.
"Right right, I understand you have a rather large... er, project that has disappeared from your labs. Yes, yes... right. I also understand that you may have understated the size of said project when you were speaking with my associate. No, I'm not being difficult, I am trying to clarify. No, I am also not being coy. Yes this is a business call." Jonas rubbed his forehead with a hand. "What I would like to know is if, in fact, you are able to transport your project. Right of course you can. But you can't capture it yourself? No I thought not... Right."
From out in the square there was a loud whine followed by the sounds of city watchmen yelling and diving for cover. Jonas didn't quite close his eyes soon enough as the square was lit up like the surface of a star for a brief second, and had to blink away the spots that resulted. There was a loud rumbling and what Jonas hoped was a happy roar. The cobblestones under him shook as teh creature lumbered off in teh direction that Paddy had been told to head. Jonas breathed a little sigh of relief. He turned his thoughts back to the nattering voice on teh other end of the line.
"Yes, ok, I understand. Now you need to listen to me, we are working ahead of the city watch and hope to have the creature in a transportable position before heavy reinforcements arive to deal with it." Jonas had to stop for more nattering.
"Yes the army has been called, it is the only way the watch has of dealing with a threat of this size. We are currently working ahead of them, and will continue to do so. What we need from you is to be ready to collect your project near the bay. A large boat or drigible would probably be best. Do you understand? Good. We will see you presently."
Jonas stood, brushed the dust of his pants and storlled over to help up a watchman who happened to be a Serian woman, large with red skin and think black hair.
"Are you alright miss?"
"I be ok. Thank you." she grunted, accepting his hand. Jonas had to brace himself to help her back up onto her hippo like feet, holding teh wide palm in both hands. Her comrades were shouting things and trying to find their guns, even though they'd proved ineffective so far.
"Seems quite teh ruckus, has the army been called?" Jonas asked inocently, bending to retrieve a lost belt as the Serian checked teh actions on her gun.
"Ja, we call them quick." She said, "they sending a mystical response team, be here soon. You not worry. Thank you again." She accepted the belt and looped it around her wide waist.
"Goodness, its that big a problem? I hope they do get here soon." Jonas said, smiling big and plucking at his pocket hankerchief. "I have a meeting soon in this quarter."
"They give time, five minutes. No worry, we take care of it." The watch-woman tried patting Jonas' hand sympathetically, but ended up leaving a bruise. Her unit was running off and she followed the path of destruction down what was once a sleepy little street. Jonas waited until they had turned the corner and sprinted off at an opposing angle. The beauty of knowing where something was going to be is that you'll likely get there first. Paddy was making her winding way with the monster in tow down the widest streets she could find, Jonas had no such restictions and vaulted back yard fences to race down blind alleys. By the time he reached teh bay, he was a good five minutes ahead of Paddy and her monster. He could still hear the whining of her gun, and see the bright white light over teh roof tops, but they were still blocks away. He slouched down and caught his breath a moment before looking out and down to teh water, trying to find something that would serve his purposes. There was quite alot to sort through.
Where Jonas now stood was a merchant district full of markets and people of all nationalities and colors. What functioned as the docks doubled as an airship port as well, the actual water of the bay being some three or four levels down from street level with several layers of berths in between. All manner of craft were now docked there, from Mayon flying beasts perched on roosts to dull grey Ka' submersibles bobbing darkly down below. The wide open avenue between the docks and the city line was filled with men and women, some plying their craft as merchants, labourers, artisans prefromers and beggars. Still more were there on business, buying and selling merchandise from their ships, from carts from the backs of pack animals and mechanicals. As exciting and busy as it was, it was about to get more so. Jonas glanced to teh skyline of buildings that rose up behind teh bay, spied teh tell tale cloud of dust and debris rising up into the air and cupped his hands to his mouth.
"Attention, attention!" He yelled as loudly as he could. No one paid him any mind. Grumbling Jonas pulled a small cylinder out a hidden belt pocket and pressed one end to his throat.
"Attention everyone who can hear this!" His voice now boomed, drowning out the cries of the loudest hawkers. All eyes turned to see what the noise was and a large number of those eyes came to rest on Jonas. Jonas tucked the cylinder back in his pocket and jumped up onto the back of a truck that was mostly sold out of Ginish Greens.
"Thank you. There is a large and dangerous animal coming this way. It should be here any minute. I am not with teh watch, I only want to make sure that no one gets hurt while we attempt to restrain it." Jonas said as clearly as he could. "We are planning to drop it into the bay, off this empty berth. If anyone has ships beneath this area, they would be very wise to move them."
The immediant time following his space was quickly filled up with laughter and jeers.
"He musta lost a pig and 'e's scared someone will catch it before him!"
"No worries little fancy man, we'll catch your creature, it won't be too big for us." Three burly Natac Roughers standing nearly double Jonas' wiry height laughed.
"He's drunk! Or high on some other substance." A lady dressed in black decalred, waving a book fluttering with ribbons, "this is the path of folly! See him! The path of temperance is one of clear head!"
"Oi, maybe you can tell us where you found your folly, I've got a craving for folly!"
Jonas shook his head and hopped down from the truck box, "I tried, heavens help me I tried." He muttered. Louder he called out, "fine don't beleive me, beleive it." He pointed to the wide alley where Paddy was running out of, screaming people streaming away from her like the advance waves of a flood. The monster's head soon appeared, dripping whole cabbage from it's mouth and was soon followed by it's massive shell. It gave another roar and the the crowd that had surrounded Jonas broke into a cheering section that suddenly was betting on the survival of the monster versus the survival of the immediant area. Arconis was like that.
"Excuse me," Jonas asked one sailor, "what are the odds on me winning?"
The grizzled looking man squinted hard, "yer one of those adventuring types aren't cha? Are you with that scaly girly with the scary gun?"
Jonas sniffed, "as it so happens I am."
"I'll give you five to one in the monster's favor." The old man said after a moment of beard scratching, "seems fair seeing as you've got a fair amount of competition now."
"Competition...? Oh, hmm, I was wondering when they would show up." Jonas muttered, following the grizzled man's nod. "Their response time is getting better. A hundred on me then."
Jonas took off running towards where a small airship marked with Arconis City Watch crest with the words 'Special Response Team' was setting down onto stone of the docks. A great barrel chested man with short legs and a crisp blue uniform stepped woodenly out of the airship first and was followed by scurrying men and women in full tactical gear, crouched low and guns held out at the ready. Two more men and a woman emerged slower, each wearing a blue smock in the design of the watch's mystic division. Two of them Jonas didn't recognize, but the young blue man with the crooked nose he knew as Jamison Nook, a foul tempered man with a quick temper. The large man in front was none other than Chief Ronald Fairweather, a general that had refused to retire and so had taken up the position of Arconis city chief where he preformed mundane tasks with maximum force. Jonas had worked with him before; he was an animable old soldier. Fairweather spied Jonas in the crowd and waved him over with a hand the size of a scoop shovel.
"Ah, young Mynfield, here for the sport I see? I thought that was Paddy out there running around," Fairweather said in a booming voice. He held his hands behind his back and surveyed the square with a very critical eye, looking lastly on teh monster that was still plodding as fast as it could after Paddy as she threw shots of blue fire against it, the glare not even causing the old general to blink. "Looks to see that your Paddy is not doing such a bang up job, that weapon of her's is ineffective. You best step aside and let the watch handle this from now on."
"No sport, on the job, as it were. Just trying to draw the monster out of the city to where it wouldn't do so much damage Sir. We weren't trying to hurt it." Jonas said, "it likes heat, you see. Pady shooting it got her to follow her here."
"Heat eh? Well we'll give it plenty of that!" Fairweather chuckled, "now you watchmen, hop to! get those people back! You three, Jamison, Cawl, Nord, do whatever preparations you need to get rid of our friend there."
"Er, get rid of Sir?" Jonas asked carefully. His pocket where he'd stored the direct line was buzzing.
"Definately. Can't have a beast of that size running amok." The Chief said, hands still behind his back. Then he finally lowered his gaze and stared intently at Jonas. "Your job today isn't to capture that thing, is it? Highly inadvisable my boy, you'd be interfering with the Watch's business. And nobody interferes with the Watch's business while I'm watching over it."
"No, no of course not." Jonas said quickly, smiling broadly. "If you need anything from us Chief...?"
"We've got everything well in hand. Jamison there will cook that thing right in the shell with teh help of his two people. You can tell Paddy to quit running around like that. Best to just take a seat over there behind teh line and watch the show. Should be a bloody good one. Had roast turtle back in Neesee. Lads were starving for some meat and so they caught this turtle, cooked it up in a soup." Fairweather smacked his lips, "should think this one would taste well with a red Brazle Ale, eh Mynfield?"
"I fancy a clear Snaphle myself, but to each their own." Jonas bowed his head, "if you should need us..."
"We won't. Much appreciation for your assistance thus far," Fairweather said briskly, "if I had a medal on me I'd give you one."
"Right... right. Best of luck!" Jonas scurried away, grabbing the direct line from his pocket as he did so.
"Hello, who is this? Right, of course it's you... of course. Right. You're here? I don't see... ok, on the water? A boat? Great! How long? That's.. well there's a complication that has arisen such that I can not, in good coincience, given a time estimate." The voice ont eh other end started talking very loud and very fast. It was not happy. Jonas drummed his fingers on his chin, walking fast to the low wall that kept people from falling to their deaths below and scanned the water line. There! They'd even flown the Juris labs flag on three points of the broad hulled ship. There was a net and crane appuratus near the back that Jonas thought should suffice, granted they could get the monster down there before the Watch decided to call in heavier guns than the Mystics could muster. Jamison could summon all teh fires of the stars and Jonas doubted the tortois would be phased by it. As soon as Fairweather found that, he would have no qualms with calling in an air strike. Best to move fast, teh mystics had already started their chants, it wouldn't be long now before things would be heating up and Jonas couldn't do what needed to be done if he was talking to someone like this.
"That is an excellent point and I shall take it to heart! No, I am never sacastic, I am always scincere, but I shall have to work on that I suppose." Jonas said brightly, cutting off the stream of words coming to him from the ship below, "tell your captain to get ready, there's about to be a large splash!" Jonas cut off the call and slipped the phone back into his pelt pocket.
"I just have to figure out how..." Jonas muttered to himself. He caught Paddy's eye as quickly as he could and pointed over to where the Watchmen mystics were standing chanting in their small circle. She growled, fired one last shot for good measure, stunning the bystanders and then ran to where Jonas was waving.
"What now? I got it to the docks." She said, breathing hard.
"Right, well I wasn't counting on candlewick and the matchstick brigade over there..." Jonas rubbed his temples. "Think Mynfield, think! There has to be something else, something we can use... The red tortois lives in lava fields, and migrates with the warm winds, following the flow. They mate for life and generally lay a clutch of six to eight eggs once every ten years. they have an extremely long life time, over two hundred years. They come out of the lava fields to feed on vegetation but gain most of their nutrients by absorbing minerals from the lava in which they live. They... wait! that's it!" Jonas smacked his head and looked around fast, finding what he wanted in the form of a massive dock crane dangling a magnet. "The minerals in it's blood stream will make it magnetic! If we do it right..."
"Whatever you are doing, it should be fast. Look." Paddy pointed to the three huddled figures a geyser of fire was crawling up toward the sky and, as the two watched, it turned white hot and arced its way across the sky to strike the tortoise in the middle of it's shell. Jonas groaned.
"The hotter that fire makes mr tortoise there, the faster he's going to get. Heat jump starts his metabolism."
"You mean you had me firing at him, knowing that?" Paddy asked.
Jonas shrugged, "you're very fast and the amount of heat that boom stick can give that monster is very isolated. I doubt an increase over fifteen percent would be expected."
"It would have been good information to know." Paddy growled, "it almost caught me several times."
"Occupational hazard, now." Jonas tapped the gun in Paddy's hand. "We have got to get that thing nearer the crane, and he's not paying any attention to us right now. He won't pay attention to that thing now either. Why walk by the light of a star when there's a sun to use, right? Right. The mystics have pumped enough heat into that thing to last it for days and our employers are waiting."
Paddy nodded, "Operate the crane, leave the tortoise to me."
"How are you... ?"
"For once, don't think about it." Paddy said grimly, "it is not a solution you would have entertained. it is not smart. Be fast, it will be near the crane soon."
Paddy sprinted of again, towards the direction of the tortoise, leaving Jonas momentarily stunned. Whatever crazy stunt was being planned and put into motion, Jonas could only play his prescribed part and hope it was enough to reap whatever reward might come. He ran for the crane and breathed a sigh of relief when teh controls were not occupied. After a quick glance, he started the engine and brought the boom around. A few more testing pulls on the levers brought power to the magnet and lowered it. From his perch at the controls Jonas could look down to the water below where the Juris boat was bobbing slowly. Out in the square the monster was still being doused with fire, but Jonas could swear there was a tiny grin on it's massive mouth and that it was waving back and forth in content bliss. Paddy was advancing slowly towards teh flame engulfed turtle with what looked to be an abandoned power shovel gripped awkwardly in her hands.
"My word," Jonas muttered, "no, I wouldn't have considered that. I never consider suicide. Well, good luck girl."
As Paddy neared the blazing tortoise she raised the heavy shovel in over her head, triggered it's engine and threw it as hard as she could at the monster's head. The blow rang true and the shovel struck right where it was intended to strike, the softer tissue near the tortoise's eye and the shovel that was build to split solid rock dug in deep to the tortoise's flesh. A roar cascaded through the square as the tortoise felt it's first real pain and swung it's head heavily to see what had caused it's agony. It's one good eye came to rest on Paddy standing defiantly near teh creature, her clothes starting to smoke from the heat of the mystical blaze. She shouted something that was lost over the distance and started sprinting towards the crane. Fairweather was shouting too, and the mystics were wavering, their concentration breaking. The tortoise, however, had a very keen focus for it's attention and was now devoting all it's being to running very quickly after Paddy.
"You have to admire that, I suppose." Jonas muttered, bringing the cranes boom into position as a hundred tonnes of mutant tortoise bore down on his accomplice. Despite her best efforts to avoid being crushed, it looked as if she wouldn't make it much further. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to.
"Only got one try at this..." Jonas gritted his teeth and swung the crane boom a quarter turn before quickly flicking it back like a fisherman's pole, the heavy magnet casting out in front and striking the turtle across the side. The magnet stuck fast, but the raging fire was quickly turning the chain attached to it cherry red.
"better be quick, and over the side you." Jonas flicked the controls back as fast as he could, not even giving the creature enough time to slow down from it's charge. Redirected, the tortoise's charge was now pointing right over the edge and before it realized what was going on it had crashed through the containing wall and flipped over snapping the crane's chain before falling to eh water below. There was a gyser of steam and water that reached the specators still crowding around the square and th distinct smell of fish stew. Jonas striaghtened his collar and jumped off the crane. His pocket buzzed.
"Yes? Right, thats what I said we would do. It's your problem now, just wait until the water's cooled that fellow down enough, the colder he gets the slower he gets and then you can deal with him however you like. No, I'm not telling you how to do your job, I'm advising you. Call me helpful. I'm sorry you feel that way sir," Jonas said, "of course, yes, all damages you incurred can be deducted from our bill of service which will, incidently, be mailed out tomorrow. Yes, yes. Do as you may. Good day!" Jonas closed the line and threw it over the side of the bay wall, making it follow the same route as the tortoise moments ago. he hopped off the crane and started off through the crane. Paddy joined him.
"That went well." she was still breathing hard from outrunning the tortoise.
"As well as it could I suppose, our employer is still not pleased, of course I do not think they will ever be truly pleased. Apparently the monster clipped the side of their boat as it fell, damaging it."
"Tell him that is the least of the damages." Paddy cracked a rare smile and pointed out over the square, "the chief will not be pleased."
"Oh he'll be ok. All's fair in love and war, he'll say after he s finished fining us and yelling at us." Jonas sniffed, "in the end it will be lucky if we turn a profit." He was now elbowing his way throught he crowd. He could hear Watchmen behind him yelling, but he doubted they would make it through. Arconis crowds respected entertainers more than lawmen and were leting Jonas and Paddy through much more readily, with a few pats on the back even. Absently Jonas pulled the box that he'd recieved earlier from his belt pocket and handed it to Paddy.
"What's this?"
"Half payment from the Taras family for our next job. it is six bars of precious Adol alloy worth about half a million." Jonas said, rubbing his jaw in thought. Paddy's eyes went wide.
"That's more money than I have ever dreamed of."
"Precisely," Jonas said, "which is why I do not think the Taras plan on us keeping it. I beleive they plan on killing us both once the job is complete and taking back thier bars. I want you to take this back to the office and put it into the safe, for now."
"And where are you going?"
"To find a sailor about a bet I just won."

2009-09-03T08:26:00.000-07:00

Potential Rant <- (play on words haha, there WILL be a rant)

I've always liked potential. A day with nothing planned might see anything happen, a talk with a stranger could become a long lasting friendship, taking a different route to work might show you a pleasant surprise. The trailers at the beginning of the movie are often better than the movie itself. Things like that. These are the things I love.

I guess that's why the Disney/ Marvel merger doesn't bother me in the accute, distressing ways voiced by some fans. Disney is not going to dominate Marvel like some back room leather clad woman. Marvel is a very, very powerful company valued at 4 billion US and they would not bend the knee unless they saw some very real potential to increase their profits and further their creative property. I'm optomistic.

The next post will have the next chapter of my Mynfield Mysteries. I'm pretty happy with how its coming along and suspect that I have enough creative material in my head for at least a novella. I looked it up, for the nebula awards a novella is classified as something under 40,000 words and a novel is usually over 40,000 words. NaNo, of course, says you need at least 50,000 words to get to a novel status. I'm going to shoot for 50,000 words and as of writing this, I have about 7500 words of content. Considering that this is about 3 chapters, I'll need about 15-17 more chapters to hit that magic 50,000 word mark. However it works out (wether a series of novellas or a series comprised of actual novels) I would like to pursue publishing with this story. With that in mind I'd like to hit my January 1st goal for having a draft one complete. It's doable, I've just never done it before.

Chapter three forthcoming, stay tuned!

John, the Writer.

2009-08-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

Those Summer days that are so fleet, those summer days that taste so sweet
Succumb in time to Winter's grace, whose fair, pale arms will embrace
Between the two we may find peace, and choose to linger in Autumn's streets.

Had lunch in the park, doodled that poem when I got back to work. A fair assesment of life in that particular moment.

Ok so this is rare, two blog posts in one month. Hopefully more to come next month as well. if I settle into an erratic twice a month schedule, then that might be ok. Thats two chapters of this current story a month... well we'll see :) Those drawing guys have it way easier. They can burp out a doodle in twenty minutes thats pretty rough but still works where as a writer's rough stuff is sometimes so incoherent that its really worth nothing. *sigh* Anyway, I think I got the second chapter kind of the way I want it. I cut a bunch of conversational stuff, so later I'll probably edit more information etc into it. Third part is easier since its alot of actiony things happening, and those tend to go quicker than plot heavy dialogue.

Other than that, I'm starting to give some thought to Nano this year. I made the word count last year even with starting over in the middle of the month. A couple 4000+ word days and I was back on track. That leads me to believe that I can hit the word count pretty easily, so this year my goal is to have something I'm relatively happy with at the end of it all. You know, a fairly complete story. With that in mind, here's my game plan.

I'll be writing on the same story as last year, basically. I say basically because I know know alot of what I did wrong in the first stab at it. For the scale of the story I had envisioned the story didn't move slowly enough and it moved in too many places. THis would be fine with an established arc, but not with a new idea. With that in mind, most of the first book will deal with people in one place and more or less deal with the same people. Last time I dealt with Palin in one part, Sabastian in another and Telin in another and so on. It was too many main characters. I'm focusing almost entirely on Matheus this time, and all the events that surround the summit where he's trying to form an alliance between pirate nations and the Arc to fortify the outworlds of Arc against the Harvest Duke who is growing more and more powerful. More info on that later :)

No more news for now. I'll post some comic related things when/if they happen.

for now enjoy part two of what I'm calling the Steampunk Mystery.

Chapter two

Jonas picked at the plate of delicacies that had been ordered for him, selecting a morsel and chewing it slowly while he thought. The mood of Cafe L'Oreit was set by a soft and subtle blend of pipes and strings, currently one of Mokette's earlier sonnets, low lighting and the smells of a thousand wonderful dishes. The food was excellent, and the the cool interior of the place was a blessing after the heat of the streets below. He sat across from Samantha Taras at the Taras' private table, in full view of the splendor of her beauty. Her dark hair cascaded in ringlets to her bare shoulders, her smile was angelic and a man could lose himself for hours in the color of those perfect eyes. Jealous Goddesses had turned women into pigs for being less lovely, Jonas was sure, or perhaps this was the goddess come down to amuse herself among the mortals. There certainly seemed to be a some divine joke at work; Samantha Taras had not come alone. Jonas cleared his throat subtly and dared to speak.
"I must be honest, when I received your, er... letter of invite, this is not the lunch I expected."
Samantha Taras smiled brightly, holding a soup spoon delicately in one gloved hand. "Why Mr Mynfield, whatever did you expect?"
From her right hand Samantha's Stoic brother raised an eyebrow, "yes Mr. Mynfield, humor us, what did you expect?"
If Jonas had been wishing for a private affair, perhaps some candles and a nice wine, he had been terribly mistaken. Samantha had come, as the note had indicated she would, but with her she had brought her brother, a family Stewart who looked like he might have been a pirate in a former life, and six body guards all bearing the Tara's family crest. Jonas had no doubt that they were instructed to kill anyone who laid a hand on their young charge; whether it was a wanted hand or not. This perfect lunch date was turning into something much less perfect and no where near a date. For someone like Jonas who danced very lightly ont he edge of teh great powers, this was down right dangerous.
"I didn't expect it to be so formal." Jonas said quickly. "I might have taken the time to put on my good coat, if I'd have known."
"Hmm, yes. Your good coat." Randal Taras said blandly, cutting deep into the meat on his plate. "I wouldn't worry, I doubt we'd have noticed the improvement."
Jonas opened his mouth to remark, but instead wisely bit into a slice of roast quail. This was their territory, they were at the advantage and and if insults were all Jonas had to stomach, he could consider himself lucky. Randal Taras wanted something, that was evident, and if the man had used his sister's invite as a ruse for this meeting instead of calling using the red phone for an official request, then it was something he wanted to keep quiet. Royal matters that were to be hushed up were expensive and delicate matters and for that reason Jonas was glad that Paddy had stayed home. She was not very respectful when it came to dealing with royals.
"Don't worry Mr Mynfield, this, sadly, isn't a social call; we'll not judge you on the cut of your coat, however shabby it is." Samantha said brightly, sipping her soup with grace, "we're here on business!" She nodded in what she must have thought was a grave manner, but came off looking like a five year old trying to be serious while her puppy is licking at her knees. Samantha giggled. "You did come very highly recommended. Having been, what's that quaint expression, 'around the street'?"
"Around the block, dear sister." Randal corrected, leaning back a little as an attractive waitress set a basket of bread down to the side of his plate. Randal hardly noticed her.
Randal Taras had been appointed to the seat of Herring Town magistrate at the tender age of twenty two and had used the last five years to secure his power through clever politics and ruthless domination of any opposition. He wore the black sleeveless tunic of his office and a solid gold chain, no doubt of mystic origin. Like his sister his skin was a light brown tone and his hair was as black as pitch, cut close but still with a distinctive curl that no amount of barbering could erase. They might have been twins, but Jonas knew for a fact that Samantha was years younger than her brother. The two were as similar in appearance as they appeared to be different in every other way.
"It is true I seem to have acquired a very, ahh, diverse skill set that has rendered me useful to people such as yourself from time to time."
"A good thing too." Randal said, breaking bread with his hands, "this city has little need for more beggar nobility. Heaven knows how many fallen royals use their once good names to prey on the charity of those with better sense."
"Oh yes. I quite agree." Jonas muttered, "though even as a royal of repute I always found science and adventure more to my liking than politics and courting."
"And if the reports are true, you've had quite a number of adventures", Samantha said while the tables automatic brewer was busy refilling delicate cups and spinning them into place in front of all the patrons of the table. "Have you any stories to share with us?"
Her brother scoffed. "Come Samantha, such stories are beneath you. This man is little more than a commoner, his claim to royalty is a stretch, at best. I daresay any stories he has would not be fit for a lady's ears and he's not the kind of gentleman that censors his words." Randal's mouth curled in a sneer, "I've heard of some of your adventures. Damsels in distress; distressing damsels more like."
"Oh Randal, you're no fun. Always at work, never taking time for any play." Samantha pouted, "we have a seasoned glory seeker at our table and you have no want to hear, first hand, some recount of his travels?" The pout turned to a hungry smile, "besides, sometimes I just hunger for something that isn't censored. Life can be so..."
"Wonderful? Pampered? Beautiful?" Jonas offered.
"Boring." Samantha said. "I'm never allowed to have the kind of fun I read about in books."
"Those books, dear sister, are partly the reason why these wild fancies of yours have taken root." Randal said, "and those stories aren't true. Even real adventures aren't glamorous, they're full of hardship and pain. Isn't that so Mr Mynfield?" There was an edge to his voice that said he would not be disagreed with.
"Very true, actually. Danger and whatnot. Why, any number of times I can remember thinking that a nice book by a fire would be the way to go instead of slogging through some swamp in the pouring rain, or traversing sewers tracking some slime beast or being chased by cannibals through bug infested jungles just because you've managed to steal their tribal idol." Jonas said, plumb sauce from his mouth with his napkin. The sauce must have been sticky as as soon as Jonas put his elbow in it, the napkin stuck fast.
"Swamps?"
"Oh yes, adventure is often a messy business." Jonas nodded, glancing at Randal for approval. The man's face was expressionless. Jonas forged on. "And the people you meet. If I don't ever have to see another bush pilot of questionable hygiene again, I'll count myself very lucky."
"I think those are just the sort of people I'd like to meet." Samantha declared. "swamps dirt and all."
Jonas raised an eyebrow at the ravishing young woman with her pristine dress, perfect skin and impecable table manners. It was hard to envision her outside in the street, let alone tramping through some gods forsaken land swatting bugs and breaking nails. Whatever books she read, they probably had pictures of shirtless men holding tight to princesses while firing rounds into incoming hoards of necromatic soldiers. The man would always defeat his aggressor and the the woman would think him an awful sort until, perhaps, the fourth time he saved her life and then about the moment she caught him playing kick the cube with street orphans, she would realize she'd fallen madly in love with him. Samantha Taras lived in a very, very small world.
Randal finished the last piece of his roast and grunted, "since you insisted on coming today, you may well get your wish. We'll see how well you like your scoundrels and dirt when you see them close at hand. Mr Mynfield, if you're finished your quail, may we get down to business?"
"I'd like nothing better." Jonas said. He was rubbing his elbow against the table cloth gently, trying to dislodge the napkin, but to no avail. He ended up lowering his arm under the table, but kept his other hand firmly on his tea cup.
"Good." Randal said flatly, gesturing to his Stewart. The Stewart opened a black case and produced a sheaf of papers from it, passing them along to his master's hand. Randal flipped through them slowly, selected a few and slid them across the table. When Jonas reached for them, Randal kept his hand firmly in place, pinning them down for a moment. Their eyes met.
"This is strictly confidential. I'd like to keep things very discreet. If you breath a word of this to anyone, you shall find that my arms can reach you almost anywhere."
"I am a professional." Jonas said, "I shall keep your words close to my heart." With a smart tug, Jonas took the papers and quickly scanned through them.
The papers were mostly photographs of a device with a few shorthand notes written over top. It was an oblong sphere, decorated with brass waves and terrifying sea creatures. The brass was tarnished, and obviously in the middle of being carefully cleaned by the white coated technicians that surrounded it. The artifact's surface was broken by a series of crystals and small windows. Since the picture was not printed in color, Jonas could not tell exact details, however there was little doubt in his mind of what it was.
"This is a Von Eskhieser, isn't it?" Jonas asked without looking up from the photos. He flipped to the next page, the graphic showed the device from a different perspective.
"We suspect it is." Randal said grudgingly, "and if the tests the University preformed are correct, it may be the oldest device of his yet unearthed."
"The University hmm?" Jonas said, "you're storing it there?"
"No. It is still on site. We dare not move it until its full function can be discerned." Randal tapped his nose, "there have been other attempts to tamper with Von Eskhiesser's devices, most of those have ended... unfavorably."
"To say the very least, yes." Jonas muttered.
"At any rate the professors I've hired are at a loss and you have much experience with such devices, or so I'm told."
"More than I'd like, to be honest." Jonas pursed his lips. The last photograph in the set displayed the back plate where a simple engraving was etched in what might have been crystal. The engraving was of Mycalychin, a trickster figure in the folklore that Von Eskhieser had weaved into his science.
"Splendid! Then you will accompany us to the site and help us! It will be our adventure, and you shall be the chief of it." Samantha said, her eyes shining.
"Help you what?"
"Make it work." Randal said, "it's for our father. He is a collector of these devices and his sixty-fifth birthday approaches. We would make a present of this Von Eskhieser to him. When we can make it work, and understand its workings, we'll be able to move it."
"You realize this could be very dangerous work? Von Eskhieser pieces have been known to collapse time, turn flesh into lead, that sort of thing." Jonas said.
"I'm well aware of that. You payment will be proportionate, I assure you." Randal snapped his fingers and the Stewart drew a small box from the same case as he had produced the pictures. Samantha took it before Randal could and pressed her lips to it gently before passing it onwards to Jonas.
"For good luck." She said with a smile. "And our coming adventure!"
"Consider this a downpayment, to help make up your mind." Randal said.
Jonas took the box, opened it briefly. His eyes widened and he closed the lid very carefully again before staring out the window intently.
"You agree then?"
"Hmm oh yes. very agreed. I don't think I could afford to refuse to work with a Von Eskhieser artifact, or refuse the Taras family for that matter." Jonas said quickly, rising to his feet and striaghtening his jacket. The napkin finally fell from his coat and fell to the floor. "Now if you'll excuse me...?"
"Excuse you? Why, Mr Mynfield, we haven't had desert yet and the pastry chef here does an apple crumble that is simply devine." Samantha said, "you must stay."
"I do apologize for having to deny the request of such a beatuiful girl." Randal growled at that, but Jonas forged on, "but I must. It seems my time is demanded very ... ah, urgently elsewhere."
"What demand is so urgent that it risks insulting us?" Randal asked tartly.
"Er, that will become evident in a moment, I'm afraid," Jonas said, buttoning up his jacket and pulling a small thin cylinder from his pocket. "You see this morning my associate received a call on what I've called our red phone. It's red you see, and a private number for royal use only. It was a request for help from Jurrik Labs, they needed something returned. I told my companion not to fret, that we would handle it when I returned with this meeting. Based on what I'm seeing outside the window, I must assume that Jurrik Labs called back and were much, much more demanding the second time."
The cafe shuddered a little from a tremor, shaking the glassware gently agaisnt each other causing a pleasnt ringing. The patrons, usually so absorbed in their own petty conversation, all suddenly looked up to see what the disturbance was. The Tara's family all reached forward to steady their glasses while the bodyguards reached for weapons, looking around for any immediante threat. Jonas, unphased, continued.
"My companion is very strong willed. I think she must have agreed to help without bothering to inform me. This is the only reason I can think of that she is currently hanging onto the neck of what appears to be a Red Tortiose cross bred with a giant Baverian mole that is rampaging through the street outside. Although I would much rather not help her, I think she will be flying through the glass of the window directly behind you in about thirty seconds. I don't think it can be avoided." Jonas paused, "err... you should all probably move."
The tremors were now regular and in true Kinnel city fashion, the patrons of the cafe joined those in the lesser buildings next to it and ran to the windows to see what was happening. They were greeted with the sight of Paddy hanging tight to a rope and net that was wrapped tightly around a horn on the creature's shell. Obviously Jurrik Labs had been unspecific as to the size of the creature, else Paddy would have brought a bigger net.
The monster looked to be more tortoise than mole, with a hard beak and red shaded shell, spined with hard looking spikes. The paws were bow legged with monstrous claws made for spooning dirt out aside. Right now those claws were doing an excellent job of pushing aside street cars, vendor carts and the footings of various local business. With a final heave and buck, the monster sent Paddy whipping around on the end of her rope with enough force to break her grip on it and send her flying through a window five paces to the right of where Jonas had predicted. The patrons of the cafe panicked while the hostess tried clapping her hands briskly to get everyone to remain calm because, it had always worked before. Jonas donned his hat and tucked the box securely under his arm.
"I must be off, we'll be in contact to arrange details later. I might try the back stair for your exit from here." Jonas said tipping his hat, "farewell."
"Good bye brave adventurer," Samantha stood and held a hand to her heart, a move mimicked from watching a thousand actresses bid farewell to a thousand heroes. "Be careful."
Jonas grimaced before running off towards where Paddy had landed and the very large hole that . Be careful. As if a woman's wish could protect him from being crushed under foot a giant mutant turtle. It was women that were the problem, most of the time. In this case a very specific woman by the name of Padilla Nimmers-Sach. There would be a very stern talk with Paddy on their return to the office, a very stern talk indeed, providing they both survived the next few minutes.

2009-08-05T13:41:00.000-07:00

Last of Summer's days!

So for the first time in... well ever, I actually had a summer vacation. You have to understand that growing up on a farm, summer is actually more work than the rest of the year starting with seeding in the spring, haying and harvest with spraying and everything else in the middle. The idea of taking time off in the summer is almost completely foriegn to me. So here I am after the fact, and I can say that I enjoyed two weeks of camping with friends and inlaws.

Couple things to report. Josh Alves(of Araknid Kid Fame) and I are planning, nay, plotting a Zuda entry. The plot will be Mirror Mirror and the art thus far has been awesome. Working with Josh via web video conference has been one of the highlights of my year so far. I'll post more news as progress... progresses.

Over my vacation I've found that I had more time to write, which is kinda weird as we were camping. Since Mirror Mirror is getting my patended 'scripting' treatment, I won't be posting any more of the novel here. Suffice it to say that if a novel form of this story does surface, it will have been changed by the process of comic conversion. That leads me to a different project I started up thats just, well, fun. It's inspired by Girl Genius and fans of that series will hopefully see the simularities. If anyone is wondering, I'm modeling Jonas after The Doctor. Here's the starting Chapters to what I'm calling "SteamPunk Mysteries". Its a project that I've wanted to start / make for a while now and will likely be a series of Novellas.

Err.. a short Writers NOTE when reading; when I started this story my only inspiring thought was 'Steampunk PI' Through the course of writing the first two chapters, the story has solidified quite a bit. This means that the first chapter is less realized than the second chapter. What this means is this is a first draft. Comment gently and don't worry if you're too confused. The next verion will be clarified and extended. Heres Chapter one. I'll post Chapter two after the phase one editing. Please enjoy!

The air crackled with pent up energy, blue sparks arcing from conductor to conductor. Jonas Mynfield stood over a bench of bubbling glass work tubes and flickering dials, heavy black gloved hands po'sed over panels of switches and toggles. His goggled eyes watched the dials that, to the casual observer, were spinning madly and without restraint. The gurgling of the beakers was drowned by the hum of electricity through thick cables, here and there sparking where the cables had been nicked. The entire confusion of wiring came from different places in the room; from the walls, power boxes on the floor or other strange equipment but in the end through splices and joins they all made their way to a table stood up on it's side where the frame of a metal man was strapped.
"Just a little more... ah, whats this?" Jonas spun his gaze over to a slot was spitting out reams of paper where a pencil on an arm was scribbling madly. "Oh! Oh.. ho... hmmm."
Jonas snatched the paper out of the slot and read through the lines carefully.
"Oh... hmm I see, I see. Not today I guess, not today..." His shoulders slumped and he threw a row of toggle switches. The lights dimmed, the electricity stopped crackling and the angry liquid stopped its bubbling, slowing into a happier state.
"I told you didn't have the right combination lad, too much of that and you'll wear that battery of 'is right out." An older man with skin like pale leather hurmphed from a seat in the corner. He heaved himself to his feet and waddled his way over to where Jonas stood, two of his four arms using canes to hold himself up. "The mystical sciences are delicate. Its all about balances. Too much any one thing and you end up with nothing!"
"Bah, to victory goes the .. ah, well I hope victory goes to me, eventually." Jonas cracked a wide smile and pulled his lab apparatus off, discarding the paper ticker tape along with rubber gloves, bandanna and goggles on a nearby table already cluttered with tools, parts and an assortment of unidentifiable objects. "Time is what I need, and real parts to get this metal man up and on his feet!" Jonas slapped his hand down hard on the metal frame strapped into the table. "Parts means money, unless, perhaps Paddy will go see her friends hmmm... no, no I don't think she'd do that for me, not knowing it was for me anyway."
"You can't trick that girl, she's sly to your games." Carver said, picking up a diagram that was half crumpled and examining it, shaking his head, "you can't get her to shake down underside merchants for your little games."
"Hmm yes, maybe not. Oh! Oh ho!" Jonas took a pocket watch from his jacket pocket to consult before quick stepping to a mirror. He brushed back his brown hair so that it stuck flat to his head and curled up a bit at the back and replaced the lab coat with a proper brown suit jacket. He was a tall man, with very little excess about him. Jonas had been told he was a graceful dancer, but he liked to think he was graceful in life as well. "It seems I have lost track of time."
"Again." Carver said bluntly.
"And my presence is expected elsewhere. it would not due to keep a beautiful woman waiting." He smiled into the mirror and adjusted his collar's clasp. " A man of my upstanding reputation as a, er... well I have a reputation of being very upstanding."
"More like you have a reputation for standing people up!" Carver coughed into his hand.
"Never the less! I do try to be on time, it is not my fault that alot of the time situations arise that demand my attention!"
"I think if you had less things that demanded your time this little project of yours would be up and running around by now." Carver grumbled, "why back in my first years as a student the boys and me had a little dog that we set to do tricks at a girl's feet. That was an in, you see, they thought it was cute and broke the ice with us lads. Got us a B+ with the prof of Mystical Animation as well. Best you could do with this thing now is tie a chain to it and anchor down a boat! You really think you can take it to the field with you when it's done?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Jonas sniffed, plucking his handkerchief a little more out of jacket pocket until it sat there like a delicate rose, "There are many monstrous threats that we deal with from time to time and a mechanical man is just the ticket to help this agency combat them. This city needs defenders of the little man!" He punctuate with his finger, "Not just those who can afford to pay to be safe! And this agency is just the ticket for them! Top notch service for bargain prices!"
"Hrumph, no wonder you keep me on as tenant to help pay the rent." Carver said, making his way to a lift that sat in teh corner of the lab. "if I paid you lot more, do you think you could bring an old man up from the basement and give him a room with a view?"
Jonas finished with his reflection and joined Carver on the platform, "out of the question. The offices need to be ground level and open for all size of common man. Paddy 'requires' private rooms, it is part of her employee package and quite frankly I would be loath to lose her employment on such a simple thing as breach of contract."
"With all your comings and goings I wouldn't want shared quarters either." Carver coughed, "and I lived co-ed in the Thimble barracks years two through six. Those were good years, used to be in old Thimble that you couldn't turn around without staring a pretty lady in the face. Why there was a sisterhood of Qua'lee priestesses taking introduction to Tourism staying on campus that had tentacles halfway down their trunks!"
"Er, yes... I see."
"I tell you lad, four eyes are twice as good as two for staring into."
"Hmm well logically I suppose thats true..."
"And those Slven Forkil they wore."
"Hmm?"
"I'll tell you when you're older."
"Ahhh."
Carver sighed, "they don't grow them like that anymore, makes an old man reminisce, it does."
"Ah... hmm, indeed."
The lift bumped hard and then lowered swifly, both occupants swaying with the motion as they fell to the lower levels of the old housing complex that both called their home. The lab took up the top two stories, and could only be reached by the lift or, if one cared, the back stairwell that had been condemned by a building inspector two years ago. Jonas had not bothered to repair it. To the back of the building were two stories of windows, the private apartments of Padilla Nimmers-Sach and Jonas himself. To the front the space was open with several small partions to act as meeting rooms and offices. One even boasted a magical hush that distorted the air around it making those inside blurred and their words. Shelves along one wall housed tropheys from previous assignments; a large bucket shaped mechanical head, its red eyes lifeless, a vase from the Jordan Su collection, handkerchief's and tokens from dozens of damsels. Artifacts both technologically and magical filled teh shelves, even a small collection of shrunken heads that Jonas had won in a game of cards with a headhunter. Swords and glaives, pistols and rifles, the volume and selection was staggering. A sign announced the whole offices property of 'Mynfield Investigatory Services'. It was through the large open offices that the lift dropped, puttering white smoke while it's bottom glowed the healthy blue of gavity defying devices.
"Hey, boy!" A voice called out from one of the offices as the lift settled into it's main floor cradle. Jonas cringed and his collar popped out a little bit. Carver patted him on his shoulder, nodding with a sympathetic way that said 'well she's right mad at you, glad its you not me!' and hobbled off to the entrance of his basement suite. Jonas smoothed down his collar, put on a bright smile and turned to face his co-worker.
"My dear Paddy, you look well today! Did you polish your scales? No, wait, something with your spines?" Jonas said as cheerily as he could.
Padilla Nimmers-Sach was a tall woman, and looked even larger when she was angry. The dull green spines that ridged her head bristled and her eyes flashed red murder. It did indeed look as if she had shone the black scales that flecked the skin of her arms and ringed her flat stomach, but flattery did not earn anything with her. Jonas might have found her very attractive if she was not actually standing in front of him; Paddy's was the exotic beauty that one admires from the glossy pages of a magazine, not in a head to head confrontation.
"You will not leave this place, not yet! We have business to discuss, you and I. There was a call. A call on the red phone."
"A call? Oh I must have missed it, oh hmm. On the red phone? Royal red I always say, yes I must have missed it when I was... when I was..."
"Wasting time, yes you missed it. I took the call. They almost did not speak with me. You know how it is. They gave me a message for you. Our services are required."
"Required... yes of course, they never really ask, they always assume. It's their right I suppose. Er, details?"
"Something has gone missing. Something from a place called Jurrik Labs. They can not use their own assets, they deemed it a suitable task for us. They would like it handled quietly."
"Jurrik? Hmm Hmm Hmm, yes quietly?" Jonas tapped his chin, "the call must have come from the Paloscia family, they own all... well not all of Jurrik, but enough to be concerned by something that's gone missing. Or broke loose more like it, knowing that lab and some of it's lower levels."
"I'll be needing the big gun then?" Paddy said, a strange glint coming over her eye.
"Gun? What... oh! Haha, um, no." Jonas said patting her on the shoulder from what he hoped was out of arms reach. "You see I have a prior engagement and, though I'm sure this is a very critical job, I simply can not in good conscience put this meeting off."
"It is more important than a call from the red phone?"
"Much more so, yes."
"I will get my jacket."
"Err, you're going out too?" Jonas asked nervously. It was always a hassle trying to be delicate with Paddy. Any physical feat she executed with precision and finesse but her diplomatic skills were seriously lacking. Simply put, the same dense skull that made her resilient when wrestling a mutant wildebeest also made her impervious to subtle hints.
"I'm going with you. We are a partnership. This sounds important. Tell me where we are going so I may select the appropriate weapons."
Jonas rubbed his temples. "The truth will out." He muttered.
"Paddy, I must be honest with you. I am meeting a young lady. A royal young lady. I have been pursuing this certain lady for a meeting for several months and, after a period of time I thought indicated her complete refusal of me, she has suddenly agreed to lunch with myself. Now I know you do not fully understand the complexity of the Royals, but to refuse such an offer is to close doors of opportunity. I must make this rendezvous."
"Does not refusing a call on the red phone also close doors of opportunity?"
"Not at all! Frankly speaking, I'm sure whatever mutant animal is at this time rampaging through the city will still be doing so t slightly later today. At which point the Paloscia family will be even more interested in hiring our unique services and the price will go up." Jonas said pointedly, "simple economics, supply and demand."
"Won't people get hurt?" Paddy asked.
"Oh I doubt it. People in this city seem to have the mindset of ants when it comes to danger. As soon as they see a giant with a magnifying glass, they scurry for their holes. I am very sure everything will work out." Jonas glanced at his pocket watch again and snapped it shut with a very loud snick, "now that this is settled, I shall be seeing you in less than three hours hence and we will, together, face this new affront! Agreed?"
"You're sure you can handle this yourself?"
"Very sure."
"Three hours?" The red of her spines was lessening to a more comforting blue shade that Jonas found much more appealing and, above all, safe.
"No more my good partner."
"In three hours then." Paddy said abruptly turning and walking back through their office. "I shall improve my capacity with the NumKali Stick sword until you return."
"Brilliant, those Num-call ee, marvelous people with their sticks and... well cheerio!" Jonas ran from the office as soon as Paddy's back had disappeared around a corner.
"A woman will be the death of me." He muttered to himself, then the image of Samantha Taras entered his mind and he smiled, "of course a life without them would be a fate worse than death."

2009-07-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-05-27T14:36:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-03-13T14:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-01-06T07:32:00.000-08:00

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."

2008-10-16T11:41:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-29T11:55:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-03-22T13:22:00.000-07:00

Quick post, cause that's all I seem to have time for anymore :S

I did a bit more work on Piper Sorrows today, but be advised that this one is still kinda a work in progress. Still, it shows a bit more of the Face of Piper, who he is and what he is. He's a complex man. This section will be revised, but reading through it a couple times I'm happy enough with the presentation of the new facts to post it here. Hope you enjoy :)

Sorrowful confessions ~part 2~

Summer flourished, filling the air with heat and scents from a world that brimmed with life. Piper sat on a tall hill in deep grass still wearing a travel stained jacket and heavy gloves. The world around him stretched perfectly in all directions, a castle sat against a range of mountains that spanned the horizon. There were parts of the world that seemed too real, parts that didn't seem real enough and other things in the corner of his eye that were unearthly horror.
“This isn’t real.” Piper said to himself, lying on the grass.
“It’s as real as you make it, lost one.” A voice whispered in his ear. The voice was formless, coming on the winds to speak softly to Piper. It spoke in words and feelings, carried on a tide too powerful to contain, like an ocean’s whim.
“I thought you might find me,” Piper said to the nothing. A tattered black cloak fluttered just behind him like an evening shadow, but when he turned his head it was gone. “Though I don't remember who you are.”
“Still no memories, it pains me to see you like this, lost and alone. Weak. I would protect you, you know I can. Even if you don't remember, you know I can. If only you give me your hand. Not even a hand, just speak a word and I will give you back everything that was taken.”
“I’m finding it myself.” Piper said. “And I am not as weak as you would think. I am surviving.”
“Barely!” The voice tensed and the power beneath it quivered, showing part of its true nature. Black ribbons and tattered cloth like funeral shrouds rose briefly in a flurry around Piper, though they were gone when he looked for them.
“You are a shadow of what you once were. You were more than a prince, more than a warrior!” The voice crooned. “Now you are a beggar with tricks that will not long protect you from those that will come for you. So far it has been the vagrants and mercenaries that have harassed you. Far more powerful foes you will face.”
“If you don’t send any, none will come for me.” Piper rose to his feet, finding that his legs worked normally in this strange place.
“Me? You think it’s only I who searches for you? You don’t fear Jonas? You don't fear the Thanes? It is not only my will that bends itself towards you, it is all the enemies you left behind. They still live, all of them, they thrive now while you only linger. You would do well to fear them.”
“I have no fear left in me.” Piper smiled, bending to pluck a flower from the field, “I was stripped of all that and left like this.”
“You should learn fear. Fear creates respect. Fear and respect Jonas, he will find you, have no doubts.”
“Then it saves me the time of finding him.”
“Fool! In your state you could not withstand even his captains!” The voice shrieked, wilting the flower in Piper’s hand. “You are lost and powerless! To survive you need protection! You need me!”
Piper nodded in agreement to the voice, “I have all I need to find who I was. I have more control than you think. Now I think I will wake up…”
The world around Piper hazed, as if he saw it through a mist and the voice faded, the power behind it waning, but the intentions still clear.
“We will see you when you have found the parts of yourself you despise! I will come to you then and see what you say!” The voice faded more and more, as did the field. “I know where you are now, I will send for you! I … will … send … for …. You!”
Piper opened his eyes painfully, and in his vision there was nothing around him that smelled of a field. The roof was bleak and thatch, the smells of stale bodies and blood rose up around him like a steam and mixed with the scent of animals. His head was wet from a damp cloth that sat there, cooling the fever that he still felt. He remembered the place, but it was if the memory came from another man; or the dream of another man. Piper tried to sit up but found that he couldn’t. Still, the small motion of trying brought a woman to his side and she leaned over him attentively.
“You should not move. It took me a day to move after the drugs left me.” The woman said. Her voice was harsh but carried with it compassion. “Can you hear me, can you understand me?”
Piper tried to speak, coughed and then nodded his head.
“This is good.” The woman said, “I would thank you for saving me. I heard all of what was to happen to me, and such fear I have never known! You saved me from that. Here, drink this, and I will help you as best as I can.”
A steaming cup was pressed gently to his mouth while a hand raised his head and Piper did his best to swallow without choking on the bitter drink. The hands that pressed the cup were careful and firm, making sure that some of the draught entered his lips without flooding them. Those hands had done this service before.
The drink coursed through Piper’s veins warming them with a speed that made him gasp out loud. There was magic at work, a cleansing kind that caused rebirth within him and set every sense tingling. Visions of the Ouri came back to him, rushing in like the mountain wind. Piper remembered vividly the trek to the small mining town and paying the inn keeper well for a room before the poison took him. Then there were the dreams, his mind retreating from his body when it was no longer useful there and finding her voice in his head. Now there was here, the present, and the woman he remembered from the Ouri tent leaning over him intently, mass of hair falling down around them both.
“What was that?” Piper asked.
The woman smiled, “it was life.” Content that Piper was regaining himself she stood and brushed the stray straws from the pallet off of her skirt’s knees. She busied herself around the small dim room, putting things into a pot that was boiling in the hearth and murmuring snatches of song while she worked. Piper sat up, limbs still tingling from the draught and drew the blankets up around his shoulders. His coat and shirt were hanging on a peg by the door.
“I am called Willow.” The woman said from her work. “I have some powers, sight and healing. The forest gives me many things, lends me its strength and it’s many shapes, if I have need. It was my foolishness that allowed them to catch me, much as it was yours that allowed them to catch you.”
“I was not being foolish, I was led there to rescue you.” Piper said simply.
“Hah! Led you say? I call that luck, and not the good kind if you had not been able to outsmart them.” Willow chuckled, then glanced over her shoulder, “still you must have some protection if you are still here and not at the mercy of those animals.”
Piper shrugged, reaching for his shirt to stave off the chill. The warming effects of the woman's drink were fading and the stiffnes was returning in small parts. Movement was possible but his arms needed the warm embrace of cloth.
“I did not see what you did to them, but I heard your explanation.” Will said again, sampling a bit of the pot's contents with a long spoon. “How did you do it? It may be a trick I would want to learn.”
Piper let out a low laugh, and shook his head.
“What? You think I have not the skill?” Willow asked haughtily.
“In honesty I can not teach what I do.” Piper said slowly, drawing his shirt up and over his head. “It is just something I am able to do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don't know...” Piper said, pulling the shirt over his head. “I remember little of my life from before my journey.”
“Your journey? Where are you going?”
“East.” Piper said with a small smile. “That is all I know. I will find what I am looking for if I travel east.”
Willow shook her head, her hair fanning out breifly from the small act, “the great cities are east, the Once Kingdoms. Few from these terrortories go east unless they have to.”
“I have to.” Piper said slowly, beginning to put on his coat.
With Piper's back to Willow, she hesitantly raised a hand, “you are... I feel...”
Piper whirled around and raised up his hand to stop her, but it was too late she had already begun looking into his time, gazing on the thread that was Piper's own in the great trapestry of the world.What she found was desolation.
There was a sun that had died, a lifeless orb that sat in the sky above a barren planet. Red clay was wind swept and rocky for as far as the eye could see; no trees grew, no green flourished. The ruins of a once great castle sat in the middle of a crator that must have, at one time, been a great lake but had since been withered to a muddy pool. Brown moss grew stangnat on the rocks of the castle and on the surface of the muddy pool.
Worse than all of this was the moon. The sun's opposite, the moon was a great pale light in the sky, smiling like a skull in the night. It wreathed with power and force, straining to break free of some invisible bonds. It was not a safe or unsafe power, but an indifferent power that could be shaped, maybe, by a mind of enough will. Willow saw all this vividly in an instant, and then reeled back as it struck as she desperately cut the connection her powrs had created to Piper's mind.
Piper was at her side in an instant, covering her shivering body with his coat.
“What are you?” Willow stuttered out between shiving fits, “I saw... I saw only desolation.”
“I am broken.” Piper said softly, “I am what once was, but cannot be anymore. You saw what is left in my absence, all the great powers laid to waste. I am a man of Sorrow, a lesson in humility.”
“No man could bear... you cannot live with such a past. Its wieght would destroy you! No man can live under a history that looks like what I saw.”
Piper smiled saddly, “I do not think you understand. What I am now is what you saw, I bear it easily everyday. You wondered why I journey? It is to restore what is to what it might be again. If I only find enough good in the world to deserve it.”
“Good?”
Piper nodded, “there is much evil in this world, the very air is tainted by it. Greed, dishonor, lust.. these are killing the world. But there are traces of good, like flowers pushing through cold stone.”
“Is that... is that why you saved me? To put some good back into the world?” Willow asked, clutching the coat close to herself. “By saving me you made the world a better place?”
“ No, I saved you because you told the truth.”

2008-02-11T11:37:00.000-08:00

To all those friends we forget so easily...

Sooo... updates hey? Right. I'm on top of that like an elephant on a buttered up beach ball. Which is to say I'm not on top of it at all. I would be more... underneath it. With the aforementioned elephant on top of me. Sooo ... yeah ... updates.

I did finish a new Piper Sorrows story. Haha I know what you're thinking "suuuure you did, you liar! If you finished it, where is it?" Its on my computer... you know, hanging out with all the other stuff on there... *cough* Ok ok seriously, it is done but I don't think I'm posting it here. Not yet anyway. I started writing bits to fill in the 'between' spots, you see, and decided once and for all I should create a beginning for Piper. What I wrote was the beginning. The first installment, as it were, and it doesn't at all fit in the chronological order of what is posted on this blog. Which, as far as I'm concerned, is fine. I will have new Piper content up, and soon. For now you will have to endure one of my rants... sort of.

I have two things that I always kept meaning to post up here. One is The Golden Compass, the other is Oban Star Racer. So first things first. Golden Compass.

Apparently Golden Compass (the movie) and the books from which it drew the majority of its strengths, was written by an athiest as a sort of antidote for the works of CS Lewis(namely the Chronicals of Narnia). The film was visually appealing but quite lackluster. Apparently the movie strayed from the books and watered down alot of the very religious(or anti-religious) themes. The result was a very mundane story, as far as I'm concerned. It probably would have been better had it been more controversial, though it has sparked alot of noise from both secular groups(for watering it down) and religious groups(for it existing at all and even hinting at its themes). Still there were two points I'd like to make about it.

What I found expressly interesting was the inclusion of souls in the story. Each and every person in the story had a soul that inhabited an animal form and was its own creature. (though there was a very clear physical connection between human and soul). I found the idea of an athiest soul very interesting. I beleive in an immortal soul, but that's coming from a Christian perspective. A soul is not tagible, I can not prove it's existence, you have to take a step of faith to say you beleive in it. Basically the Golden Compass puts forth the idea that you can prove, scientifically, the existance of a soul. By the same effort then, God could also be proven scientifically, thus contradicting athiest belief. I found that funny.

The other thing I found funny was the motivation for the movie. CS Lewis didn't go out of his way to create thinlly veiled christian propaganda. He wanted to write a story but, as he was one great Christian Philosopher, his beleifs shone through and influenced his fiction. Thats why his story worked. Lewis is quoted to saying once that "The world does not need more Christian Writers, they need writers who are Christian." He was a great philosopher and a great influence on anyone who reads his works.

Golden Compass - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Golden_Compass_(film)
C.S. Lewis - http://personal.bgsu.edu/~edwards/lewisdoc.html

The Second thing I want to say is abouw Oban Star Racer. Very rarely am I completely blown away by an animated show for its originality, strength of plot and perfect pacing. Those that come to mind are Cowboy Bebop, Trigun, Samuari Seven. To this Oban adds heart. It's the story of a human racing team being chosen to compete in an intergalactic race where the prize is one wish, anything you could want. Each character is in the race for different reasons, and their interaction is partly why the show is as good as it is. The character / ship / world designs are the other part. If you get the chance watch it. Watch it and love it, for it is certainly worthy of our affections.

Oban Star Racer - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C5%8Cban_Star-Racers

More Piper Sorrows coming, I promise.

John, the Writer.

2007-12-30T14:55:00.000-08:00

Last legs of a pretty darn good year.

Hey all! I guess Christmas is a valid excuse for not updating this thing. Its funny how one holiday that actually lasts about 24 hours can literally consume a month. People nod and accept it saying that 'well, it is christmas season...' things are put on hold, tight budgets are loosened and diets are completely ruined; all for Christmas. But isn't it wonderous?

Now its over and I feel I must report on my writing activities for the past month and for the future year.

There does exist a new Piper Sorrows but I'm not satisfied with it. 'Confessions: part two' is actually a fairly critical chunk in the story that will unviel what Piper is about and who he is. As his character developed more or less at random from several short stories I'm forced now to think hard about who he is. It's probably the hardest part of stoy writing. Some characters write themselves, I've expiereced this before. Celest from Culture is one such character. In any given situation I know exactly how she should react. Piper is far different and, with a story as loosely defined as his, I need to sit down and figure out where to go from here. Rest assured there will be more Piper coming, but it won't come until I'm happy with his story.

Other than piper I've decided to give myself a very narrow set of goals. These include doing a certain amount of chapters as opposed to completing whole novels, and completing short stories. Piper stories, creature stories and Black Nine's stories are among the shorts I'll be working on, and Culture and 1001 will be the novel projects. As far as comic projects go there is a possibility of Piper stories being converted, as well as Under House. Others will be worked on as oppurtunity and time allow.

Thanks for all the support form the last year! It has been great! Happy New year everyone!

John, the writer.

2007-11-30T15:48:00.000-08:00

I won. Though it may seem like a bit of a pointless victory, its not. My novel is far from done, mostly its a collection of "might work" chapters, some that aren't even finished, and a collection of notes that's actually more complete than the novel itself. It IS a victory. Under the presure of Nano, the story warped and twisted into something I hadn't planned on. It grew and flourished, it spawned ideas and new concepts that I hadn't previously entertained as possibilities. Most of all it created and killed characters and forced me to write more than I've written in the past three years, combined. I'm a better person for it though, right now, I am very tired.

Thanks for everyone's support, We'll do it all again next year :)

John, the Writer.

2007-11-19T08:54:00.000-08:00

Nano is like a relationship.

Theres the honeymoon phase where everything is excellent, the days fly by and wonderful memories are created. Then theres the slow rut where you're comfortable and stable without doing anything spectacular. Then there's this time that apparently all authors hit: the slump.

I'm here, and its where we artistic types get the sterotypes of being angsty and depressed. How can life go on when this story is so horrible? The plot doesn't match up with anything, the characters are horrible and everything is very, very distressing. Its at this point that you wonder if it isn't time to call it quits, find something new to write and forget about this drivel. This is where I am with Culture.

I have the same misgivings about this story that I did when I first started it. The previous story ideas keep getting in the way of the new ones and the plot seems to be stalemating. From a prose point of view, its actually coming along very well; the city of Sarient is taking on amazing shape. But its not exciting, not yet. And an adventure that isn't exciting isn't much of an adventure at all.

With that said here's my plan going forward ( heh if anyone cares )

1) I'm hitting the 50K word goal. I will accomplish this feat by use of what I'm going to call the 'Odds and Ends' approach. I'm going to try writing bits and pieces of what the final product should look like, experiment with a bunch of different scenes that may or may not find a place in the final version and try my characters in a bunch of different roles until I find something that fits. This will not make a complete story. As far as I'm concerned this will result in a big mess.

2) I'm going to finish it. I won't be finished by the end of November, not by a long shot. But I think I'll be in a position that I know where the story should go, how the major events should happen and, most of all, know who my characters are. Imagining my characters has been the hardest struggle with Culture, but hopefully they'll stick with me and get me through.

That's my plan. If anyone wants to read the resulting "mess" of Nano, you're more than welcome to. I would really enjoy any critisism that anyone has to give me on this one. Just know it for what it is, a first try on a very large piece that will come into its own someday, Just not someday soon.

Thanks to everyone who's encouraged me this month and thanks to Tina for listening to my rants and smacking me when I needed it. Love ya babe!

John, the Writer

P.S. 27559 words and counting ;)

2007-11-13T07:11:00.000-08:00

Update from Nano...

I'm not going to report too much today, except that I'm on track. I think I'm driving my fiance nuts with my constant word count calculations when really I should just be writing and checking it later, but thats ok. Less than a month to go Babe, then I'll go into edit mode ;)

Anywho, I took a four day weekend this past weekend that I was able to set aside at least an hour a day to work on Culture, and sometimes more like 3 hours. The result was over 8000 words written for a grand total of 19100 words. Already I've exceeded my word counts from last year, so that in itself is fairly major victory.

The real challenge will be to finish strong next week as One weekend I will be visiting my parents and there are a few days during the week when I have other commitments. Still, whatever the word result of this month, I am very happy with the place that Culture is going. Its exciting because its not a place I would have thought it would go a month ago and really, thats what Nano is all about; forcing a writer to expand their ideas of a story with new ideas.

I'm really looking forward to finishing this piece of writing, and looking forward to sharing it here and other places. I won't post an excerpt at this time as it really does need to be edited harshly.

Thanks for the support, and God Bless ya all :)

John, the Writer.

2007-11-05T07:55:00.000-08:00

Update from Nano...

Hey all! I've got to say that I was right, somewhat. I feared that trying to rewrite a story instead of writing on a new idea might be harder just because there is a previous version. This weekend I kept trying to write on the original idea and lets just say, it didn't work so well. Saturday was a very frustrating day. Yesterday, however, was a good day and I came up with some very fresh ideas on how to use the characters I already had in a slightly different place in thier lives. Although I only have a little over 2500 words written (and realistically should have just about 10,000) I feel I am in a better mindset to forge forward. The hardest part is to keep from going back and editing as I get new ideas for the story, but that comes later, in december :)

Alright I will quit yaking now and give you all what you so deeply desire. Heres an excerpt from the first chapter of 'Culture: a working title'. I hope you enjoy this part as much as I enjoyed imagining Sarient's central train transfer station.

John, the Writer

Culture:

The square at Sage and 6th was the busiest corner in all Sarient. The two streets came to a junction and formed a square with most of three sides worth closed in with buildings, leaving an open square in the middle. Sage came from the east and exited the square through a tall arc at the far western side of the square, a tunnel built through the buildings themselves.
Originally home to a set of University dorms and two sides worth of shops and coffee houses flanking it, the square was now home to two of the largest rail companies in Dinland, the South Transit Company and Greenway Rail. The Dorms had been torn down in recent years to make room for the transfer platforms and massive service garage that both of the companies shared, but the stores had stayed on. No longer having to cater exclusively, the shops at Sage and 6th enjoyed a much higher volume of traffic. Everyone who worked in the South Side factory district had to, at some point in their day, pass through Sage and 6th.
As such the square had attracted other tenants; the nation's bank occupied a narrow space between two platforms and rose up in an umbrella like tower. The base only had room for several doors, two elevators and several teller boxes; the upstairs was significantly larger, as were the basement vaults and offices. Other less significant money lenders and accountants rented vault space from the Nations Bank. The Walton was a gentleman's club of high repute, walled off from the rest of the square with black iron and a small garden. Sherman's livery and tack, Maybelle fine dresses, various stores specializing in clothes or clocks or a hundred other things made up the malls on either side of the square, where the buildings at times were four stories tall. Each was attached to the other through a maze of halls and elevators, meaning that a shopper could go inside at one end and spend an entire day making their way through stores and come out on the other side.
The square itself was one of the only open squares left in the city where most of the streets had become clustered with houses and buildings to the point where even the streets themselves seemed to be shrinking. Street vendors, performers and baggers made the most of this, hawking wares from push wagons and begging for money by way of entertaining or pity. Children and dogs ran amid the legs of the workers that streamed constantly to and from their shifts in the factories, picking up garbage and scraps left by the commuters. It was a sea of gray workers tunics and grubby faces where the occasional bright woman's hat or fine business suit would drift, listless and then lost amid the shifting tides. The people were the water and the trams were the current.
Over the past ten years the rail companies had laid down mile after mile of track and set up the wires for the trams themselves. They moved almost endlessly, filling the city with noise, stopping only for a six hour period each night for maintenance. The rest of the time they moved people effectively, each seat crammed full and more passengers hanging off the side steps. Those that ran through the city ran on wires and electricity but the larger trams meant for crossing the Greenway to the North East were monsters powered on steam with elegant coach and dining cars for those that could afford it and box cars lined with benches for those that couldn't. From Sage and 6th a man could get anywhere in the country.

2007-10-30T12:53:00.000-07:00

The continuing journey of Piper Sorrows. Ok so for those of you who have been reading the whole thing and are just starting to wonder 'who is this guy' and 'whats he all about' I started wondering the same thing. To that end this two part story will route out some of the questions. I know how the second part will go, I just need to write it BUT since Nano starts in two days that might be trouble. Don't worry there isn't anything like a cliffhanger ending here, so the wait shouldn't kill you. Stay tuned for Nano Updates next month and enjoy the next Piper story. Thanks and Goood night!

Sorrowful Confessions ~Part One~

The mountains gave way to sparse forest and hill land grudgingly, strangling all but the hardiest trees until the foothills finally gave way to prairie. In the same way winter had begun to lose its grip on the weather, but only ever so slightly; it was the coldest spring in memory. The wind still swept down from the tall peaks carrying winters bite, and the trees had not yet woken from their slumber even though the snow was vanishing. Piper walked the fields of this land without a road to guide him.
The heavy coat was open to his waist, and the scarves had been pulled back to be left dangling, despite the cold still in the wind. It was refreshing, in a way, to feel the bite of that wind. After so many days confined to heavy clothes for basic survival, it was good to let the body breath. It was good to feel the painful chill of the wind. It was good to feel alive.
Stopping on a knoll before heading deeper into the foothills Piper bent to draw a small sign in the dirt.
“I do not know why I come this way, some will or power draws me to walk this route,” he murmured to the wind. “What I once was, I am no more. Once a Knight by the right hand of Kanas, advisor and friend, now a pawn in a game I do not understand.”
He turned his face away from the mountains and away from the wind that swept down the shear rock sides. “All I know is that I seek and what I seek is not where I have been.” Suddenly cold, Piper gathered his coat around him and set off again into the wilderness of the place. In the distance he saw the smoke from a cooking fire and headed towards it.
The camp he happened upon was set in among the brush, a tent of sorts next to a boulder for protection from the wind and a low fire whose ashes and embers were stirred by errant breezes. Two spits of rabbit roasted and a small kettle sat on the rocks, warming slowly. Of men there were, at first, no one but a musket was propped against a pole of the tent near a bundle of provisions, showing signs of life. As Piper approached, a Leaf emerged from the tent and another on a horse came from the brushes, more rabbits on a string and a bow half drawn in his hands.
“Hold stranger,” the Leaf from the tent had a hard face, though finely sculpted. There were bits of scars on his face and on his bare forearms and the brown of his hair was intermingled with green vines. The leaf on the horse might have been of similar make though it wore a cloak with hood drawn fast and a bark mask over its eyes. It drew the bow with a fluid motion when Piper did not stop as suddenly as expected. Eying the archer, Piper held his ground.
“I would ask, one traveller to another, that I might share in your fire? Nothing more, I will do you no harm.”
“Know that I am not being overly cautious, these few woods hide terrors.” The Leaf on foot said, reaching for the leaning gun. “I have no argument against sharing fire as well as food, but I need some token of good faith first. These, as surely you know, are dangerous times.”
Piper nodded and took his coat off, “Of course. I am unarmed…”
“He’s a caster!” The Leaf on the horse said; a male voice.
“Yes. I do not hide it.”
“A caster…” The Leaf on foot thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I have eaten with your kind before and am still here. I am tolerant of casters.”
“You’re curious of casters!” The leaf on the horse spoke, leaping off the back of the animal with pure grace, bow still drawn and trained on Pipers heart. “It is your weakness.”
The first Leaf growled, “Na ca sin sol bach!”
“Na ca sin aln’th kat nora bin ala bach!”
“Na ca sin honk ala.” The two glared at each other for a moment before the Leaf on foot said, “my friend says I must be wary of those such as yourself. He wishes me caution.”
“I will not divide such friends; I will find my own fire.”
“No!” The first Leaf said forcefully, “you will sit with us and we can talk of powers.” He raised his hand and it shone, “I have some small skill myself.”
The masked Leaf lowered his bow, “though I do not trust those of men, you will eat with us. It is decided.”
Piper nodded and shivered, donning his coat again. The two busied themselves around the fire and soon knives were produced along with shallow wooden mugs. They took it in turns leaning in to cut slivers of rabbit, mixing it with boiled herbs from the kettle. The food was bland, but warm. Piper felt some warmth creep back into his bones.
“It is forest food, this brew we drink. Though there is nothing poisonous for man in it, that I know of, I do not think it nourishes you the same way it does us. For that I apologize.”
“It is more than am used to, and I am thankful.” Piper nodded his head and pressed his hands together slightly in thanks.
“Ah ha, see? He is wise and knows the proper gesture to thank a Leaf.” The first laughed, “I am called Twistknot, and this is my friend Thornmoss.”
“Piper.”
“Piper…” Twistknot tapped the flat of his knife on his knee. “The name seems familiar to me, are there many of your kind that are called so?”
“A few, you may have me confused with others.” Piper agreed. He kept his face downward. “What brings you to these lands; you are far from real forests.”
Thornmoss tightened his grip on his knife but Twistknot only shook his head.
“If you were a Leaf, we could kill you now without any feeling of guilt. We are of the banished you see, those you may have heard called Ouri. Our crimes are such that our people no longer acknowledge our existence. It is an insult to us to have that fact brought up, but you could not have known.”
“But now I do, I will not dishonour you out of ignorance again.”
“I’m sure we are both grateful.” Thornmoss said quietly, though there was an edge to his voice.
“Indeed.” Twistknot shook his head, glaring at his companion. “Though even banished as we are, we are not without use. We find work as mercenaries. My friend here has mastered the bow and I have diverse skills. Our people will not tolerate us, but they will pay us to solve their problems.”
Piper nodded, “I have heard of you, or those like yourself.”
Twistknot shrugged, “those of the Ouri are not uncommon and we do not hide. Lately even the sap bloods have found use for our brand of ruthlessness. See?” Twistknot grasped the stock of his musket and pushed aside the flap of their tent. Inside a woman was prone with eyes wide open but unseeing. She was dressed as a gypsy with a mass of curly black hair and gold earrings. Her dress was like the autumn forest, patches of red, yellow and orange fabric sewn together to create a tapestry.
“What was her crime?”
“Crime? Hah!” Twistknot cut more meat, “I think honesty was her crime. I heard that our current employer happened upon her as he returned from his winter home last spring. He is a fanciful leaf and demanded that she tell him her fortune. As I now understand it, she has the gift, you see. Like us, she has power. Our employer is forceful, and so she sets out her glass and looks into his future. She had the nerve to tell him what she saw and not what he wanted to hear.”
“A rare fault truth is these days.” Piper said quietly, keeping his eyes on the woman.
Thornmoss chuckled, licking his bowl out like a wolf and sitting back on his haunches, bow in reach.
Twistknot shook his head, “sap bloods are very vain, as you might know, and this one more than most. The woman eluded his own guards and using her power turned herself into a bird to fly away. It took us this much time to find her, laying our quiet traps.”
“I can’t imagine her fate now.”
“It will not be pleasant. We would have started her punishment except that we are under strict orders not to harm her. Not even rope burns on her wrists. That is why we use a subtle poison to darken her mind. She can do nothing without great aid.” Twistknot grinned wildly. “That I could be there when they bring the hot knives, the nightmare magic and dark herbs; her screams will echo.”
“Pain is truly life’s marker, I am almost envious. She will receive a great understanding of life before she passes.” Thornmoss agreed.
“All for the truth…” Piper said.
Twistknot smiled, “it’s a dangerous thing. But enough of that, you have eaten our food and now I would have you show us some of your skill.” He let the musket drop and the flap covered up the woman. “I am eager to learn from others. You see I have taught myself all I know with little guidance.”
Piper set his bowl aside and rubbed his hands on his coat, “it is the least I can do. You spoke of pain and suffering teaching you about life, of knowing life, understanding life. I have a trick I could show you that does this very well. It is simple but few have the courage to summon such things.”
Twistknot leaned close, smiling, “I assure you my mettle is absolute. I have killed men, tortured women and gazed into the dark wells of Kra’la sing where I first received my power. Show me your trick, but I should warn you. In the moment of your slightest betrayal, Piper Sorrows, my friend will kill you.”
Piper’s mouth twitched, “you know me?”
“Know you and know your worth.” Thornmoss had his bow drawn and trained.
“Already the poison that keeps her at bay flows through your veins. It is slow; however, slow enough that I could glean some knowledge from you before we take you to Jonas.” Twistknot spread his hands, “and there is no such order to keep you unharmed. The poison dulls the mind, but keeps the senses sharp. We will teach you something of life in turn for your lesson. Now, continue, please.”
Piper licked his lips, “then I have been caught fairly, it would be a shame if you had to kill me in defence. I might try to escape.”
“You are a target of opportunity, we don’t need the money and I can learn elsewhere but we are greedy. Your worth is great and I would learn from the best. Now, teach. It might be your last chance and we will be easier if your lesson is good.”
“In that case…” Piper flexed his hands, “this is what you might call a dance of shadows. You need water.”
“There is some in the kettle.”
“Yes, that’s enough, and placing your hands like so, you hum like this. There are other ways to work it, but I prefer music.”
Piper placed his hands on both sides of the kettle and began a low wordless song. His tongue tripped over the highs and lows seamlessly, whirling the music like a tool. The fire dimmed and the sun dimmed, for the song had qualities of night from the darkest days. The water rippled in the pot and then balled, rising up out of the pot and pooling into a ball that shifted this way and that. Instead of reflecting light its surface seemed to reflect shadows, gathering up all the bits of shade around the camp fire and casting them out again in mesmerizing patterns. Any light of the day dimmed to a memory.
The song gathered strength and the shadows in the water took form. Twistknot leaned closer, enthralled by it and Thornmoss let his bow string slip a bit, releasing the tension. The shapes became more solid to them, glimpses of memories and snatches of thought.
“It absorbs light and twists shadows into creatures, intriguing I have not seen magic of this sort before. They are, they are from my own life! I can see back into my life, the magic is showing it to me!” Twistknot leaned closer and Piper continued.
The song grew louder but the two leaf’s weren’t paying attention to that anymore, they were engrossed in the shifting shapes, shadows re-enacting their pasts. There were moments of joy and happiness, flung together with shards of passion and indulgence. Dreams and wishes flashed across the waters edge, reaching out with alluring hands to beckon the two Leaf’s inward to relive the best parts of their life. They could not look away, not even when Piper lifted his hands away, leaned into the fires’ smoke and shook a tear from his eye into the water. The joy vanished.
Nightmares and horrors stretched out clawed hands. Faces of aguish, victims and those wronged appeared as spectres. No longer were the shapes confined to the ball of water, but reached out grasping at the minds of the two. Thornmoss screamed, tried to run, but found he could not. Twistknot only stood, mouth open and eyes wide. They both fell to the ground shaking, mouths in wide soundless screams.
Piper let his hands fall, the water melted back into the pot and light returned to the campsite. The Leaf’s stayed as they were, frozen from the base realization of their evil.
“It’s a simple spell, but few have the courage,” Piper murmured, “I might have said few have the heart. A child can look into that magic and see nothing, for they are innocent. It only shows what is already there, nothing more.”
Piper crossed to the two Leaf’s and covered their bodies with blankets. “It will pass in time, the shock and the fear and I pray you learn from it. It is rare; few get the chance to look so honestly into their own souls, to be taught so much about them in such a short time.”
Piper opened the tent flaps and took the woman, still dazed from the drugs, in his arms and went off into the spares woods. He stopped before he reached the edge of the camp. “You were right Twistknot, the truth is a dangerous thing.”

2007-10-15T11:08:00.001-07:00

October has come and you know what follows October...

Well, ok, maybe you don't but I realize that those that find November a very, very exciting month are of a certain type of mind. Mostly writers. Novemeber is national novel writing month and as such, every November writers will flock to http://www.nanowrimo.org/ in droves to participate in what can only be described as an explosion of creative energy. The single goal is to write 50,000 original, coherant words in one month. Preferably in a novel format.

Now, as easy as this might sound, it isn't. Not really. Alot of professional writers have trouble getting 50,000 words written in three times that time. I've tried three times and on only the first year have I succeeded, getting further and further from the goal in subsequent years with offerings of 30,000 words and lastly with around 15,000. Whatever the word count result, the ideas that were spawned out of this event are amazing. My first try created 1001, my second gave birth fo Condition Genesis and lastly the epic Underhouse was given some form. And so, I will try the contest again.

The past three tries have been original ideas with only loose frames to build on. At the urging of my wonderful Fiance to actually finish something I've started, I'm going to be using a well defined story idea that I've been meaning to rewrite for a long while. That Story is Culture. Before 1001 this was probably my most well defined world in terms of history, peoples, maps and characters. Below is the synopsis:

Culture is a story of politics and racism set against a fantasy world in which the planet has been broken and continents float through the air around a dense core much like planets around a sun. As the populations of the planet slowly discover flight, they discover they are not alone. The story follows Raven, the only daughter of the Elfin Ambassador, in a human city as she is caught up in a Nations Holy War against all things unhuman. The sides are blurred, but the stakes are unbeleivably high as she tries to rediscover her people's history, culture and religion in time to save it from extinction.

I'll be posting updates as to word counts and probably snatches of content throughout November (hopfully once a week if not more often). In the meanwhile I have about a quarter of the next Piper Sorrows story created, it will be up before November. If anyone is at all interested in novel writing, I would challenge you to visit the NaNowrimo website here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/ and seriously consider trying. Its alot of work BUT I can really tell you that if you become one of the small percentage that accomplish it, it is a fantastic feeling.

John, the writer.

2007-09-18T13:46:00.000-07:00

My Adventures thus far as a Canadian Juror...

I had to write something about this as, driving from the courthouse back to work for the third time today, my expierence as a Juror has been fairly humorous and, I would hope, not common. But lets not start at today, lets start about a month ago when I received the letter. For the past month I, John Gunningham, have been a part of Canada's Judicial system, sitting in the Jury panel.

I had a couple misconceptions going into this thing. The first and probably largest is the amount of time it would take. I thought, naively as it turns out, that there would be a day of selection followed by, if one was selected, however many days of trial. This course of thought is very untrue. When selected to be in the pool of Jurors the court effectively owns you for 5 weeks. At any point inside those five weeks if there is a trial, you could be selected. So you're selected to serve on the first trial's Jury, you're exempt from the rest right? Nope. You come back the next week as they will undoubtedly need another 'panel of peers' to condem the next poor sod.

As it turns out, I'm 2 for 3, having been selected and served on 2 of the 3 court cases. Both ended the same way; the accused pleaded guilty before much of anything was done. So, as it turns out, a jury was not needed at all and about 3 days worth of my time was consumed, as a fire consumes paper, utterly without any kind of interesting by product. During this time they would give us 2 hour lunches only to have us return to tell us we could go, creating the equivalant of a human yo-yo. Perhaps this is just a game the judge plays, bouncing us like balls for his whims.

Now I have a theory. The court is intimidating, and this prompts wrong-doers to confess. A group of 12 people, strangers, staring, makes the accused confess. Therefore I theorize that instead of a Jury, we use a pack of gorillas. Large, male and angry. True the court system would lose a "rational" decision making body, however the intimidation factor would be through the roof. Imagine, your life in the hands of a 300 pound silverback, who will more likely squeeze hard than offer any sort of "Not Guilty" statement. Crime would stop. End of Story.

I just wanted to get that theory out there, if anyone with any kind of power sees this I would be more than happy to debate my condensed, abrupt form of Justice, dished out as it would be by a King Kong version of Judge Dredd. I also think bingo balls would be much prefered to the random selection dished out from cards in a box.

John.

2007-09-15T15:38:00.000-07:00

Snow fell in bursts, blown down from the heavens by a wind intent on piercing through even the thickest of winter garments. The town gate, usually seen from atop the farthest part of Travellers pass, was obscured in white. Piper stopped trudging and held a hand up, the falling snow causing it to vanish at an arm's length. Yet, despite the wind and snow, the bitter cold and all the trappings of deep winter, there was a serene quality to the day. All sounds were muffled in the deep white, and the landscapes many rugged obscenities were covered up with sheets of snow. Not the cleansing of a thunderstorm, but at least giving an illusion of purity.

"Such is life," Piper sighed and he walked on into the town.

"Please Sir, my mama is sick, we need some small amount for food.... please Sir..."

"The winter... the guards took all we had..."

"Please Sir..."

"Please..."

Piper passed by them quietly, tiredly. The children and widows sat pleading at first and then spitting and condemning. It was their way, a nature inside themselves that could not be broken; the way of the begger. Having what little they earned taken from them for tax filled them with spite, not ambition to strive for more. It was a cycle that the current merchant lord of the town could break, except for greed and lack of any good intentions. So the snow fell and heaped on their slumped shoulders, covering them but not purifying.

Piper sighed and slowed his walk. A large man sat shivering by himself, holes in his wool mittens.
"Please Sir, the crops... the Master took what the drought didn't. Please Sir, I have family... anything helps... anything at all..."

"Do you have anything to trade?" Piper asked the man.

"I have... nothing..."

"I can not give you charity, it must be a trade. There is nothing that I can give you that will help past this day, but you may be able to give me something to help yourself. Tell me, what is in the sack, the one that hangs from your belt?"

"Please Sir, only next year's seed. I keep it on me for fear of theft, these are hard times. I can't trade it, I can't."

"Is that so? You still grasp onto hope for a better year... I think there is a way that we can both be warmed this day." Piper said, "you see, I am looking for the good in this world. I have been cursed with a name, a name that brings upon me grief and trouble. I travel to find my faith again, my faith that things are not as bad as they seem. Trust me, good Sir, and I promise that you will be rewarded in full. I will trade your seeds for a song."

The man stared at Piper, his haggard face one that had seen too many promises broken to be naive. He had lost everything, his family depended on a bag of seeds tied to his belt. Yet there was something in this strange man's eyes, something that spoke of kinship and hardship and, above all else, an endurance that had allowed him to rise above all that had happened. The man had felt great sorrow, yes, and yet he remained. There was something in him that was worth trusting.

Hesitantly, the old farmer reached for the bag, then stopped.

"A song?" He stated flatly, "this is my future, all of it. What am I going to do with a song?"

"You'd be surprised," Piper said, "it is a very, very good song." Still there was that sorrow in his voice and honesty unburdoned by even a trace of a lie. For an instant the farmer beleived him, beleived that all he really did need was a song, a good song, and his life would be put back to order. He handed over the seeds.

Piper smiled.

"You have kindled something in my heart, you have nothing and yet you gave it on the word of a stranger for nothing more than a song. You trusted me."

"But you said... you said I would be paid in full?"

"And so you shall, so shall you all!" Piper spilled the bag on the snowy ground to the protest of the farmer. From the inner pockets of his long jacket he produced a long pipe and, upon wetting the wood with his tongue, began to play.

The first note was like the dawning of spring, a warm gust of sound that stirred hope inside the old farmer. More followed, and the blizzard hesitated, trying to decide if it was correct in blowing snow into a place where such a song existed. More notes came, and they layered impossibly so it sounded like more than just one man playing the flute, but choirs of beautiful singers creating a music beyond imagination. Slowly the song progressed from the earliest of spring moments into a time when the plants would bud and the new seeds would put down their roots.

The peasants and beggers came, drawn out of their misery to the music and, upon gazing at Piper, they could not beleive their eyes. Snow blew around him, but did not touch him. The air had grown warm, not a lull in the storm but an absolute absence of it. The song had brought spring to that place in the town, the snow had melted away and, before the unbeleiving eyes of the villagers, the seeds spilt on the earth had began to sprout.

Sprouts of grain threw down their roots and grew tall and lush in that moment of spring. The music turned to a summer rain and the plants were nourished. As the beggers watched, more people came, merchants and business men and guards from their posts at the wall. They saw the grain stalks grow into a sheaf, and thicken, twisting themselves around each other until the stalks were like the truck of a tree. The magic of the song made the grain grow taller, far taller then any normal grain, with golden branches and silver leaves, spreading out over the heads of the crowd. A dark fruit hung heavy on the branches, dipping them low.

Piper's fingers slowed on the pipe, the music wound down until the chorus had left and it was just him playing, a simple traveler and a pipe. And then the music was gone, the crowd left blinking in the special silence of after music and winter storm. For a moment they almost beleived it hadn't happened, but there the tree stood, untouched by the storm and heavy with food. A guard pushed past the crowd.

"I claim this tree in the name of the Lord Merchant!" He exclaimed and moved forward to grab the produce. His hand stopped inches from any branches and though he strained he could not force his hand closer. Cursing he drew his sword and swung hard, the blade stopping short with enough force to jar the man backwards.

"What manner of magic is this?"

"Its a beggers tree, it only feeds those that need it, those that deserve it." Piper said. He put the pipe back into the folds of his coat and picked a fruit off the tree. The farmer stepped up and reached his hand forward, picking a fruit and gingerly trying it. His face brightened.

"Its good!" He yelled, and threw his head back laughing, "come and try it! It is good!"

The beggers came and the peasants came. Any who were deserving ate their fill and there was still more. Those undeserving could not reach the tree, and the fruit they stole turned to ashe in their mouths. The beggers of the street rejoiced, singing praise to the myseterios stranger and exclaiming to those that had just arrived the miracle they had witnessed.

"He played a song, thats it! And the tree grew where the storm parted!"

"You're daft! That was more than a song, that was powerful magic, of the likes I've not seen, nor heard!"

"It was a miracle! A miracle! Where is he? Thanks to you stranger, where is he?"

The people looked but Piper had left, moving on like gust of wind in the storm. Looking back from the road on the town and hearing the noise he smiled. Slowly he tugged off the glove that covered his hand and gazed at the glowing marks there. Two of the sun's beams were glowing.

2007-09-06T12:50:00.001-07:00

Tales of Sorrow...

The door bell rung, a heavy dong that resounded the whole of the room. It was a Stone pub, built heavy with large things, tables chairs and walls all over built. The door bell was no exception.

"Leave guns and stuff with me, no trouble wanted here. No trouble wanted." The towering Stone gaurd rumbled. He hardly bothered to glance at the lean man who had arrived from of the flurries outside.

"I'm unarmed." the man said simply. The Stone guard shifted its gaze slowly, like a mountin moving. Bits of grey living pebble crumbled at his neck joint where the winter wind had patterned frost. White eyes regaurding the man whose only defining feature was a stock of redish brown hair pushing past scarves and the tall collar of his jacket. Dark tinted snow goggles hid the rest of his face. He was ageless

"You travel out there with no guns? Nothing sharp? I no believe you. Give them over, no trouble wanted here." The Stone rummbled again. His wieght had started to shift, massive gey boulder hands reaching out to grasp the man if needed.

"No guns... but I have this..." The man pulled a thick glove from his hand and held the hand up. A glyph in the shape of a sun glowed softly on his hand and the air around him turned warmer. Only one of the glyph's sunbeams glowed like the core, though, making the marking lopsided "I can't give you my hand, its attached."

"I can unattach anything." The rock hands kept advancing. There wasn't a smile on the cold face.

"I doubt anything." The man said. It wasn't a threat, it lacked the tone and any air of malicious intent. Still, the heavy man's hands stopped.

"You no make trouble?" He rummbled.

"I'm hungry and wet, I don't need trouble."

"How do I know?"

The man paused. "I swear by Kalas, our Dead King." The man spoke slowly. His words carried wieght, causing more in the tavern to look than when the door bell had rung.

The Stone turned slowly "Mistress?"

A woman dressed in fur cloaks and a ring of beads strung in her white streaked hair approached. She was younger than most in the place, but heads nodded an acknowledgement of authority as she passed by. Her eyes held fire and her the sort of beauty that can be found in chisled statues of heathen goddesses.

"You swear by a dead king? what kind of promise is that. Why would such a man as yourself hold your word to that?"

He started to speak but she raised her hand.

"I know more than you think, I see more than you see. Your aura is filled with pain, your power is more than mine. If you willed it this house would be in ruins. But I also see a calm mind, and a weary traveller. You may stay, so long as you wear my mark."

"I gave my word on Kanas..."

"You are far from that broken kingdom, a name of a Dead King carries little wieght here."

"So be it..."

The woman extended her hand, looped in beads. Each bead was written a mark of power. At her touch blue light blazed from the man's forehead, then his eyes and then his mouth. In an instant he fell to the floor of the tavern, a yelp of pain escaped his lips.

"Kanas was a fool!" the woman snarled, pacing around the man in agony. "Did you think your name had not reached here? Did you think someone of your stature would not be looked for? Jonas looks for you, and punish all who get in his way. We will deliver you, so I think he will shower us with gold, is that not right? Man of Sorrows?"

The man writhed, but then the light dimmed, the mark on his forehead squirmed like a living worm. All the while the heat in the room rose until waves rippled around the man. His shouts of pain became something else, words of struggle muttered in the forgotten langages of Inferno and Suns. The woman looked on unbeleiving.

"No! This is my house! My power will not be undone under My roof!"

"This house is... undone!"

The Stone's did not move fast enough, the mark on his forehead shattered and the man rose off the ground in a pillar of fire.

"If Jonas comes, tell him I look still, I will always look. His power will never stop me!" His eyes were light and the voice that emitted shook the tables of the Stone tavern. "As for you, you who tried to bridle me, you shall wear my mark. Piper Sorrow says so."

The woman was powerless to stop the advancing finger, frozen in fear. The mark seared into bear hand and each bead she wore melted into smoke and ash. The fire dwindled, the man left and the woman remained, broken.

2007-09-06T12:36:00.000-07:00

Well as my Creatures stories are hodge podge at best and the most I've blogged lately has mostly been structural (planning, story boards, character design and plot line sculpting) work for 1001, I don't really have much in the way of content. So I've been reading a few other writer blogs, seeing what works in this super short medium and what obviously doesn't. I'm used to detail, twists and turns and though my skill be great(hah!) it is a small petty, thing beside the greatness of my peers, whom tower over us all in their grasp of english and story telling.

So here's what works, I think, and this is what I'll try. Episodes. One constant character in certain situations. The setting will be the creatures universe, and you can rest assured that all the common monsters will be present. Gobs and cans and leafs and drops will all be present in their own ways as our main character strives through situations, a hero beyond imagining. haha should be fun, I'll post soon about this character but for now I will leave you a name: Piper Sorrow. Though he is known by many other names...