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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.