the writings and work of John Gunningham

2011-10-21T15:00:00.000-07:00

The stamps are pasted, the envelope sealed tight and on it's way a week before the deadline. My entry for the Canadian Writer's Guild is away! The suspence! The mystery! I'm quite proud of my entry as it's actually one of the few stories I've been able to close (appart from my Piper Sorrow's shorts) This has no prospect of a sequal, it is a one shot, another soemthing that I rarely do. The premise is something that I fear may come to pass: as the world population increases, and as technology increases, a viable solution may be for those that can to retreat into a virtual world, effectively creating warehouses for bodies and decreasing the need for food as the body would need minimum substance to maintain health. In these virtual worlds, people coul have access to unimaginable and fantastic simulations... they could, potentially, have godlike powers within a fake world. How would that effect the human mind? Man was not made for godhood... I suggest it would not end well.

November is only days away now and my next project will be for NaNoWriMo. I skipped last year since I was working on Mynfield Mysteries, a story that has taught me a great deal about the epic. It will continue to teach me for years I imagine... but I see it as manageable and so will eventually finish it. This year, however, I see no reason not to stall Mynfield Mysteries for a month in order to put effort into another project : Mirror Mirror.

This concept was originally suggested to me by an aquaintance and I've toyed with the idea for quite a few years, going so far as working on it with an artist (for just a moment) to see if it was a viable comic idea. Time, anyones enemy, put teh project on hold. But man do I have notes, and ideas and scenes and characters and... well everything that one would normally dump into a story. I've got a good idea where I want the story to go and thanks to MM I've gotten better at making critical decisions that make plots move.

The premise is this : there is a world parallel to ours called Temple, and the inhabitants are created from elements of this world. Courage and valour birth heroes, villiany and malice spawn monsters. Enter the Lost Soul, a being that has been fated to be reencarnated in different beings until it was time to be brought forth once again into Temple. Until that time it would slumber, passive. Wishing to help fate along, the Librarians use a powerful artifact to awaken the Lost Soul early making the life of Dawn, the current vessel of the Lost Soul on earth, very difficult. Drawn into the world of Temple against her will, she must fight to find and save her friends while being hunted at every turn by those that wish different things of the Lost Soul, a power she doesn't understand.

I like the idea of prophesy and doing weird things with it. I'll post the prologue sometime November 1st, since I should be done it by then.

until then, Cheers!

John, the Writer.

2011-09-28T10:28:00.000-07:00

I have a wonderful acquaitance who has led me to beleive in seasons. Not the literal seasons, but more the seasons of the soul, seasons of life. Literally it is Autumn in all it's dying blaze glory, trees lit liike torches in the last furious days of heat before winter awakes to embrace us. I think life wise I am Autumn as well, preparing to weather the winter that is inevitable. This is where my writing is as well.

Mynfield Mysteries is continual, but with my additional course load this semester, progress has slowed. Who knew an English class would have so much writing and reading invovled. I'm nearly a quarter way through the first draft, with planning finished on significantly more. A little a day, it'll get done, but as always my goal of a 100,000 first draft by December will fall short.

I've, then, turned my goals to the slightly less ambitious. There is a short prose contest held annually by the Canadaian Writers Guild with the aim of flushing out those hidden writers among my countrymen. The bait : 2000 and consideration from several magazines. Their yearly catch is varied and skilled. I aim to be among their number this year. I already have a first draft; I'm not one for math but 2500 words sounds smaller than 100,000.

NaNo is coming speedily as well and I think I will attempt it. I have a fun idea. I'll post about it when I have more time.

sadly this post is largely just to keep this blog current. To those that care, I will attempt to post more frequently, as things come to head, so to speak.

Oh I hope they come to head.

John, The Writer.

2011-06-01T08:18:00.000-07:00

Much has happened, and much continues to happen, though things seem to stay much the same. Curious, isn't it? Last night I was tired from life and all the things I WANT to do and all the things I'm REQUIRED to do through my assumed responsibilities and had the thought that the mundane was crushing the wonder in my life. Human beings, wether they know it or not, are wonder starved. So many amazing things surround and premeate our existance on this world that we're lost perspective on wonder itself.

This morning I was more rested, and while biking to work in the glory of a bright new day, I remembered that. Perspective is the only thing separating you from your personal wonder.

I digress.

I wanted to write here because I have not in a long while. It is now the 1st of June of the NEXT year to my last post. Not a full year absent, but half a year. This is what has happened with my writing.

The Prachette contest I missed, though intentionally and I have not given up. I realized teh first draft, or even a second or third revision of the story that was in my hands I was not happy with. I'm using bits of the original, parts and ideas, growing it into something that is actually mystery instead of an attempt at one. I'm trying something new, building the story in an outline first, and then editing the outline until the ideas themselves flow. I've always held that pacing is one of the most important aspects of story telling. Balance and speed. This process I think is helping me become more focused and allowing me to write this larger work without getting disorganized. Some writers, I know, just write. and then revise. and write more. I think I should not allow myself to do that, at least with these larger works.

I won't post here until I'm happy with how the story is unfolding, but I will post updates. By December 31st I hope to have a 100000+ word first draft. I think this is realistic for length of the story I'm hoping to tell. I'm happy with the new begining I've laid out, and I'm happy with the final scene that is in my outline, I'm only missing certain parts in between. I'm following the classic 'mystery' rules of suspects, red herrings and whatnot, though these things I don't have much practice with. It's a learning expierence, to say the least. One that I'll share here, to any and all who care.

John.

2010-11-19T06:43:00.000-08:00

I have been gone from here, and for that I apologize. I have excuses, oh so many excuses, but I fear none of them are valid. Still, I have not been idle. In fact, idleness has utterly eluded me. I dream of being idle, but such dreams are not to be.

Here is what has been happening.

We've moved! And thats working out well.

I've gone back to school! Part time while attempting to continue to work full time! Apparently I'm nuts! So farso good though, the term is nearly finished and next term I only have one class inste ad of three.

Wife is pregnant! So thats an exciting additional thing!

and finally... Mynfield Mysteries.

I've been writing like mad. Mad I tell you! With one goal in mind. This: http://www.terrypratchett.co.uk/news/termsandconditions.html . It means a finished novel of at least 80,000 words length ready to submit by the end of December. To the current instant I have 77967 words completed. Of a very rough first draft. Is it doable? Yes. Is it likely... no. At any rate this will be one of the very few times that I've managed to finish anything. AND that I've ever written anything of this length. So far I'm quite proud of it, and need parts of about three chapters to finish the initial draft. Then editing time. Editing like a mad man. I won't be posting any chapters here, not yet. I will post them after everything's done and rejected ;) If it wins.. well, then I'll post a link to amazon where you can buy the thing.

John, the writer.

2010-03-04T12:40:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update...

We're buying a house. So thats new. It's also time consuming. I think once I get my new office set up I'll be posting more Mynfield Mysteries. Also, in my truest writing fashion, starting again from the beginning. Square one. Just Jonas. The following Novellas will tel the story of Jonas from when he first arives in Arconis, how meets and befriends Carver and Paddy and solves all sorts of crimes. Also he gets underneath the local authorities skins (of course) and generally tries to find out what happened to his family. Who is Jonas Mynfield? Why, just stay tuned to find out!

John, The Writer.

2010-01-18T07:14:00.000-08:00

And here we are. Since so many wait with Bated breath or... haha... hmmm. At any rate Chapter 5, right on time.

This weekend I watched the new Sherlock Holmns movie and since the idea of Jonas was to have him similar to Sherlock and Doctor Who and all the other great detectives who use their minds as their greatest assest, I learned something. Of course, in true John writing style, I haven't actually read any Sherlock and haven't really watched much in the way of his adapted films. So... yeah. Jonas is his own character, and I think if I want to trend him closer to who Sherlock is, I'll need to make it very clear that he knows alot more than most people give him credit for.

Mynfield Mysteries needs stronger characters, more defined characters, characters with enough depth that a reader, once they know them, will be able to tell what the character will do in most situations. Or, when the character does something against their nature then it is an affront to the reader, if that's the desired effect. Once that's in place, stories seem to write themselves, really. I'm striving for that, of course. The only way to create these false people correctly is put them in situations where there are moral choices. I'm starting to understand what sorts of situations those are.

Anyway, first drafts are great for getting things sorted out. I'm getting it sorted out... slowly. Enjoy Chapter five. This one took a while and some editing to get it where I wanted. More to come before the end of the month. Carver gets his own chapter! who wouldn't like that?!

John, the Writer

Chapter Five

"The heat's out again this morning." Carver waddled his way off the lift and into Jonas' labratory. "There's no hot water either and I've got no one sleeping with me to keep me warm, so you want to know what?"
"What's that Carver?" Jonas asked absently. He was bent over a trunk, trying to find a few certain things and not having as much luck as he had hoped. He knew he'd put the solar heater he'd invented somewhere in this trunk, but hadn't he brought it out to impress that Gazo dancer that one time? The one that said that winter in Arconis was a terrible thing and he'd offered to warm her up. She'd called him a sleaze at first, but later she'd called him more flattering things, if he recalled. He remembered her freckles and the way her hips swayed from side to side when she danced, but he couldn't remember where the heater was. Had he given it to her as a gift? Sometimes he did that, his passions often blinded him...
"I'm cold and grumpy." Carver concluded, "now what are you, as landlord, going to do to ensure I don't take my rent check elsewhere?"
"Nothing. I have murder on the mind." Jonas said, taking out a long handled weapon with an end that crackled electricity. He discarded it as fast as he had the three layered belt and the stuffed squirel that ground coffee beans.
"Murder? Who's murder?"
"Mostly my own. Paddy's life hangs mere fractions of inches lower on the scale and at the very, very bottom there's the death of Rupert Taras." Jonas shook his head and closed the trunk, frustrated, "I'm sure that if all the plans that are being plotted run their course there will be others as well, the extra's in this little drama that are, like all good henchman and innocent bystanders, expendable in the eyes of the Taras family. Murders."
"Seems alot to have on the mind," Carver paused, "you mean Rupert Taras the Taras Patriarc?"
"The very same. It seems his childern want him out of the picture and the old boys going to have some sort of deranged sport with them about it. Something like that axe throwing game those old invaders used to play I suppose. Some sort of thrill about cheating death." Jonas moved to a closet, "I will never understand why anyone would want to procreate. Childern end up leaving you, killing you or sticking you in a nursing home agaisnt your will. Anyway, I'm right in the middle of it all."
"Par for course with you." Carver said, nudging what looked to be a toaster oven with blinking eyes with his toe, trying to wake it up.
"Probably going to lose my head over the matter, no matter how it all plays out. Against my will of course."
"Also fairly normal." Carver gave the toaster invention a solid kick.
"Worst is, I could run now, but there's a Von Eskhieser invovled! My own damnable curiosity is getting in the way of my better sense!"
"You know what they say about curiosity and cats." Carver gave up on the toaster when it refused to move and stopped blinking.
"And I can't find my solar heater!"
"Bah! Complain all you want, you're not the one that stepped into the showers this morning expecting a nice blast of hot water and instead getting a taste of the arctic!"
Jonas peered out of the closet at the old man, "I'll do you one better. We leave on an expedition to the Frillda Uplands in one hour. That's the actual arctic, not an Arconis autumn squall."
"Running all over creation, leaving your tenants to freeze in their own beds and you have things you want me to do for you?" Carver crossed all four of his arms, keeping the canes on the ground for support. "I think I should need to be very well compensated."
"I suspected as much," Jonas said grimmly, "while I am not able to attend the boiler myself, I realize that winter is coming. Yohan and Son's pipes and parts has been notified and will be coming when time allows. they've been paid already. In the meantime, this should sufficently warm your old bones." From an end table cluttered with things, Jonas picked up a rose colored bottle with a yellowing lable half peeled off. "It's a good age. I have a few of the good ones left, only for my staunchest friends."
Carver took the bottle hesitantly and stroked the lable flat, peering at the words. He nodded, still grumpy. "A hawat Red, they sell this at Joff's for a fortune per glass. You've got good taste."
"It's one of my many, admirable attributes." Jonas admitted, returning to rooting through the closet for his solar heater.
"And absent mindedness is one of your many unredeemable flaws." Carver said, but he had a small smile on his face. "here, this what you're looking for?"
"Yes, yes it is!" Jonas's face lit up at the large silver disc that Carver picked up off the floor where it had been half buried under an avalanche of pipes and wiring. "Er... how long did you... well no matter, best we don't dwell on such things I suspect." Jonas closed his trunk and tucked the heater under his arm. "Now, I need you to deliver a package, a very important package."
"Deliver? What do I look like, an errand boy?"
"For that bottle, I think I could ask you to be whatever I wanted and you would comply but no, you don't look like a delivery boy, which is exactly the point. You look inconspiceous, and you look old and feeble even though you are not and, most importantly, you are one of the few people that I trust absolutely in this city. I would have sent Paddy but she's coming with me in minutes." Jonas said flatly. He took a brown paper wrapped box from beside him with an envelope fastened securely to the top with packing string. Almost reluctantly he put the package in Carver's outstretched hand. His finger lingered just a moment before he nodded, his mind made up completly and he turned from Carver back to his packing.
"And don't forget," he said over his shoulder, "it is of utmost importance."
"So is my warm shower." Carver grumbled, holding the package up to inspect it. "What is it?"
"It's better that you don't know." Jonas said absently, "now a parka... I know I have one somewhere around here from that trip to Sun's Peak..."
"And who's it going to?"
"The address is on the letter."
"The 'who' part isn't."
"That, my dear man, is on purpose." Jonas said, standing up striaght with a white coat and pants each lined with heavy down, the outsides tough oil sealed leather. "There you are!"
"Hurmph. You and all your secrets, I'll do it though. Not like I have much else going on today." Carver tucked the package under his arm. "When does it have to be delivered by."
"Sooner the better." Jonas said, finally noticing Paddy standing in the doorway. "Ah, Paddy, nearly packed?"
"I was packed a half hour ago. Long underwear and guns." She said stiffly, "mostly long underwear. Pralat females do not do well in the cold, we have cold blood. I'm not looking forward to this trip."
"I did give you the choice to stay behind, you still can."
"Hah!" Carver chuckled, "the heat's out in the building as well, with winter looking like its coming early I imagine this place will be as frozen over as your arctic soon enough."
"I doubt that, Mr Carver." Paddy said, scowling, "if the books I have read are correct, this is the coldest season in the Frillda Uplands. There are wind storms that can strip the flesh off a man in minutes, leave their bones in a frozen heap. What creatures that live there, live deep under the ice in the water or else have thick coats of hair to break the wind. The same can not be said for Arconis."
"Don't fret so much Paddy my dear, the communication I recieved from the Taras' says specifically that the artifact in question is not buried in the ice but in a sheltered area." Jonas said, stuffing the coat and pants into his bag and attempting to close it. He finally succeeded by using a foot and both hands. "There I'm ready to go, the boiler just needs a moments attention. Oh, and here, in case you do start to feel sluggish." Jonas pressed the sloar heater into Paddy's hands. "it's powered by the sun and, you'll find, there is no short supply of that where we're going. It'll warm you right up, I promise. If you are still resolute to accompany me."
Paddy looked at it a moment and then nodded, a rare smile crossing her lips, "Thank you. You are considerate to think of my needs. I will follow you, Jonas Mynfield, unto the very ends of the earth, thus is our contract."
"Well, you're not so much going to the end of the earth as to the top of it." Carver said, he waved the package over his head, "I'll get this little bundle delivered, I'll even drink to you health. Best you both come back alive, I don't want to run this place by myself." He waddled towards the lift and slammed the cage door down with a thump.
"Oh, one more thing Carver." Jonas said through the cage bars
"More?"
"If the police come calling, asking for me, tell them I'm just out for a moment and will likely be back any hour."
"What?"
"They don't know I'm leaving the city." Jonas explained. "There was that little incident with the giant turtle the other day, you remember? The Paloscia family was very nice and paid a few people to make the charges less, but Fairweather isn't the sort to be bought off."
Carver snorted, "so you're required to stay in the city?"
"No, I'm required to keep my head attached." Jonas said, tapping his temple, "the best to do that, for now, is to not defy Randal Taras. His offer could not have been refused. The worst the police can do is jail me, the worst our beloved Taras can do is nigh unimaginable."
"And I'm to say you're out to the store quick, is that it?"
"No, you're to say you have no idea where I am, and that will be partly the truth, if you want to get into specifics. Frillda is a very, very large expanse." Jonas winked.
Carver shook his head, "you're lucky I don't mind some antics. Had my own trouble with the law when I was a youth. Mostly disorderly conduct."
"That's not surprising." Paddy said dryly.
"There was a protest and me and the lads got to thinking it'd be a good idea to chain ourselves to the gates."
"Err, right. That always works until they get out the bolt cutters." Jonas said, then added, "or just order the bulldozers on."
"Heh, we thought of that, being smart lads. We put a strong current through the chain and grounded ourselves with rubber overalls and copper line. You should have seen the first officer who tried to cut that chain!" Carver cackled, "lit him up like a Poxard sky rocket we did!"
"I suppose that means your protest was a success?"
"well, not in so many words." Carver scratched his chin, "it was a good way to waste an afternoon that ended us up with a month of hard labor. The look on that afficer's face though, well worth it in my opinion. Plus it was a big hit with the girls, called us 'just maytres'. Well worth the time spent, well worth the time spent."
"So you'll do it?"
"I'll be as ignorant as a rock." Carver said, "but it'll probably cost you another bottle."
"Most likely I have another one," Jonas said, "it's yours when I get back."
"Very good, happy trails Mynfield, Paddy. Try not to die!" And the lift shuddered down, the short man disappearing in the dark.
"He is an interesting man." Paddy observed, "it does not take much to set him off. Often I wonder why he stays."
"Because he's bored." Jonas said, "He's a hundred or so odd years old, the University made him retire even though he was one of the best theoretical combined sciences men they had, and now he stays here because we keep him interested. He'd never admitt it but that little delivery job I just sent him on will be the highlight of his day."
"And what is it you are having him deliver?"
Jonas smiled, "insurance." He said simply trying in vain to lift his overstuffed trunk. "Err.. would you mind giving me a hand with this? Oh... well I could help too but, ok, thank you, Paddy."
The Taras car came early, that was expected. There was also a small bit of fan fair that Jonas hadn't expected. Mrs Moore had found out from Mrs Tump on second floor that Jonas was leaving on an expedition and had proceeded to tell Talas and Atticus Harvington that there should be a little send off, since Mr Mynfield was so adored by his occupants. Carver made an appearance as well, as much to get a glass of Mrs Tump's lemonaid as anything else.
"Still want me to keep the cops guess there Mynfield?" Carver asked with a wicked grin.
"No, I suspect the issue is now moot." Jonas muttered, trying to help Paddy load his trunk into the car. If any watch detachments had been assigned to watch his apartments, then likely they would surmise that Jonas was leaving the city and not heading to the grocers for eggs and bacon. Of course there was a chance that Jonas had been placed on the mystic survielance list as well, and no amount of petty lies would trick a member fo the third eye. Jonas sighed, finished loading the luggage and had a cookie and cup of lemonaid before getting in the car.
"That was interesting." Paddy said, "and uncalled for."
"It's not like you can turn the water hose on them," Jonas said, hesitantly waving as the car pulled away from the curb, "as much as you'd like to some days. Their hearts are in the right place, they're just not the right minds for covert opperations."
"How did they know you were leaving?"
Jonas shrugged, "I haven't the foggiest."
The car was not one of the black coaches that royals were wont to ride in, but instead a plain red one of older make driven by a cabby with a cigar that spoke very little. What he did say was hard for Jonas to understand, his words covered all over by a thick accent. It took nearly half the trip before Jonas was able to discern it.
"You're maltenis, correct?"
"Ja ja, yoo kno eh? No on' kno 'ere." The cabby plucked the cigar out of his mouth and grinned, white teeth in a face as black as obsidian.
"I'm very good with accents," Jonas said, leaning back in his seat. "Do you know where we are going?"
"Yoo no kno? Hah! Fun!" He fell silent.
"And you're not going to tell us where we're going, are you?" Jonas ventured.
"Hah, and roon fun? Hah!" The cabby stuck the cigar back in his mouth and continued driving, snickering every now and again at whatever inner dialog was kept him entertained in a city that couldn't understand him. At times he would shout what sounded like curses out the window as he took corners too fast and cut other drivers off expertly. His driving was perfect but rash. Jonas felt strangely safe in the car and felt a small amount of pitey for those that chanced to meet this black man on the streets unprepared.
The cab wound its way through the city, back past Steph Downing and their tall houses and into the market district. The morning was loud and colorful, as it always was, with the few trees and flowers in the market squares looking orange and colorful in the brisk air. It was fish season and the air was cull of cries of "Artic Tapar, Artic Tapar! Fresh from the sea last morning!" and "Clams, spur fish and crabs, just in from Alberic and Sin-Sin." The cabby had the window open and the thick cool air was full of clinging smells.
"Tis remin me o hom." The cabby said suddenly, "th fish." Then he fell silent again.
They were headed towards the docks, Jonas had surmised a while ago, but not the close end. The car was driving down Saint Jamis Drive, parallel to the bay. Wealthy estates lined the drive, those that had interests in the docks and shipping, merchants and some more hands on royals had property on Jamis Drive, the high walls and large houses tall enough to peer over the warehouses and out to the water where their money was invested. All that could be seen of the estates from the drive was black iron fences, vicious dogs and the tops of peaked roofs. The cabby drove onward and out past the water's edge; leaving the bay behind. Where ever the cabby was driving, it wasn't to the docks.
The red car exited sharply off Siant Jamis drive and ducked under a small bridge and into a factory area of town, driving down streets with names like 'GridIron' and 'Textile Ave.' The beuatiful houses of Saint Jamis melted abruptly to low income housing where factory workers lived and then grew into towering mills and warehouses with smoke stacks spewing heavy grey. The traffic turned from cars to old trucks and heavy haulers, even the animals had gotten bigger. They carefully passed a massive six legged behemoth being driven by a crew of dozens of men, the beast and it's handlers all heavy set and covered in scars from their labors. It was many more minutes through the industrial sector before the caby pulled up at a heavily guarded gate and produced a pass for the guards to scan before proceeding inside. The gate had a blue and black sign over top of it that read "Banning Industries" in bold font. There was graffiti and dirt on the heavy stone fence and on the buildings surrounding the gate, but the sign was pristine. Jonas watched the armored gates close in through the back window.
the cabby didn't speed here as he shared the road with giant wagons rolling on rails set into the street and armored tanks. Grim and heavy set men loaded trucks with machinery and parts as armed escorts lined up to transfer the convoys out of Banning's halls. Banning held several of the governement's arms contracts and drafted many top university graduates into its research corps, making it one of the leaders in combined sciences. Jonas looked through the window with curious eyes, wondering what secrets might hide behind those doors. There was itch behind his left ear when they passed a very secure looking building within the compound that had a lab sign on it's door.
"That's where they make automatic life systems." He breathed as the car slid past, "the labs behind those doors! the resources at their disposal! Do you know they call that facility the Mute Office? Since no one who goes in can speak outside the building. There's a powerful mystic device that captures their voice and only releases it when they return to work!"
"All you can say is things about your silly toys?" Paddy said, her voice tense.
"Hmm, you're right, of course." jonas mused, "it does rather feel like we've entered down the throat of the beast."
"I don't like it." Paddy said, "they have many more guns than me and employ governement troops. If it comes to a fight, we will not win."
The cabby glanced backwards again and chuckled more. Jonas raised an eyebrow and suspected that their driver was not as lingiustically impaired as he had first thought. That or he found life as a whole extremely amusing. It would be rather like a deaf man watching a horror show that seemed fake and funny without the screams. That or the cabby was an excellent spy.
"There won't be a fight, we are under contract." Jonas said, "and thus under the Tara's protection for so long as our services are needed. I suspect we've come this way to throw off pursuit. It would have cost alot for that pass, but the Banning family prides itself on secrecy. No follower could come this way, and no Banning employee can be bought. Even the lowest hand is completely loyal to the Banning family, its why they're so successful." Jonas said, thoughtfully. "Am I getting close cabby?"
"Hah!" the cabby responded and pulled over and into an underground driveway, coming up abruptly in a garage set beside a set of train tracks. On the tracks was a frieght train with six bleak looking cars and one rear car with a turret on it. The cars and engine all looked armored with heavy steel and engraved stripes of rune sign, ensuring protection to those inside from standard as well as mystical means.
"We're departing by train from Banning industries?" Jonas said quietly, no longer trusting their driver.
"Is that important?"
"Heavens yes! I didn't know that Taras and Banning families were working together. They've never been rivals, as far as I know, but they've never been allies either. This is too large a favor for simply money, Banning must be after the something else, the artifact perhaps? It has military potentail, to be sure." Jonas tapped his chin, "I suspect that we shall see things get even more complex before the day is through."
When they exited the car, a man was there to meet them.
"Jonas Myfiled and Padilla Nimmers-Sach?" the man said, it was the same steward from the business lunch. Now he wore a long overcoat with brass buttons in two rows down his front. It was shapeless and Jonas imagined that all manner of deadly devices could be hidden in it's depths. That was fine. He'd brought his own arsanal, in the form of a very dedicated woman with a bag full of guns and long underwear.
"Present and accounted for." Jonas said as cheerily as he could in the chilly garage.
"Excellent. I am Mr. Bullsmith, Master Ronald's stewart. Mr Mynfield, we met briefly, if you remember. Padilla, it is a pleasure. Please, this way, if you would."
The Stewart led the two of them up onto the platform and towards the first car in the train. The last car of the train was being loaded as they watched, with crates and
wooden pallets tarped down tight. From one of the other rear cars a soldier was leaning out and having some last minute words with a foreman standing on the platform. Their words were lost in the sounds of the train releasing steam, a mournful whistle. Jonas didn't have time to stop and try and lip read, Bullsmith was forging on towards their car.
"You can leave your bags on the platform." Bullsmith said, "they will be taken care of."
"There's only the two." Jonas said, wrestling with his trunk and attempting a smile "I think we'll take them carry on, if thats ok."
"As you wish." The stewart said, then opened the door for them.
"This is it my dear Paddy," Jonas whispered to his companion, "we dive into the belly of the beast."
"It's my favorite part." Paddy muttered back, a small smile on her face.
"Just don't do anything rash, these are royals. Let me do most of the talking."
"Agreed."
The two acsended the short ladder. Jonas had to blink when he entered the train car, then a small smile spread over his face. The inside of the train car was easily three times larger than physical possible from the dimensions of the outside.
"It's got a spacial distortion engine! I've seen the theory, but never one put into practice in such difficult situation, the power demands alone must be astromomical! And the spacial matrixes, to realign in realtime on a moving object, the cortex must be very advanced!" He said out loud, jaw nearly on the floor, "I must see how it works!"
"Maybe later." Paddy muttered from behind him, pulling his trunk and her duffle bag easily up the ladder
Jonas was suddenly aware that his outburst had drawn the attention of every eye in the passanger car, most had a skeptical gleam to them but some had a bemused glimmer. He striaghtened his collar and stood up striaghter.
"Err... later of course..."
The entrance was elegantly arched and carved with trees and wooden nymphs that held up the roof with outstretched hands. Coat closets and luggage racks were hidden cleverly behind mirrored doors that reflected the small wooden glade into a limitless forest. Past the entrance was a billard room and a bar on one side, coaches on the other. The roof was a crystal sky light that streamed in bright sunshine even though Jonas knew that if he were to climb atop the car he would not be able to peer inside, not to mention the fact that they were underground. What they could see of the train car was lavish and designed to be the utmost comfort and there were further closed doors wrought in the same picturesque style of the arch. There was no telling how far the train car went.
Ronald Taras cleared his throat from where he stood with cue in hand near the billard table.
"Mynfield. Good, you're here." He raised an eyebrow at the bags. "the servants did not relieve you of your luggage? I shall have Bullsmith whip them."
"Oh no, this is carry on. Books and such. Its a long ways to Frillda, I'd rather have them with me." Jonas said with a smile, stepping past the archway so Paddy had room to manuevor.
"Oh Mr Mynfield, you needn't have worried about books." Samantha Taras was lounging with several other women on a couch, "I'm sure you'll find our library very well stocked. Why just yesterday I was browsing through and found a copy of Witless Exploits. It's such a clever read."
The siblings looked much as they had when Jonas had met them previous. Randal wore stark blacks, though this time in a heavier weight, no doubt in preparation for the cold to come. His expression was unchanged, suspicious and hard even in the midst of his most trusted friends. Friends or enemies, Jonas reminded himself, a man as smart as Randal keeps his enemies close. As Jonas smiled towards Samantha he had a sudden thought. Perhaps that's why the Taras siblings stay so close, they might see each other as rivals. Samantha is the dangerous one. Jonas remembered the words of the elder Taras.
Most of the others in the train car were unknown to Jonas, as well two of the ladies had their backs to Jonas as they sat on the ring of couches. Ronald's opponent at the billiard table was a square jawed man in military uniform, the rank of captain pinned to his green jacket. His hair was cut short and there was a cowboyish manner to him; a boy who was playing at soldier but had yet to lift a gun in self defense or anger. Likely his rank had been bought and this was an errand for someone or a favor called in by Randal.
"This is Guy Havoc, of the University Military detachment. He and his squad will be accompanying us to the site to oversee protection." Randal said, "he is a friend of the family."
Guy took his shot at the pool table, knocking a green ball and a pink ball into two separate pockets, he stood with a grin on his face, "good to meet you Mynfield. Heard alot about you, most of it wonderful stuff. We'll have to compare notes, you and I, over some drinks. The trip is long, I'm sure we can find the time."
"I'm sure, yes. looking forward to it, very much." Jonas smiled back, unsure of why Ronald would bring a captain on this voyage.
"My sweet sister has already announced herself, and she has brought a few companions along as well." Randal said, dismissing them as if they were insignificant. It made sense, to a man like Randal women were probably only good for one thing; possibly not even that given the man's tenancy to frown. Jonas had a hard time imagining him with any other expression much less a happy one.
"Randal, you never were a gracious host. Always business. Here, introductions are in order Mr. Mynfield. I'm sure they've heard of you, but since you aren't familiar with societies inner circles anymore, you won't have met them I don't think."
"No I don't suppose I would have..." Jonas said. In truth it had been ages since he had attended a gala or art showing by accident or invitation. There had been a time when the presence of Jonas Mynfield had been manditory for any guest list, but those days were saddly over. The only circles he was familiar with were those that requested his services, and very rarely were the requesters young high born women, the present situation excluded of course.
Samantha looked radiant and wore a tight fitting jacket with an open collar, with a simple brown and white patterned skirt with no layering, hoops or petticoats of any kind. Jonas had never been a fan of a dress too complex for a man to operate, and silently applauded her choice. She's the dangerous one. The words came back to Jonas. They echoed there a while and went a fair ways to chilling his thoughts of her.
"I've brought friends with me, as well." Samantha said, "I sorely wanted to come, but feared for boredom. These wonders submitted to accompany me. There's only so much billiards I can stand to watch. First allow me to introduce Mary Blando. Mary is working at an entrance paper to the university and thought this the perfect chance to get fieldwork into her resume. She's a Happen-Blando, from the island. Her parents are second in line to inherit Millship Air."
"How do you do?" Mary asked politely, her mouth not bothering to smile.
The girl could not have been much older than Samantha, and was probably younger. Her hair was red and but her demeanor spoke of none of the fiery personality that often went with the color. Her features were elfin and fine, her skin porcelain. Her eyes matched her hair, seeming to blaze and crackle like embers when she looked at him. The effect was unnerving. She already had a long parka on, fur lined and white with the hood pulled back and the front undone. Underneath a plain navy shirt with green trim could be seen, complete with pants of the same coloring. A very studious look, Jonas thought, but the cut was tailored and he knew it was aof fine quality.
"Very well, so far." Jonas said, "it's always a pleasure to meet another acedemic. What's your major?"
"I haven't yet decided." Mary said, "but I suppose if I was to choose this instant, theoretical physics would win out over engineering."
"Mary, you're too modest." Samantha gushed, "Mary, here, graduated the top of her class from Bluebell Academy, full science honors. She's a prodigy! More than likely she'll be double majoring."
Mary's mouth twitched at that, a small hint of a smile. "Perhaps." Was all she said.
"Either way, we shall have to engage in discussions." Jonas said, "I find myself fearfully devoid of educated conversation as of late." Behind him, Paddy scowled.
"Oh Mary will talk your leg off, if you get her going. I'm sure you'll both have alot to talk about." The last woman interupted, standing to introduce herself. "I'm Sansha. Sansha Evering. Yes of those Everings. Don't beelive everything you hear, about half of it is absolute rubbish and the other half is greatly exaggerated. Why, the story about father and Uncle Herb and that business down in Camjing Hills is just ludicreous, mother would never stand for it, for one, and for the other, father was away on sahari that whole summer! He's got the Cat hides to prove it, filthy things!"
She was ample in the body, boardering on plump with long lengths of brown curls that cascaded down her back and all over her shoulders. Her dress was heavy and embroidered with a scene of flowers, the vines crawling up her stomache and embracing her significant bodice. There was a laughing quality in her eyes and all the energy that her friend, Mary, lacked. It was evident that this one had fun with life and lived in abundance as well as spoke in abundance. The Evering name, as Sansha had eluded to, was one steeped in controversary. They were very old money and had very few active investments with which to occupy their time. A bored royal was what the dime papers loved, and every other week an Evering seemed to make their way tot he front page, photographed with some street walker, or found drunk in an alley lacking pants.
"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr Mynfield. I save clippings from the paper as to adventurers and what not, it seems I have as many clippings of you as I do of anyone." She said, talking fast, "When you're talking with Guy, I think I might listen in, not to interupt you understand, just to listen. I simply love good stories."
"You interupt? Perish the thought." Mary said dryly. Sasha made a face at her and then returned to Jonas, who stood just a little shell struck.
"And I see you've brought a companion of your own?" Samantha asked.
"Er, yes, yes!" Jonas shook his head, "forgive my manners, as you say it's been ages since I've been in good company. Allow me to introduce my dear companion, Padilla Nimmers-Sach."
Paddy bowed her head in a small bow, it was all she could manage under the wieght of the luggage she was carrying. Samantha was as pleasant as always but the other girls she had brought had small frowns on their faces. Guy had a strange smile on his face as he rubbed his jaw and took her in.
"I hope they're not too dear of companions," Jonas heard Sansha say under her breath and was suddenly accutely aware that the way Sansha was looking at him was usually how he wanted a woman to look at him. In this case, under these circumstances, he wasn't so sure he could afford further complication. But, he reasoned with himself, if you're dead anyway, may as well make it an enjoyable death. There would be worse things that Jonas could think of than being stuck on a train with three beautiful women. Of course, the loviest of those women was also a diabolical Royal...
"A Pralat." Randal said flattly, starting Jonas back from his day dream. "I've heard alot about your people, I've read alot about you Mrs Nimmers-Sach. I'm delighted to finally meet you."
Paddy looked to Jonas a moment. He nodded with a shrug and she responded, "Yes, I am from Pralat." Then as if she thought there should be more she said, "I'm pleased to meet you all."
"And a fine upstanding citizen she's been in Arconis the past dozen or so years. Military service, business in the water markets, every sort of interesting thing you can imagine!" Jonas injected.
"Military service eh?" Guy said, jaw still in hand. It seemed he had forgotten about the game of billards that he'd been losing. "You don't say. Tell me, what unit did you serve under?"
Again Paddy looked to Jonas before responding and didn't say anything until she received a nod.
"I server five years in Arconis armed forces, 5th regiment. The next ten years I served special forces under Admiral Ca'Dil." She said stiffly.
"We'll have to talk about that, sounds like some more good stories." Guy smiled.
"And I'll, of course, need to listen in." Sansha said quickly, fluttering her eyes at Guy and smiling her ample smile, "not to interupt of course, only to listen. I love stories." Mary rolled her eyes.
From the front of the train car a man in a conductor's uniform pushed through a heavy metal door. He stood at rigid attention the starched lines of his uniform falling striaght down this lank body. Black bush eye brows perched atop deep sunken dark eyes and a majestic moustach perched atop his lip. The uniform was in the red and gold of the old rail road companies, he was a relic in this day of aircraft, just liek the train. Randal nodded his greeting to the man.
"It appears we're ready to be under way. Very well conductor." Randal nodded at the man, who returned the nod and left the way he'd come.
"Quiet fellow, isn't he?" Jonas said pleasantly.
"He's trained in the old ways of conducting." Randal said, "he doesn't speak unless it is to command. He can not command us, we are his betters, so he remains quiet. Now, the servants will take your bags and show you to your rooms. I assure you they are quite comfortable."
"I gave up the second master suite for the both of you," Sansha said brightly, "though I can switch back if you'd rather. I'm easy like that. Anything you want to do, just suggest and I'm sure we can come to an agreement."
"Er, I'm sure it's fine." Jonas said, smiling back as confidently as he could, "Is this all your guests then?" He directed the last to Randal.
Randal shook his head, "no there are four more. One of Captain Havoc's leuteinants is staying in this car, though he is starting the voyage in the barracks to ensure that the troops are settled."
"His name's Bradoc," Guy put in, "he'll replace me as captain soon I'm thinking." There was a smug look on his face as if it ahd already been decided.
"Bullsmith of course is here, though he is a servant and not a guest." Samantha said, "and then professor Minx and his two lab assistants. They're in the Orange room. Overall they're more suited to lecture halls and labratories than social situations."
"Still," Jonas said, "It would be rude not to meet them, at the least, and to be introduced. It would be frightful to bump into them and not know a name to place on the man. This train can't be that large, can it?" he raised an eyebrow and Sansha bubbled over with laughter. Randal eyed him suspiciously. Jonas was still missing one important person in teh puzzle. If elements fo the Banning family were in league with the Taras siblings, then where was the Banning man? Or Woman?
Samantha smiled, "it's not as large as some people seem to think it is."
"Sorry, I'm sorry for laughing, inside joke," Sansha wiped at her eyes.
"It's a standard expansion modual," Mary said matter of factly, as if that explained everything. Luckily, for Jonas, it did explain everything. He nodded.
"Ah, I see. Well, then, I guess there is some chance I won't run into them by accident."
The servants had come by that point and Jonas discreetly singaled to Paddy that it would probably be best to reliquish their bags without coming to fisticuffs with the serving people. Jonas was always amazed at how often he needed to make that signal. About the same time there was a very faint whistle and the train car shuddered. Sansha squeeled with delight.
"An adventure! We're off on a real, honest to goodness adventure!" She clapped her hands together and then pulled Mary to her feet, "I want to sit and watch the countryside for a while, come with me won't you?"
Helpless to hinder her, Mary was forced along and down one of the halls. Jonas nodded, an adventure. right. Just as helplessly, Paddy and he were being forced along those tracks.
"We're underway Mynfield," Guy said, hoisting a bottle, "care for a drink?"
"I'd love one."

2009-12-30T06:36:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all!

Our Christmas was busy and interesting, with some family drama in a family that usually has no drama at all. Overall it was good, and overall I'm happy. Strangely enough, I'm happy its over with as well and looking forward to using the dull drum months of winter to good effect towards project work. I'm fairly excited to see what the new year brings.

It's a new Century you know, whatever that means for you (it actually means nothing, but sometimes just the thought that it should is enough to inspire people) and I, for one, am excited.

Some of it is personal, like the prospect of being able to move into a larger dwelling which will allow me a proper office, something I've never really had. My current workspace is in a small area between our kitchen and our living room, where I have to turn my music down and be interupted by things on TV if my wife is home.

My bold vison for an office sees a loft above the house with desks for working and shelves for comics and books and enough space to properly display my vast collection of Mechwarrior minatures as well as a work bench for painting Warmachine minatures (something I've always wanted to try). Also a proper gaming machine to replace my aging six your old tower. It has heating problems. This is my dream, I'm not sure if it will be realized, but I'm straining to make it so.

For writing projects, I really feel as if I have a solid editing method now, an editing method that I've been applying to Mynfield Mysteries and seems to be working. I plan on also applying this method to One Thousand One, a process that I've already begun.

I achieved my Nano goals, something I'm pretty proud of. Unfortunately it wasn't until the end of the month that I looked back and saw how much of the story was actually usable. I might say half, but that could be very generous. The good, amazing, thing is that I have a much better understanding of the story now and the editing process will proceed nicely with that in mind. Unfortunately some of the chapters need to be re-written completely, but I'm ok with that. Some chapters need to be deleted since they don't progress the story in any measurable way. I'll get through it. My goal is to have a full second draft that has continuity by the end of the year. With what I already have, I think that is very doable. I understand it will be alot of work.

Mynfield Mysteries is progressing nicely as well, and since the story is simpler, I think it's actually turning out better than One Thousand One. So far anyway.

Anyway, that's project news and life news. I'll get back to my 1 or 2 chapter of Mynfield Mystery posting's a month pretty soon. I just need to figure out where I left off.

Have a safe and Enjoyable New Years!

John.

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...

2007-07-08T09:14:00.001-07:00

I doodled this in about 20 minutes haha, just a weird idea I had:

“It’s my turn! Harvey did it last week, Shae the week before its my turn to feed the master!”
“Is not, its mine.”
“Oh and whys that? Cause you’re bigger?”
“That’s right, that’s the rule of the Gob, bigger is better.”
“Well I’s smarter, you wouldn’t want to be saying the wrong thing to the master would you?”
“I wouldn’t say anything!”
“Well that could be the wrong thing, right? Say the Master wants a little light conversation while he’s eating. Say he says to you ‘how’s the weather up top and outside?’ or ‘let’s debate on the current state of the Markets’ Asks you a simple question like that. I don’t trust you not to say something stupid!”
“I hardly ever say anything stupid, ‘sides, you don’t know how to debate the current state of any market!”
“No, but I could pretend like I did. I could say something like ‘oh its been one of those years, hasn’t it master?’. That’s what I’d say, and you wouldn’t. That makes me smarter than you.”
“How’s about I thump your skull until you’re as dumb as you say I am then? How’s that for a solution?”
“I don’t think I like that…”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t, here give us the food and I’ll let you be. I’ve been here 6 months, I want my promotion.”
“I’ve heard good things about the promotion, that’s what I really want.”
“I know it! Everyone who feeds the master gets to live up top and work in the palaces, they never have to come here again!”
“They get good jobs, not our sorts of jobs, its true if what they say is true.”
“They never come visit either… so I want to get out! Give us the food before I thump you!”
“I know! We’ll do a bit of gambling, that way it’ll be fair! We’ll toss coins for it!”
“This isn’t a trick is it?”
“I don’t want to get thumped…”
“Right then, I’ve got two coins, I’ll be evens you be odds. Here goes…”
Pause
“Aha! Odds! I win!”
“Well maybe next week I can, come visit us a little if you get time?”
“Yes… yes I’ll come visit a little. Well, wish me luck!”
“You don’t need it, you are very smart, but luck anyhow.”
“Thanks!”
The passage to the master was long and low, but getting lighter with every step the small Gob took. A red fire burned like a never ending furnace in the master’s chamber, in the master himself. The passage ended and the Gob stood on a ledge overlooking a vast glittering pile of gold and treasure. Upon the top of it sat the master, a red wyrm coiled countless times, fire spouting from his nose and mouth, lighting the whole expansive room.
“Food yer Masterfulness.” The Gob exclaimed.
The master moved lightning quick, snapping up the gob in hi maw and downing the basket of garnish in one quick bite.
“Hmmm food, yes, barely. Must look into getting a maiden sometime soon.” And the master settled in for a week long nap.

2007-06-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

I hate ranting about movies.. which is odd because I do it so often. But A few little points about Fantastic 4: rise of the silver surfer. I like that they kept it true to the source, or at least fairly true to the source. The bickering between the team had a very family feel to it, the events, teh characters, you could believe that would be how they'd act. And really, I can't complain about most of the acting, it was well done for the material they were given.

HOWEVER, does all that make a good movie? Well.. I guess not. I really beleive that the second suffered for much the same reasons as the first movie, but because the first movie had the benifit of the origins story and teh second one only had the benifit of the wedding... well lets face it, an origins story line will win out over a simple wedding theme every time. Couple that with an anti climatic ending annnnddd.. well yeah.

Basically I was expecting a blockbuster and what was presented was something I might watch on TV. Anyway, it was decent but wasn't in the greats of movies as far as I'm concerned. Silver Surfer was pretty cool ;)

oookkk that aside, I'm working on a few little things that I should post later this week. I'm basically rewriting 1001 and then working on a little side project at work when I have a few spare minutes. I'll more than likely post my FINISHED 1001 prologue and the first bit of my work doodling in subsequent days. Until then! adios ;)

John.

2007-05-01T14:23:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update ( cause they're easy! )

Josh and I putting the final spit and polish on our Comic "Thistles" this morning, mere hours before it needed to be sent in to editor. It is finished and I feel great about it. The story is one of my better ones and I'd say Josh's art is as good as its ever been too. As this is the first close to full length comic for both of us, its really been a learning expierence and was invaluable from an artists perspective.

That said, if you see Parable in your local book store / comic shop, pick up a copy to at least thumb through. Thistles should be right there, a gem among a hoard of artistic treasures (seriously there is alot of solid, solid talent in this little anthology, and theres something for everyone I think)

John, the writer.

2007-04-30T12:55:00.000-07:00

These heros they rise and these heros they fall...

Hey,

so this is odd eh? Two postings in a month? I have to say I'm weirded out too, but in a good way. Its a fuzzy weird that warms the stranger parts of my stomach (now that isn't gross at all...) now on to other things.

This is more of a "hmm" post than any kind of story, unfortunately. (though I think this thought will lead into a story at some point, we'll see). This "hmm" has to do with superheros and, more specifically, spiderman 3 that hits theaters everywhere this weekend. It has me worried, honestly, I'm worried, and heres the reason why.

There are a few writing techniques that a writer might employ to keep a series like this going. When a film hits the third installment, it has to have something that the first two didn't or else your audience is going go feral and start fires in anger. you have to keep the story fresh. Alot of the time that means adding more. New characters, new plot new twists and new settings. It appears that spiderman 3 plans to use the first two. (NOTE: continuing storyline is another thing that keeps a trilogy rolling, and spiderman franchise uses those wonderfully. Not in a Lord of the Rings sort of story arc, but subtly in the character relationships and certain events.)

We've seen in x-men that cramming as many classically cool characters and story lines as possible into a film is not a winning combination. There hits a point of confussion. S3 plans on three villians, sandman, venom and the Hob-Goblin. I'm worried that its too much. Saying that, the themes that come with these characters are extremely similar. Harry needs revenge for his father, peter is looking for revenge for his uncle and, well, we all know what Venom is about: a creature born for revenge.

Can the directing staff balance these characters? I'm honestly not sure. History says yes, the previous installments have been wonderfully imagined and recreated for the big screen. That said there has never been three villians, each big enough to carry his own movie. Add to that mix Spiderman's inner demons he must resolve all the while romancing MJ and getting sage advice from Aunt May.

Its a big film full of big ideas and alot of larger than life characters. So much so that it has fan boys drooling. I want to say this movie will be amazing, I really want to. And it could be. It has potential to be greater than the previous two, it could surpass any other superhero movie ever created! It could! But after a disappointment like xmen 3, where the CGI was amazing and the story was a confusing hodge podge of dribble strained from one of the richest superhero worlds in existance, I hesitate. Pheonix, Magneto, Beast(finally!), angel, collosus, juggernaut... how could have they went wrong? But they did.. and S3 could too.

Thus I hesitate and thank goodness for teh interweb where I can post my thoughts where they will be lost among the hundreds of thousands others.

End thought one.

I actually had another thought, that is similar but at the same time not. How does a new writer create a new hero? Think about the attempts recently and compare them to the household names. Highschool high? That wasn't a serious SH flick. Zoom... not up to speed. Mystery men? Again a comedy. You can stretch the defination and go to characters like Riddick but he doesn't really fit. You could say "the incredibles" but thats animated. Most current blockbuster films are going to comic books to get their heros. I can't blame them. Rise of the Silver Surfer? Of course I'm going to go see it, and it wouldn't matter what story they pick or if they decide that the best way to beat him is with a clown army. Its the silver surfer! Might as well be the golden surfer, its a no brainer when it comes to ticket sales.

I think thats the trouble. You would need a good character, and I mean really good. And your story has got to be tight, so tight it starts to restrict circulation. But on top of that you need to break through the "whos that?" Because your character will not be superman, he won't cling to walls and he won't ride a flaming bike. Also, unfortunately I would say a huge percentage of the good powers are taken. Flying, shooting fire and freezing junk have all been taken by about a dozen other characters. Original superhero models are hard to come up with, so on top of everything else you have to break the "pffft that guy's just like daredevil, spiderman, iceman, pyro, xavier..." the list goes on to infinite.

bottom line. Original superhero = tough. Therefore I want to try it. Stay tuned for a few shorts about heros and, possibly, maybe something a little longer about the "Returners". Except I'm not allowed to start anything new until I have something finished... so off to work on 1001 :) still, short stories are good breaks... haha. until next time!

John, the Writer

2007-04-12T15:32:00.000-07:00

Huzzah! The victory shall go to the swift... oh, nuts...

Hi everyone who still reads this from time to time. I've put some effort into another 'Creatures' story and really the only thing its helped me figure out is that I need to define this world and this style of writing a little more. Its mostly inspired by the art over at http://www.messs.cc/ and I guess the best words for it would be 'Surreal' and 'minimalist' That said, I know its not for everyone but I think with a bit more work and alot more of the igredient known as plot, this world could survive. I know it will have to lose the minimalistic appraoch for it to make any kind fo sense but for now, I give you "Clumsy: creatures number two" Soon perhaps I'll take you all to the Barrens in a more orderly and detailed way, but for now I kinda like how this piece turned out. Enjoy.

~Clumsy~

“It’s the Gob’s fault. Always the Gob’s fault. They’re clumsy with everything. Life needs finesse, life needs style. Gobs are too clumsy, too …”
“They smell too.”
“See? Everything about them is clumsy. Their smell even. Clumsy clumsy clumsy, can’t even dance. Can’t even sing… Gobs… Gobs… Gobs… no good, no good…”
“No good at magiks.”
“Right! Magiks! They’re no good at that either, its cause they’re too clumsy… too clumsy for it. You need grace, style; magiks need style and grace. There’s a flow, you need a flow for life too. Gobs are too clumsy for the flow, they don’t flow.”
“Don’t know what she sees in him, I just don’t.”
“Gah! …”
Bartender Hjen looked up from his station, eyes winking slowly, one at a time.
“You shouldn’ta said that… life is cycles, everything goes round. He was almost done the cycle, the crying cycle. Now he’ll start again.” The last eye blinked and the bartender turned to get another mug to wipe. “not healthy ta start another cycle before the first ones done, now there’s two cycles, none of them finished. How’s he gonna heal with two cycles spinning and nowhere to go?”
Lilin shook his head, “you sure you weren’t a sage?”
“They don’t let me in the library.”
“How do you know about cycles then? Huh?”
Hjen shrugged, “talent for it I guess. They’re obvious, cycles are.”
“I suppose. Still… I don’t understand them.”
“Natural for me, life’s full of cycles if you watch careful.”
“You’d be a naturalist then?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“For a Gob! She left me for a Gob!”
Lilin’s companion of drinking was not the center of the bar’s attention, but neither was he unwatched by the other creatures that drank their private poisons. It was difficult for the patrons of “The battered Warrior” to decide which was more entertaining, the drama of a Shrub who had lost his girl to a Gob or the two Drops who were dancing on the tops of tables, lacy wings beating lazily in their stupor. The age old argument of Comedy versus Tragedy had reared its head and was being unconsciously debated between the patrons. A typical day at the Warrior, such as any day is typical.
The Warrior stood hunched in the middle of the Barrens, an area of vast plains and sudden cliffs. It had once been a machine of war, a metal man of sorts with sunken eyes in a hunkered chest and four great arms. In whatever battle that had ended its life, the warrior had been struck to the ground so that the arms and legs were pillars of rust and invincible metal holding up a cradle in which Hjen had seen fit to build his bar. There was a shrine at the door of course, to appease the spirits that might call the building a desecration of a body in death. Hjen had thought it suitable tribute that a dead meknic machine of war was now used to celebrate life, a cycle he called it. He was scholarly like that.
The patrons were of a multinational, inter denomination and cosmically diverse sort, such as could be found in the barrens. There were no Darks or Sharps, and very few Tin men (though only because the tin men didn’t find occasion to socialize with soulful men) but most other races were present. The Barrens welcomed all, because it received so few; it was a hostile place to live and work. Thus there were those that flew with wings and those that flew without, there were green and blue drops, red and brown Shrubs, Gobs of all shapes with a sprinkling of man blood strewn about like a breeze. Clods and Hoofs and Tall Men, all sat shoulder to shoulder. Metal adorned many; Meknics loved the Barrens.
“See what’d I tell ya? Cycles, he started all over again, ruined the cycle he was in, now he may never heal, he might always hurt.” Hjen started his eyes winking again.
“Hah wasn’t my fault, he’d have started again anyway, look, see the door there? That’s his girl, the Shrub with the amber eyes. And see there? That Gob behind her, that’s the Gob of our friend’s woeful tribulation.” Lilin shook his head, “I should not have said anything, for I think he heard me, now there will be blood I imagine.”
“It would not have made a difference, he would have seen anyways.”
“That Gob! That’s the Gob, the clumsy, clumsy Gob! I’ll ruin him!” Lilin’s friend said, eyes flashing dangerous colors of magic and rage.
“Friend, let me buy you another drink, to help you along in your cycle? Hjen here says it’s not healthy to break a cycle. He should know, he was once a sage in a different life.”
“Was not, cycles just come natural.” Hjen blinked slowly once but put his mug down and squared his shoulders, “they won’t let me in the library.”
“If you are my friend, unhand me! There is injustice in this room and it has the look of a Gob!”
There was a flare of light and Lilin’s hand was flung from his friends shoulder. The Shrub leaped into the air, hoisting a lightning bolt in his outstretched hand. The two who had entered, the amber eyed girl and a rather large Gob looked up in surprise.
“No!”
The bolt came crashing down, the shrub’s body convulsing in magical release and he crouched breathing hard for a moment before looking up to behold the chaos that he had turned the Warrior into. Meknics sat rigid, with weapons morphed and outstretched, swords and barrels all shivering in anticipation of use. The outlaws dug for hidden guns, not checked at the door, warriors drew knives and those with the Art, readied arcane powers, twisting reality to make fire and light. Anger and tension boiled; the shrub’s lightening had missed its mark.
“She’s gone!” The drop sobbed, body limp with her friend in her arms, “her spirit is fleeting! It is nearly gone!”
“I.. I…”
“What have you done?” Hjin said. His eyes winked but did not move, there was nothing left to do.
“She’s not gone.. not quite…” Lilin had rushed to the two drops, and laid a glowing hand on the burnt drop’s side.
“She is, she is gone!” the drop wailed
“You’re drunk, she’s not gone… you, you with the cross, use your skill. I have no art to cure this, but you! You and your science may!”
The Gob that had entered with the amber eyed Shrub grunted in agreement and lowered a visor. At his left the meknic arm folded and moved, its thin wires and worming cables took the drop gently from her friends hands. The friend released her, collapsing into Lilin’s arms as the Gob enveloped the small being in his healing cocoon. On his back a life pack filled with meknic fluids charged and expanded, the creation engine priming for the work at hand, humming. The red cross of a medic swung on a chain at his neck
“It’ll be ok, he’s a healer, look at his science, it is beyond me but he will fix her.”
“He’ll change her! She’ll be changed… it won’t be the same ever again…!”
“How could you? Look at the pain you’ve caused, look at it! Look at her! This is why I left you, this is why you’re alone. How could anyone be with someone like you?”
“I was alone… I wanted you back… Gobs are so clumsy, I always thought they were clumsy… maybe.. maybe I was clumsy all along…”
“Parts, she’s broke good, anyone got parts to give? I don’t got enough ta do it.”
They came, the meknics and scraps gave away their bits. Pathways, conduits and sheeting. The Gob took what they offered, grunting and added back the drop’s fragile wing, filling her ruined body with synthetics. Sparks flew and the fluids from the Gob’s life pack drained into her veins, reviving parts of her. Fingers twitched from an arm that lay outside the cocoon and a foot kicked, dancing ever so slightly like it had moments before disaster had struck.
The Gob’s arm collapsed, finished its job, parts of it folding and turning back into an arm shape and ejecting the Drop like a manufactured thing. The life pack stopped its humming, and became small again, the Gob resumed his normal appearance, except for the sweat on his green face from the exertion.
“Is she…?” the friend approached cautiously. The Drop shivered, still covered in creation fluid, the bits of her that were burnt and broken were now hard and cold, metal and meknic science.
“She ain’t what she was, but I fixed her. Dunno what’s left, what’s there now.” The Gob said, “I need to drink.”
Hjin set a double wide flagon on the bar, “tonight it’s on the house.” Hjin shook his head, “that was some cycle, I’ve never seen a cycle like that before, never like that. Is he alright? Or he goin’ ta pop?”
The Shrub who had lost the amber eyed girl, who had missed with his lightning and nearly killed the Drop was still where he had fallen, he had not moved. The amber eyed girl had moved to her Gob, hand lightly on his shoulder and her hip. Lilin gazed from the bar, attention split between the two Drops, hugging and wondering at the meknic miracle and his drinking companion, still on the floor.
“I guess his day was always tragic, tragedy builds and builds, it never lessens. That was before he was angry, getting angry always makes things worse.” Lilin said to no one. “I guess its… I guess it’s a cycle.”
Hjin blinked his eyes slowly, wiping mugs. “What, were ya a sage in a past life?”
Lilin smiled, “I doubt it, they don’t let me in the library.”

2007-03-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

hi·a·tus –noun, plural -tus·es, -tus.
1. a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, action, etc.

Yeah... or something like that at any rate. I've decided that everytime I have a few seconds I'm going to update this blog. It'll be part of my 2007 "get your butt writing more!" initiative. I gotta tell you, its only going so-so. I've dialed my one short story a month goal back to getting one out every 4 months or so.. and then work on the coninuing projects that have been continuing for... ages...

But enough of that dismal stuff, heres the good news!!

Parable's due date is less than a week away and Josh is hard at work to hit that deadline. I gotta say hes something of a machine, with plans to finish pencils (4 pages) inks (9 pages) and coloring the whole thinga basically (thats 15 pages...15) Haha and yes, he WILL complete this task which he has set before himself, because thats the kind of talented super, 11th hour artist that Josh is.

So thats the big event on the horizon for me (and Josh of course), since its my first time being published in anything that wasn't the church newsletter. Stay tuned for updates and publishing dates!

Otherwise, I'm really going to try posting more snipets of thigns up here. I've started a few more creatures stories, so we'll see how those turn out. Great things Loom!

John, the writer.

2006-11-02T20:32:00.000-08:00

The first few days....

Here it is. Tomorrow I plan on quadrupling the word count... the past couple days have been filled with sick and sleepy. Anywho here the start : ) Erm.. I think I'll post a word doc next time... thats formatted really nasty...

Underhouse.

“We look and we look for mysteries and wonders, but in doing so we overlook the obvious. Why point your nose to the sky in awe when there are many, many more marvels much closer. At times, it is those who stumble who find the greatest treasures, the ones right under our feet”
Old Gypsy Proverb.
It begins.
Light from power globes struck through the darkness, creating fantastic shadows on the cavern walls. It bobbed wildly, its owner running in the direction of a loud call.
“Jacob! Jacob! Here, come here, bring the tools man.”
“What is it?” Jacob yelled back, straining his voice to be heard over his breath. He was not a large man, but plump and far too old to have just run the amount of stairs he had without some ill side effect. He near collapsed with his load of tools when he came to the work site, the hat he'd taped a power globe to tipping down over his eyes and exposing a balding spot that was normally kept carefully hidden.
“What... is .... it?” Jacob gestured at the walls, “you know... you know its not safe to be so loud. Covert, thats whats needed... covert, silence.”
Robert shook his head without turning his face away from the wall, mouth moving silently as he made out the characters on the surface by the light that came from a hand globe.
“What is it? Its it!” He reached out and grabbed Jacob's shoulder, pulling the older man closer to the wall and the script. Shorter but fit from crawling through caves most of his life, Robert Dawn had little trouble dragging his tired counter part nearer.
“You're the academic, I never had a head for these things like you, what do they say? I think... I think they're important!”
“All that shouting for an 'I think' ?” Jacob frowned, “dangerous, just plain dangerous. Theres things in these caves that make loud people like you disappear.”
Robert finally turned, blue eyes bright in the old mans globe, “theres the mark Jacob, the door mark! And theres a map! I think, I think we've found it!
“Door mark? Where show me!”
“Here, and another, here!”
“I see... yes, yes its the mark they used for doors. Locked doors maybe. No, this ones for unlocking. And the map its... here take the light, shine it up there...”
Robert scrambled for a globe in amid the tools, fumbled with the switch and finally got it set on its stand so that soft illumination reached to the high ceiling of the room, some thirty lengths above them.
“Its huge...” Robert breathed in awe.
“Yes, its all here! Like you thought it wold be! Robert this is it! Or at least the first part of where it is! We've found the map! See, here, this must be us right here!” Jacob's finger brushed a symbol on the map. Even in the bright lights, the glow could be seen, a passing pulse that caught Robert's eye.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That! You pressed something and there was a light, it glowed light it was lit.”
“By globes you mean?”
“No, something different...” Robert leaned closer and brushed his fingers against the symbol again, the light repeated.
“Its powered! It can't be...”
“It must be, here get the tools, the instruments. We need to take readings, pictures, this is the find of the century!” Robert brushed his hand against it again, a little harder. The pulse of light rippled and lit up four node around it. Jacob, half way to the pile of tools froze when the grinding began, like blocks of rock moving against each other.
Robert staggered back, looking around wildly, trying to find what had made the noise. A rush of sour air poured down over top each of them, carrying mold and dust and the scent of long dead things. In the next instant a shape darted past the lights, casting a fleeting shadow. A hunting scream sounded instants later.
“What is it?”
“Who cares what, where is it? Get the gun, wheres the gun?”
“I left it... back at camp, where yours?”
Robert crouched low, holding a pistol up in front of him in response. Jacob followed him, cowering near the light.
“If its a nocturn the light will hurt its eyes.”
“if it has eyes, some just use sound you know, nothing but sonar and teeth...”
“Shhh, it'll hear you.”
Overhead another whoosing shape passed.
“Two, or one? I can't tell, they're so fast!”
“Shhh!” Robert hissed again, “we need to make it back to camp. You go first, I'll cover you.”
“Age before beauty eh? Alright.” Jacob glanced around, then straightened, “if we don't make it, just remember. We found it. We really found it Jacob. If we don't make it, thats alright. I can die happy right now, knowing that i was right.”
“If you don't hurry our ghosts will guard it too you old fool, move!”
Bobbing his head, Jacob wound the power globe on his hat to full strength and started off sprinting in the direction he had come. They were too fast, too dark in the black of the caves shadows. Robert shot twice, sound fantastically loud in the cavern and then silence amid the dying lights of globes.

Chapter One

“The following is written in the Journals of the Rulers of House. ..And the Ancestors came to this planet with Pride and Dreams, aspiring to create beauty and mansions on earth that rival those of Heavens perfect world. They built and brought and, in the likeness of lesser gods, made their dreams realities. They sought to create a perfect place. Outside Heaven, no such place exists, and thus in their Pride they were destroyed and we, the survivors and pure of thought and mind, were spared.”
Angelo Vicindii

Prince

Appendix

Of House
House or, more correctly, 'The House of Our Fathers' is a strange city. The planet on which it resides has long since ceased to have a name, House's inhabitants simply call it dangerous, murmuring about the environmental (storms) and ecological (predators) horrors of outside, not even daring to create children's stories from them. The fears are very real and as such House has wards and defenses unique to its situation.
Most of the city lies underground, built into the walls and floor of a long and wide canyon, its foundations set firmly on the remains of am ancient city sunk there by the Apocalypse. Its roof, the most amazing part of House, is a clear dome that House's Towers reach towards like grasping hands. At the Apex of the dome hangs the Seat of Power for House, where a Dynasty of Emperors have watched faithfully over the city.
Cascading down on ridges and ledges and man-made steps lies House, from the tallest towers majesty to the lower shambles and the forbidden basements of ancient ruins where massive predators still hunt, House is magnificent. Still, it holds no place next to the cities of old, the remains of which still sit dormant, waiting to be discovered.

Of the Rulers of House

Of Free Running

Of the Ancestors
The ancestors, that race of men that were the fathers of those that now live in House, hold a strange place in history. As fathers they are respected, but as men they are reviled. They are both praised for their part in making life possible in House and blamed for the current state of the planets environment. It is said they aspired too much and because of their ambitions they and their children for always will be punished. History tells us that they created the planet that House occupies from dust and built their utopia on it with tools and science so akin to magic that they must have had the Devils help in it. For this, God punished them, causing their creation to be taken from them in the Apocalypse.
The men descendant from the ancestors have lost most of the science that their predecessors once possessed, usually destroying what they do find as it is still considered black magic and devil craft. The keepers of House will not bring on another Apocalypse willingly.

2006-11-01T07:23:00.000-08:00

It'll be a cold day in Saskatchewan... today.

Hey! Um.. hmmm, yeah I have no excuses. None. To reimburse you all for this LACK of effort on my part, this complete disreguard for my Extensive (perhaps more correctly called intensive... is that the opposite of 'alot'?) fanbase, I bring you... National Novel Writing Month!! Haha ok ok so I don't bring it to you but as sure as the wind blows I'll going to try my darnest to hit the goal this year.

For those of you unfamiluar, NaNoWriMo happens every Novemeber and is a personal challenge for anyone who wants to try to write a novel in a month. The target is 50,000 words in a month, preferably coherent Novelish words and not "I am so great" copy and pasted over and over and over... check out the site here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/ I've managed to complete the task once in the past two years (last year school got in the way pretty hardcore) and I'd love to at least come close to the target this year. So that said, heres the story I'll be writing :)

Underhouse.
The city now called House is on a planet that was colonized 1000's of years ago by settlers from Earth and then abandoned to its own devises ( as many planets were ). The settlers had a dream to build up the planet to what they beleived was the golden age of Humanity, modeling their society after the Greeks and Romans. They built great cities and dedicated themselves to the pursuit of knowledge. To this end libraries and schools collected vast amounts of information. Then one day, it was all lost...

The Survivors fled to massive underground shelters, the world outside was deemed to too hazardous to survive as the air was poisoned and weather wreaked havoc. For a generation they huddled and survived in the shelters, until some emerged and, finding conditions ahd improved somewhat, began to rebuild in the shelter of cliffs, building new foundations on the ruins of the old. Humanity perceveres, though they forgot what was and the history of what happened is a mystery.

Present day finds some people venturing into the basements of House, into the ruins to ask the questions of what happened, and where they came from. The discoveries of these people are even strager than fables, the lost technology found there like magic to the present day inhabitants of House. The beginning of the story begins with the finding of the Seerian Grid... a most Anchient highway into untold Wonder and Danger!

Haha hopefully that was dramatic enough to catch at least one persons attention : ) thats the premise and the story idea, we'll see where it goes from there. My plan is to post wha 've written here every couple of days, or at least links to what I've written (Not sure how much this blog can take.) So for all of you that want to follow along, this is the place to do it.

I sincerely hope that this story is as enjoyable for you all to read as I know it will be for me to write. Thanks for your interest,

John, the once and future Writer.

2006-08-03T16:58:00.000-07:00

Black Nines! The first chaper of Episode One: The Furies! Enjoy

Pilots called the supply run between Iliad and Sanction's station rich asteroid fields the Anaconda; long and dangerous. Seven days of deep space flight strewn with wandering rock field and barren moons meant little hope of rescue if anything went wrong half way. Pilots ranked the run among one of the most treacherous, demanding high pay and heavy gunship escort before considering to run heavy haulers through the stretch of desolation. Pirates loved the anaconda, basing camps and raiding parties out of the thousands upon thousands of rock fields that made Sanction such a hotbed of industry and striking convoys halfway. The gunship escorts weren't just for show, a lot of money changed hands in Sanction; legally and otherwise.
Three days into the Anaconda Charlie Davis pulled his point ship out of jump and locked the controls into slow burn. The rest of Interstar Postal fleet 47 phased into existence behind him, engines still flickering blue residue. Haulers, point ships and heavy escort pulled into a tight, textbook formation. Postmen prided themselves in precision. Davis watched his computer preform its standard sweep and come up with the all clear before unplugging and pulling off his helmet in the cramped cockpit
“Another one for the books, eh Gadd?”
Nathon Gadd marked the time on the flight logs and nodded.
“We’re three hours ahead of time. Not bad fly boy.”
“Good Postal efficiency, that’s all, and good maintenance. The fleet had a refit last month, didn’t you know? Standard tuning, engine retrofit. Was in the shop for a month”
“Huh yeah that would explain it. Been out of the loop for a while, I guess I didn't check too when I got back.”
“Got back?” Davis asked.
“Yeah. Took a couple months leave.” Nathan finished with his logs and cleared the screens. “Wife had another kid so we spent some time together. Went out to her parents cabin on Lake Shimwa, family time.”
“Well how about that! No fooling? You're a father again?”
“I never kid about family. Here, take a look.” Nathan took a wallet from from the overhead and sent a picture flying through the zero gravity his pilot. “That’s Murphy Gadd.”
“Murphy huh?” Davis caught the picture, holding it up.
“Yup, seven pounds and a couple of ounces. Healthy as an oak.” He grinned proudly, “I’d give you a cigar if we weren’t in this tin can, got a few in my bag.”
“Yeah, yeah I’d smoke to his health.” Davis nodded, tossing the picture back to his copilot. “Congratulations, he’s a real nice looking kid. Fine looking kid, must take after his mother, looks better than you, eh?”
“Hey, hey now easy. I figure he’s got my nose.” Gadd returned the picture.
“Yeah maybe, how many is that now? Got to be up around three?”
“Hah just three. And this is the end, threes enough, let me tell you.”
Davis chuckled, “She decide that or you?”
“She did, mostly.” Gadd said, “you ever have a family, you'll know when its time to pull the plug.”
“If I ever settle down, I'll remember that.”
“Family life's a good life.” Gadd nodded outside, “its tough being away from them for so long though.”
“Yeah.” Davis looked up from controls, “hey buck up man. We'll get you back safe and sound with a big fat paycheck to feed your new kid. A pilot can retire on a couple of these runs.”
“Yeah you're not kidding.” Gadd cracked a smile, “this ones for Murpheys college fund. The next ones a house on the lake.”
“Thats how you gotta think on these long cold runs.” Davis rubbed at his nose, “it keeps a man sane.”
“Yeah. Still though.”
“Yeah, still...”
“Hey, you’ll have the remind me about that cigar when we get in station.”
“Already looking forward to it. How many days we have left?”
“Three, another one in high orbit if the papers don’t go through right away.”
“They never do.” Davis shook his head, “Not while I’ve flown anyway.”
“Might this time, we’re carrying Cantrop cargo this run.” Gadd hooked a thumb out at the six big haulers outside the canopy. “I saw the stamps, high priority stuff.”
Davis let out a low whistle. “Now there’s a high rolling customer. Why’d they pick us to courier? I thought they handled their transport internally?”
Gadd shrugged, “No idea. Must have been a rush order, something that came up unexpected. Some shipping error or something.”
“Yeah probably… haha, life happens even to those big money guys huh?” Davis smiled, “even when you’re sleeping on a bed of gold and green, things screw up. That’s nice to know.”
“Hah, yeah.” Gadd chuckled, “Still, I’d like to have the kind of problems those guys have.”
“Yeah, like where to put all the extra loot they’ve picked up from stocks and all that.” Davis shook his head, “Everything those guys have touched lately has turned to gold.”
The two were interrupted by a crackle over the general speaker.
“Point this is guard leader, check your sweep, I'm picking up one unknown on approach. Its not flashing any codes, please confirm.”
Davis grabbed up his helmet and pulled it down on his head, Gadd doing the same. The plugs slipped in automatically, giving the normal dizziness while the systems booted into Davis's brain. Gadd was powering on defense systems inside of 30 seconds; the Postal service hadn’t gotten where it was without being paranoid. One big echo was closing fast on a hard burn. To Davis that shot up red flags.
“Roger guard leader, I confirm your count. That is one ship on hard approach. Not reading a broadcast signature, am now attempting hail.”
Gadd flipped through the general frequencies, repeating “Unknown, this is Interstar Postal Service fleet number 47 based in Iliad, please respond.”
After minutes and more attempts Gadd flipped up his mike, “They’re not responding Davis. Could be privateers. Or pirates.”
Davis nodded, and flipped back to guard leader, “Guard leader this is point ship. Cannot reach unknown on hail. It has…” He paused and double-checked the computers estimate, “3 minutes until weapons range. Possible threat, I repeat, the unknown poses a possible threat. Suggest fleet goes to weapons standby until unknowns intentions are made clear.”
“Roger point. Confirm, weapons on standby?”
“That is confirmed guard leader, we are weapons ready. If the unknowns make a hostile move you are weapons free.”
“Roger and out.”
“You think its anything?” Gadd asked.
“Nothing we can’t handle. Its only one ship, what could they do?” Davis patted his copilot’s shoulder reassuringly, “don’t worry, you’ve got a baby to get home to. We’ll make sure you do. It’s probably nothing.”
“Yeah.” Gadd pulled the release on the firing controls, swinging a complex headrest over his shoulders and jacking the cables into his head plugs. The lights in the ship cockpit turned to dim red as Davis did the same. “Just in case though.”
“Yeah.”
The two men sat in silence as the ISP fleet moved closer to the unknown.

2006-07-18T14:54:00.000-07:00

Middle of the Month and the end of summer looms!

I must be frank. Since I finished the final script of Thistles, I have written very little. Well, very little that I can post here. I doubt very much that anyone would wish to look upon my private journal, as my life is hardly as interesting as the people of my mind. I made goals before summer, and they were good goals. Goals worthy of effort and time. 1001, Balck nines and ( possibly) Condition Genesis. All of these stories are great, all of them will be worth reading when I'm finished with them. Right now... the problem seems to be time.

So now I'm making a new goal, hopefully one more realistic considering my current summer schedule. The first episode of Black Nines will be completed by the end of August. Thats it. Of course once Black Nines is finished, I'll move onto the next project ( possibly another Black Nines episode, possibly 1001) BUT no new projects until at least a few of these have been worked on and are in a place of satisfaction with me.

I'll probably post something a bit more enjoyable to read soon ( like tonight if I think of it ) so until then, adios!

John.

2006-07-03T17:56:00.000-07:00

Better late than.... well ok, thats an old one. Not excuses. I'm late. Still, character bios :) Next update will contain either the first bit of Black Nines or the Prologue of 1001, depending on which gets worked on first :)

Nina Harper. Her father was a snowman and her mother an ice queen. Those that survive this woman's cold shoulder should consider themselves lucky. Cold and collected, nothing can faze this agent or her skills as an infiltration and retrieval expert. She is not a leader, rather preferring to follow the orders of strategic minds and work as a lone wolf unit. One of her only flaws might be an inability to creatively think of solutions for problems. Even so, she is a valued asset as a Black Ops agent.

Kurtis Strange. He’s a grinning fool with a lightening draw. Kurtis is an expert in the ‘mix it up’ style of agent work. As a leader he is a brilliantly creative man who lives outside the box of normal thought. Expert in close combat and small firearms his assault strategies usually follow a style that incorporates explosions and stylistic firefights. The fact that he still remains alive after over 100 missions of fire, bullets and gin attests to his capable abilities.

Mary Stello. An army of one. Well, the commander of an army of one. Mary pilots an intercept carrier, her mind controlling a fleet of sixty-three intercept attack units. Mary’s brain is augmented by a complex A.I. network that allows her to manifest a virtual copy of herself dozens of times in different interceptors in her ships network, allowing her to control different units at the same time. When fleet support is required, she is the agent to call.

Chris ‘8ball’ Conrad. A smooth operator with a passion for pool, Chris prefers guile to direct confrontation. His body has been infused with a dragonfly defense unit, allowing him to control five orbs on specific magnetic fields around himself. Though not technically a cyborg, the hardware is very apparent on his body, even with the main unit uncoupled. His nerve and hard to mess with cool makes him a good choice for deep cover and missions in need of a soft touch.

Ajax and Cujo. Cyborg brothers in a big way. The two brothers served together as marines and later as Black Op’s agents. Forsaking flesh for mechanical ability, the two hardcore marines adopted Hx-toughcop urban warfare hardware upgrades. Both now stand 12 feet tall and nearly completely mechanized, the only things they kept from their human existence is flesh brains and a passion for heavy guns. When things need to be leveled indiscriminately, the brothers are called in to fill the heavy support role.

Jason Keith. Programming and network specialist. Before coming into employment with the Black Nines he worked as a freelance hacker for corporations, trafficking sensitive information. He was considered one of the best among the megacorp pirates. Now he employs his hacker and security skills for a slightly more legal organization. There is talk that Jason joined Black Nines under threat of his life, and that he is not allowed to leave the compound except under mission circumstances, but these rumors have never been founded. Jason doesn't talk much.

Sandra White. Pilot. Sandra can fly anything. One of only a handful of pilots who can run a craft without jacking in, Sandra is a versatile agent who also fills surveillance and support roles when the occasion arises. Known as the agent with jack-of-all-trades skill set she is versatile and valuable to Black Ops. Qualifications range from small to mid sized atmospheric and space craft.

Marko Slate. A mutant from Egypt labs who found a place first in the Forsant Security Task forces and then in the Black Nines themselves. He is an incredibly tough, strong and agile mutant created for construction work. Not initially created to be creative Marko still exhibits many free ideas not part of his original creation programming. On the outside he's a bluish tinge skin of organic armor, squat and powerful.

Casper and Sage. A sweeper team, bald and pale, cold and calculating. As much as the Accord agencies try to keep things above the board, sometimes in the world of intrigue and terrorism, it helps to be closer to the terrorist's level. Casper and Sage will follow every order, relentlessly and faithfully. Having undergone intense conditioning their faithfulness to the Accord is unquestionable and rivaled only by their skills as killers. When someone needs to disappear discreetly, Casper and Sage are called in from the shadows.

Joshua 'Stony' Acres. Intelligence Director at the Black nines. He has been in out of the security world for the past fifty years of his life, originally as a field agent and then moving into positions as a handler and further up into roles of upper house management. His somewhat easy going demeanor hides a calculating mind and a razor sharp memory. Through all the things hes seen and done, Stony has still retained his humor and compassion for the people, not allowing himself to become a cold man. Well connected, well informed and able to think in the many layers of Accord and Universe politics, Stony should never be underestimated.

Richard Aries. Another Directors in the Black Nines management team. A young prodigy of Accord conditioning, Aries has a mind that works like an organic computer; able to compute probabilities and scenario outcomes on the fly with only the assistance of minor brain mods. His only fault might be the value he places on human life and his willingness to sacrifice others for the greater good of the Accord. Still, his ability as a mission planner is unparalleled, making him one of the most dangerous men in the Accord.

2006-06-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

An opinion... thats worth about as much as a grain of salt.

For those that know me, or even casual people who see me on occasion and on said occaisons we exchange words and chit chat, it is obvious that I like comics. I have tried to steer away from super hero comics, they just have never appealed to me. I even use the term "Goofs in tights" Still, I'm starting to see the error of my ways. This is largely because of the onslaught of super movies ( previously super comics ) that are appearing in the "Coming soon!" and "Now Playing!" Sections of our theaters and movie stores. Most of these comic movies ( with exceptions being "A History of Violence" and "V for Vendetta" ) are superhero movies. Now I'd like to point out that many of these movies are not like the comics. That is, they're not good. Marvel has been... ok, batting about 50%. And really, thats fairly respectable. With Spiderman 1 & 2 being massive successes and titles like Electra and Daredevil meating passable praise ( though there were a few scenes worth watching )

Now onward and upword! There are three upcoming ( and arived ) movies I'd like to mention. Superman Returns is the obvious one, as its now showing and Spiderman 3 (the trailer was released yesterday) and Ghost Rider. Watch the Spiderman 3 trailer.... several times. Then meditate on it. It is possible they took the best parts of the source content and condensed it down into a film ( an extremely hard thing to do I might add ) Thats what it looks like. I can't ruin anything so I'll just say it: The suit + Sandman + Harry Osborn as the Green Goblin. Looks like they put the suit in this one WITHOUT Venom (which I think is good cause then they'd try to pack tooo much stuff into it [ahem xmen 3?]) If they keep the same love story / revenge bit / human interest plus spider powers recipe they've been keeping to thus far, I think it'll be great.

Superman I have little to comment on. I've heard rave reviews from skeptical sources though, so thats something in its favor, boosting it to "I'll probably see before it hits DVD" status. Ghost Rider looks like a bomb. A big, messy korian built bomb designed to cause as much everlasting damage as possible. Watch the trailer once... you'll see what I mean. Its too bad since Ghost Rider is a pretty cool character. I mean, hes got a flaming head for crying out loud. The one line "Human by day.. something else by night" was just too typical. Its too bad, that one had potential.

oh! in terms of my writing I'm gonna try and post Black Nine character bios tonight. For those of you who have been following this story you may be pleased to find I've added a few characters and edited a few of the existing ones in accordance with a few newer storylines that came to me. One Thousand One might be a next week update as I have plans for the remainder of this weeks nights and this long weekend will probably be spent moving people from one location to the next. Still... stranger things have happened and in the end, I shall persevere.

Until next time,

John, The Writer.

2006-06-23T15:52:00.000-07:00

You could call me a Stranger... and you'd be right.

I really need to get this update thing down. Like... make it a habit or something. Haha it'd probably help if I was writing more and actually HAD something to post here. But I don't. At least not anything that isn't 4th Watch material.

Finished the final version (rough draft) of our Parables submission script the other day and I have to say, I'm very happy with it. More importantly most of the people who have read it are happy with it. They might be less critical than myself ( I mean in the sense that he who writes is his hardest critic ) but, in the end, its these guys that we need to give smiles and prompt tears. They are the audience; our consumer. So it fills my little heart up with measures of happiness and relief to know the script passes their scrutiny. Now I give this skeletal thing over to Josh and trust that he will clothe it in apparal so wonderous and fantastic that all who gaze upon it will be held inthrall. He'll do it too. Haha I can't wait.

In my other projects I have made little to no progess. Black Nines stares at me forelorn, still mostly untouched after the most recent corrupt file incident, the ideas lingering. I may post the character profiles later this weekend, I've been told they are the best part.

One Thousand and One is calling also. I reread the prolouge I had written originally for it, the one I was determined to rewrite into a different setting, and found I liked it better than I remembered. I think I'll keep it with minor changes. Keep the mood and setting at least, details always switch themselves a round for the betterment of all readers. Anyway, One Thousand One is one of those stories I love, for setting and Characters and a plot idea that has enough juice to spill over into an epic adventure. Its also Bekah's favorite and alot of our talks turned into parts of that story while I was writing it for Nano. So I think I'm going to promise two updates in the next week. Black Nines Profiles and a One Thousand One prologue. Because you, the reader, deserve it.

For now and for always John.

2006-05-30T17:56:00.000-07:00

Updates from the unknown!!!!

If I could pu that in little wiggly text font, maybe dripping green ooze, I would. Seriously It feels like its been about two months since I updated this thing so either that displays my laziness or my buziness (intentional mis-spelling). Honestly though there is little to report on the writing front except that my saved copy of Black Nines corrupted twice. Twice. Thus leaving me to start again from a recovered gmail attachement. Heart attacks DO come to the young, but that knight in glimmering armor (gamil!) hath come to the rescue. Awww the things of fairytales. Needless to say Black Nines has been set back... alot, but the ideas are still in my skull... somewhere. Updates on that a biiit later.

Parables direction has been moved or, should I say, redirected? In a week of emails and heated discussion Josh and I both agreed that 'Shut-In' is a fantastic comic, just not suitable for Parables. We will be finishing it, full length and INCLUDING Kenny the Thumb, everyones soon-to-be favorite twitchy squirrel. I'll post more about our next great comic idea in the 4th watch blog.

So for the remainder of this blog, I'm doing what bloggers everywhere do, but I'm going to attempt some poise. I will rant, its true, and about a geeky pop culture movie. Though bound in my fevered opinions I hope there might just be a spark of truth, a bit of light to bring to this dismal darkness that has been dubbed "X-men 3"

I'm not a massive fan to begin with, but when you start seeing trailers with Juggernaut in them, flashing images of Beast ravanging through armies of lesser mutants and murmurs of 'the pheonix' that geek heart inside beats a little faster. With material like that, they can't screw up! It's impossible! Right? Oh please...right? Yeah... right...

Its shallow, cyclops (again) is a minor and near useless character. Actually, correction, in this movie he IS useless. Main characters die, and I'm talking about the charatcers that survived in the same situations in comic land. I won't spoil what little shock value there is to be had by naming who, but lets just say, their deaths do little to add to the plot of the movie for the most part.

So heres the end, what bugs me the most is that this had potential to be a great show. Instead, for some bizzare reason, writers caved to fan pleads and tried to include everything they wanted. Succeeding in fitting in everything, they ultimately gave us very little. Two good, solid ideas would have gone a long, long way instead of trying to incorperate a half dozen minor plot lines that never developed to anything. *sigh* such good source material, so much waste.

the movie does have its moments, and those moments are good, but I can't help be feeling those moments have little flow to them, and are separated by expanses of stand alone scenes of fighting and mayhem. If only they'd had more flow... if only we cared a bit more about these characters... if.. but.. *sigh* And I'm finished.

See the movie, the animation is amazing. Take your kids, a five year old can figure out whats going on with ease. Form you opinions. For an action flick its not bad, but fans wanted a bit more. I think fans deserved a bit more. Thats my opinion and I think a few hundred thousand others might just share it.

Gone for now,
John The Writer.

2006-05-09T11:42:00.000-07:00

Well hey everyone!

I've been back at work for about a week nw and am finally getting used to the idea of wearing a tie... Haha the new shirts I bought are good, apparently they're the right size. The old shirts I had in the back of my closet are a tad bit tight around the neck. Hehe I always uesd to wear them collar open so it didn't matter. Dress codes pfft...

Anyway, with my life once again hitting that get up-go to work-come home-....chill.... I'm find more time to spend on serious writing. The project that I've been most busy with lately is overhauling 'Black Nines'. It will be one of my shorter pieces (Compared to say... One thousand One which will probably turn into one fo those three volume epics....) so I thought it would be a good one to start with on my summer revisions. So far so good (minus a back-up error and a corrupt file... thank goodness for Gmail and its wonderful massive storage for backups :)) I guess long story short, expect a post of Black Nines as soon as later today.

My other off again on again summer project "Creatures" has been worked on a bit. Haha that project is more of a loose idea project. If theres a loose idea in my head that needs to go somewhere, I create a short about it with some Creatures characters. Well I will be. Right now theres a pile of partial ideas on paper... I'll finish one soon and post it soon too. This week might be a really good one for postings actually... well I never promise things anymore, but the POTENTIAL is there.

Until then, John.
The Writer.

2006-04-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

Sunday!

Well heres a good day, the last one before I start my new job. I must say, I'm kinda looking forward to being employed again. It might have something to do with suddenly finding about three runs of Trade paperbacks I want to buy (haha anyone want to loan me 180$ for Bone? Anyone?) Anyway, I'll be able to routine my day once again with a job and that should, theoretically equal more time for writing. it may not, but hopefully it will. I still have a wicked EVE addiction too, so that will demand time. Oh! Just in case I haven't plugged EVE yet, probably the best online game you'll ever play. www.eve-online.com . Check it out, do the 2 week demo and then sign away your life. Haha I kid, its not that bad, no need for an intervention... Yet.

Alright enough of that stuff, time for what you all really want to hear! This past weekend I did the 24 hour playwright contest and I gotta say it was a humbling expierence. The awards ceremony was this morning and while I knew I was probably sub par, I still held out that small amount of hope that I might place a third. Yeeaaahhh right. Hearing the excerps from the winning plays in both the student and open categories I was absolutely stunned at the wit and pure skill of not only the expierenced playwrites but the student ones, two of which I'm sure were younger than I am. Haha I console my wounded pride int he knowledge that they were all drama students of some kind or another and I'm just a lowly novel writer. Met some good people though, and learned quite a bit about the playwriting community in Saskatoon, theres this underground society it seems, very dedicated to their work. Like vampires maybe, only less bloodthirsty.

Well here it is, in case anyone wants to read this thing I conceived. 27 pages, just over 10,000 words and written in a little over 10 hours (haha I copped out pretty early, it wasn't going to get any better without major overhauling to plot structure.) Haha due to length I decided to post it on a different webspace instead of torturing Blogger with it.

http://www.thecomicmachine.zy.ca/nano/play.html

I really have to Thank a one Julian Kelly for how this turned out. Originally this was going to be a 'Creatures' story, and it still kinda is. Debating ideas for about 2 hours with Julian we turned it less into a 'Creatures' story and more into its own little stand alone project with no real ties to anything. So thanks dude! You're awesome!

Until Next time, God Bless,
John,
The Writer.

2006-04-23T14:19:00.000-07:00

School is over. Over AND Done!

I wrote my last final exam yesterday morning annnnd have had a great day of turning my brain into mush today. Haha iced tea and Kung Fu movies will do that to a guy ;) Still and all, I thought it high time to at least attempt to accomplish something today between bouts of napping, movie marathons and general slothing. Thus, I started to plan out some of my summer writing goals.

First and foremost is 'Creatures', as this is the story line that I plan on adapting to the 24-hour Play write. Let me shine some light on my particular brand of erratic writing style. I'll get an idea, or a picture in my head, of a scene that should happen, or a setting that would nbe neat. Thats how it starts. Whether inspired by something I've seen / heard or just a wandering thought captured out of the clear blue sky, its just that, an idea. This is the part I love. As the idea is this fresh and bright thing I'll write about all in a rush. Then comes the hard part. I come back in a day, find most of the grammar is gibberish and meanings incoherent, so its edit edit edit. Then, to add any more to the story, there needs to be a feasible plot, interesting characters etc and those generally don't appear in the first idea "rush".

Creatures is at the idea stage. Why are those two little fellows wandering through the jungle? Where is the jungle? What is a bolter? what.. when... how... why... haha these are very good questions for which I have less than interesting answers to. I have a few ideas for characters and minor plot points, but less than few for the main drive of the story. I am leaning towards doing something with a fable tinge to it, a short complete hero - villian story thats fairly simple wth all the traditional elements. I really want to give the stage the look of a three ring circus too and think I can pull off that effect.

Other than Creatures, I was looking back through a few things and anticipate spending time finishing the first installment of 'Black Nines', a story that leads agents Chris Conrad and Sandra White to an industrial station deep in an asteriod belt to find a missing InterStar Postal fleet. The Heavily armed courrier fleet was hyjacked mid flight in an elaberate heist. Fearing an outbreak of similar thefts, the Black Nines are put on the case along side a shifty crew of ISP security agents a long way from civilized space to clear the problem up as quick as possible. All they're up against is an extremely gifted hacker, an AI with revenge on the mind and the whispering beginnings of an unknown group that seems to be pulling the strings from behind a wall of mystery. Stay tuned for the full posting of "Mail Run".

I'd really, REALLY like to get either Condition Genesis or else One Thousand One edited and brought up to spec (the former has less that needs to be done on it) so in the coming months those will be posted for sure. Now for a treat, looking back in the old archives I've dug up this little gem for your reading pleasure. Remember what I said about the idea? This is all this is and has very little hope of growing any larger than that. Still and all, I hope you Enjoy the kidnapping of a princess.

Sornthii stood at a window, staring out at the moon. Full and shining over the city, sparkling in little ways over fountains and fresh snow. It was the only time that the snow shone white, in the morning it would be churned to brown mud by the feet of many. For now, for the moment, the whole of the city from window to Travelers gate in the far west sparkled from torches and snowflake. She shivered from the frost in the air.
"Love, come away from the window." Celius whispered. "I shall never hear the end of it if my bride dies of cold on her wedding night."
She smiled over her shoulder.
"I do not think that I shall freeze in your arms, my Only. The moon is so full tonight, over the city it looks unlike anything else I've seen."
"It looks like the crying moon, the forest shade." Celius came behind her and wrapped a heavy cover over her bare shoulders. "The beast men will look to that sky tonight."
"Beast men?" She laughed, "what stories are you telling now? I am no longer a little girl who believes such tales!"
"And what do you know of the wide world outside the travelers gate?"
Her eyes sparkled, "only what you whisper into my ear." She turned and wrapped the cover around Celius also, drawing him close. "Whisper the beastmen tale to my ear tonight." She kissed his cheek.
"There is a valley and a hidden place inside a mountain where wolves walk like men, tigers speak with an intelligent tongue and bears smith and hunt with metal."
"But the valley is not real."
"It is, and the beastmen sometimes come from it in force to steal away unbelievers in the night." Celius smiled. Sornthii punched his shoulder.
"Your tales are getting more and more ridicules every time father takes you away on his trade routes!"
"Are you sorry that you married a dreamer?"
"It is because you were a dreamer that I married you..."
The room fell into something of silence, and among the snowy roof tiles, silence moved.
Shadows within shadows, night deeper than night something stirred and jumped from roof to roof. Daring leaps ended in padded crouches, and the sleeping forms behind windows and under snowy ceilings knew nothing but the wind and dreams that come with slumber. Black shadows in the night were not of a sleeping man's concern.
From the huts to houses the shadows came, and over walls into the palace itself. In the blackness between torches they crept and came, unknown to the eyes of broad shouldered men. It was the dogs that first felt something amiss, crying foul into the night and straining against their tethers. The guards ran to the gates and flung shutters off lanterns, sending beams of light to pierce the shadows. Crouching in the dark, shining eyes glared out. Without warning, shadow became solid and steel was unsheathed.
"Demons from Nor'hanath!" A guard yelled, "warning, warning!"
The words died in this throat, an arrow's fletching suddenly showing where his heart dwelt. More light came and the hounds howled, but the shadows were gone, leaping up to the high roofs of the modest palace.
Captain of the guard rushed into Zelin's bedchamber with a lantern, closing the windows and disturbing the girl's sleep. She fearfully clutched the sheets to herself and blinked against the sudden light.
"Captain, explain yourself!" She cried. "I am a guest here!"
"No time Princess, the palace is under attack!"
"Attack?"
"They come for you!" The captain drew his sword and stood gazing out the window.
"What is the meaning of this? Who comes for me, tell me!"
"Demons, beast men! They come to take you away!"
"Beast men?" Zelin frantically took up several robes and tried to put them on all at once. "Fairy tales! There is nothing of the sort!"
"The minds of men are shallow, the things the Far Patrol sees are strange." The Captains eyes darted here and there. Fires were being lit to try and scare the beasts off and the dogs were loosed, but it would not stop them. The archers had taken three, and pike men surprised four more in the halls, but more remained silently. He had already lost a dozen men to the shadows. Who knew how many more there were? Then a sound came from the roof and in a moment lines were thrown past the window and dark forms crashed through the shutters in a fury of wintry air. The Captain stepped back from the glass shards and held his sword overhead.
The forms crouched, then stood, their heads nearly skimming the roof. Green eyes glinted behind metal grates.
"Demons, you shall not harm her!" The Captain stood his ground. Zelin cowered in her bed.
"Captain of Dunese, soldier of the North and monk. We salute you who are about to die, for your courage and your honor in combat."
"She is my charge and can not be harmed while protected by this house."
"We wish her no harm, but you will not stop us." The form drew a long blade from his back and a metal fan from his belt.
"Do you know the girl's father?" captain asked
"Yes."
"He will hunt you to the ends of the earth, to the edge of the world where the sea spills into the void, he will find you even there."
"It is not us that your master should hunt. We are but hands bound by oath to another."
"What other?"
"I am bound by oath not to say." A padded foot stepped forward. "Die well Captain of men."
"Mine shall not be the only death!"
Zelin huddled in her blankets and pile of robes, not daring to move lest the balance of the fight be swayed in the demon’s favor. The Captain locked blades and spun, cutting the air in parts around the black swaths of cloth. For the size of the other, his quickness and grace was beyond what the eye could follow. The fight was a blur of movement, a perfect balance until the captain stopped. Out of his back the tip of a saber protruded. In a quick movement the black figure unfurled the fan and took the captains head, granting a quick death. Zelin screamed at the show of violence and barely realized that she was being wrapped in a rug and tied across a pair of shoulders. By the time her eyes dried, the tears were frozen on her face and she was far, far from what she knew.

I hope you enjoyed this little tale of men and monsters. Like all good stories it contains ninjas. ;)

Until next time, God Bless
John, The Writer.

2006-04-16T07:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter to one and all, whether you celebrate this day or not, its still a day to get up and enjoy a day unlike any other!

Sincerely,
John
The Writer.

2006-04-13T21:30:00.000-07:00

Thursdays are for the birds...

Well at least this Thursday was. The birds have it good and so do we ;) Enough of birds though, and heres a long and winding story of coinsidence and (perhaps?) of luck and a bit of grace once again falling on my head.

It starts with me looking at my final schedual. The university does all the schedualling so that, theoretically, no student should have exams conflicts (ei five exams on the same day etc etc). I mean we're talented, but not THAT talented. So I check and low and behold I have three exams on the same day, exact same time. Needless to say, I was a little concerned. Talking with profs and the schedualling people we got things all sorted out two of the three exams are moved to different days. Stick with me on this now, heres where it gets interesting.

Wensday rolls around and I show up at my English Prof's office to write my drama english test. Waiting in the hall, I see an add for a 24 hour playwright contest. Intrigued I said to myself, "What the hey, I should maybe try it out!" And so I am! See? its weird... I never would have seen that add if not for the messed up exam schedual. Call it what you will bt I'm going with grace and angels.

So the past few days I've been thinking, and all I can think of is "How cool would it be if Creatures was a play?" And thats where it sits, this idea in my brain that a Creatures story should be a play. I'll keep adding bits of Creatures to the blog but the play story idea I have to keep to myself until the contest (haha all has to be written in 24 hours of course). Heres the link to the contest details, if anyone else is in the Saskatoon area and interested, go for it, should be a good time for all. 24 Hour PlayWright

Until next time,
John
The Writer.

2006-04-07T10:12:00.000-07:00

Creatures Mini Series.

I was thinking in English class today about something that I would be able to post on this thing. And I got a tickle in the back of my mind. See, I was reading this amazing sequence project by Outcast Studios yeaterday (www.outcaststudios.com) called IMPH (http://imph.outcaststudios.com/) And it got me thinking. First the format, these sequences are high detailed snapshop bits of a wildly interesting and strange world that are usually 4 pages. The artwork inspired me and the the format intrigued me. Why couldn't a witer do something similar? Little snapshop bits of a world, small scenes that didn't necessarily have anything to do with anything else on a larger scale? Loving the world that Berghout and Laurent created I decided to do soemthing similar. (I'm a sucker for robots on most days anyway) Hopefully its far enough away that I'm not copying anything but I really hope I capture the same feel they were going for. To this end I'll be posting this mini-series I've dubbed "Creatures" in the blog from time to time along with updates and content from my other projects. I am both pleased and proud to present the first 'Creatures'. Please enjoy.

John Gunningham.
The Writer.

Creatures ~ Part one ~

“You sure you saw what you said you seen?”
“Course I’m sure!”
“Well you said you seen stuff before, and it’s really been nothing. That’s why I ask.”
“That’s not why you ask is it?”
“Well…”
“It’s my patch isn’t it? That’s why you asked isn’t it?”
“Well…”
“Look here, I just got one patch, just one! Its cause the light hurts this one eye, not the other one! This eyes fine! I see better with this eye than you with your two!”
“Is that so?”
“It is. See, it’s your nose. Nothing could see properly with a nose that big in the way!”
“Is that so?”
“I just said it’s so!”
“I have to admit, I see better if I turn my head from side to side, look on side of my nose then the other. I do see better if I look that way.”
“Hah!”
“But you do have that patch over the one eye, and you said before you seen things that ain’t been there.”
“Like when?”
“Like just yesterday! I remember you saying ‘look! There’s a good bit of food for us!’ And what did it turn out to be? A lump of sod is what! How is that a good bit of food I ask?!”
“It was a trick of the light…”
“Hah! Then this another ‘trick of the light’? Tramping trough the jungle in this heat when we could be in a nice cool hole. Looking for things that were falling outta the sky. Madness and light tricks!”
“I said I seen something fall out of the sky and that’s what I saw!”
“But you don’t know what it looked like?”
“The light was funny.”
“I bet it was. How are we to know we’ve found what we’re looking for if we don’t know what we’re looking for looks like?”
“I’ve got a feeling we’ll know.”
“Feelings and tricks in light. Why do I follow you anyways?”
“Cause I got the cooking pack is why.”
“Oh right…”
“And that makes me the boss right?”
“Its cause Hib said you were boss is why you’re the boss.”
“Right, that’s why. Under Hib I’m number one. And its cause Hib said so and cause I got the cooking pack.”
“That’s right.”
“So follow up and help me find what I’m looking for. Hib’ll want to know about bits of things falling from the sky.”
“If bits of things are really falling from the sky…”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, following, I’m following.”
“Look here… hurry up! Look over here! See? See?! I told you I saw it!”
“What’s… what’s that?”
“Looks like… well its up in that tree pretty high, caught up in the vines. Is it moving? I thought I saw it moving!”
“Just a trick of the light. What is it?”
“I can’t see from here.”
“Hah! You admitting you can’t see?”
“From here! Anyway, I saw it fall didn’t I? I told you I saw something fall and I was right. You’re a good throw, throw your swish at it and cut it down.”
“My swish? What if I lose it?”
“You’re a good throw with a swish, you won’t lose it.”
“But what if I do?”
“I’ll give you mine if you lose it, you’ve always liked my swish right? I’ll give you mine and get a different one myself if you lose yours.”
“Look I think its moving!”
“I thought you said it was a trick of the light?”
“No it’s moving a little! It’s breaking free! Watch out, watch out! It’s falling!”

Pause

“Well that was close. I was sweating.”
“I think I did more than sweat…”
“What is it?”
“It was moving, I won’t get close.”
“Why not?”
“What if it’s dangerous? All I have is my swish and its not good at hitting close things.”
“Here then, take a pan.”
“The heavy pan?
“If it’s dangerous, you can clobber it. It’s a good heavy pan.”
“Never clobbered something before…”
“There’s nothing to it, just bonk and slam and the thing you need clobbered is clobbered but good.”
“Alright. If I yell like I’m getting clobbered, you run to help?”
“I’ve got the other pan, I’ll help if you yell.”
“Alright, here I go…”

Pause

“Well?”
“Come look, its not moving anymore! I think it’s broken!
“Broken, what is it?”
“It looks like a bolter, or bits of a bolter. She’s broken!”
“A bolter!”
“What should we do? She’s not dead, bolters are hard to make dead, but she isn’t moving. I think she’s broken.”
“A bolter!”
“That’s what I said!”
“How’s a bolter fall from the sky?”
“Can you fix a bolter? I can’t.”
“Hib can fix her. Hib can fix her. We’ll take her to Hib, he’ll know what to do.”

2006-04-04T13:05:00.000-07:00

Alright alright and hello,

Consider this the first official post. Though I'm sure it will change in the near future as i think of more interesting things to post about. My life isn't very interesting most days so I think I'll usually post storys and fun news that I find on the net. So without further adu (Thats french for something I think...)

Writing:
Current Projects that are recieving attention are the follows.

Shut-Up
This is a comic project that is being written with Josh Alves on pencils and Chad LaForce with his excellent inks. The story revolves around a Beaver and an Armadillo and the zoo in which they live. I'd classify it under the cute, funny and hopefully message filled category of story. This is probably the story the will recieve the most active work in the near Future.

Pariah Dispersia
This is my long and ongoing comic project with Josh Alves. I've already gone into the story a little on our 4th Watch Blog space (the links riiight over there to your right if you're interested) and has a special place in my heart. Not only is it some of my best work to date, I'm extremely pleased with the complexity of the time frames that we're writing the storys. Multiple views of the same events all tied together. Going to be epic!

Black Nines
This ones a personal project in one of my favorite genres: Science Fiction. I originally had this idea after watching Mission Impossible II. The whole idea of an agency with multiple agents all with different skill sets for different missions sounded ideal for a series of connected novellas and thus I dreamed up the Black Nines, a covert agency funded by governing bodies to combat terrorism and piracy in a distant future world. Characterization is heavily influenced by 'Ghost in the Shell' using alot of cyborg type characters. The world is populated by multiple planets, system governements, a spanning 'treaty governement' called the Forsant Accord and multiple industrial giants. Space ships, laser guns and mutants all make their appearances. Most likely to be the most updated piece of my private projects as they are shorter works that hopefully will all tie together in the end.

Condition Genesis & 1001
Well.. although these two pieces are not related in the slightest, they were both entries for the Nano writing contest of 2005 and 2004 respectively. They both have alot of content and raw ideas but completely unedited (for those of you not familuar with Nano, its basically a persoanl challenge to see if you can write 50,000 words in a month. 1001 made it! Condition Genesis didn't). Condition Genesis deals with a planet that draws interstellar junk to itself and the survivors of multiple ship crashes that have set up civilization there. Its science fiction with a gritty steampunk feel. 1001 is pure fantasy based on the idea of 'instead of starting with a curse just placed... why not start with a curse just ended?' The people of the broken isles have lived for a thousand years under a curse but have completely forgotten about it. Now things are about to get much better as the curse is lifting, but also much, much stranger as the world reverts to its precurse condition. I like both of these stories... but they are on teh sidelines at the moment as each would be a massive undertaking to bring up to publishable quality.

Culture
Perhaps my greatest story. Culture attempts to deal with culture, race, religion, sub-culture and pop culture all in a very fictional world built to exagerate these differences. Its not fantasy, its something... different. Populated by traditional fantasy races (elf, human, dwarf, goblin, dragons etc.) the world itself is made up of continents that float in orbit around a central dense mass. The people of the world are just now beginning to discover flight and venture beyond their continents and meeting up with other races they didn't beleive existed. Religious faith and racial alliances are called into question as different cultures clash and attempt to co-exist. The story follows Raven, the daughter of an elfin Ambassador in a human city-state, as she and her friends are challenged with everything from war to heartbreak. Hopefully not typical, hopfully fairly shocking and heart warming and hopefully touching on a huge number of social issues, Culture has been a work in progress for years and more than likely will continue to be a work in progress for many more years. Updates when possible.

Water
Next to Culutre sits Water. Far older (I recently found the original script I wrote for Water back in grade 10... thats seven years ago for you guys keeping score at home) I started actively working on this about a week ago again and am very pleased with how its turning out. The story centers on Anne Tourcoat who believes her father was lost at sea when he was being arrested for treason many years ago. Now she recieves evidence that her father is alive, and that her father's old men are looking for her. As it turns out, Anne's father shut a portal of power from the other side and Anne (being of the same blood as her father) is the only thing that can both open the portal and save her father. Theres a bit more to it than that, of course, but thats all I'll telling right now.

Various others...
All the TICM comic projects I've worked on, Renaissance: Immortal Dance is a gothic vampire story set in town rife with immortals living along side ignorant mortals. Dusk Till Dawn is a pure fantasy I wrote about a single night in the life of two university students in a small town. Other here again gone again stories like Robots and Jungles, an excuse to make hill-billy military Robot pilots; Under the Green Roof a realistic story about an odd ball family; Underhouse, one of those ideas in my head that has alot of notes but absolutely no start to it... Thats all there is at the moment, looking back it sure looks like enough.

Well alright thats enough for one post. I'll be posting updates and content as time allows. Thank you everyone for visiting and take care out there!

John.
The Writer.

2006-04-04T12:26:00.000-07:00

Alright, so in accordance with 4th Watch Studios projects, Josh and I have decided to maintain separate blogs running along side the Studio blog. Haha Sooo this is all me. I'll be posting links to my projects, progress reports on side projects and a little bit of this and that too. Pretty much I'm just posting this post to see how the blog looks. Will do a better post later.

John
The Writer.