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.

Mixing it up.

I figure its about time to put my heart on my sleeve and let everyone in on a little secret of mine: I love long stories. I really do! I like watching characters run through their adventures over the course of months and years, through different arcs and different seasons. Given enough time we begin to expect certain things, know all the references and why a character might act a certain way. That sort of knowledge base has to built over time, there's no other way to do it. It's a natural progression of plot and history that's much like life expierence.

Now, and this is the beautiful thing, a story can hit a spot where there is enough accumulated reader expierence with the story that the reader takes certain things for granted. The writer, if they are attuned to this, can go two ways with this certain 'reader state':

1) A writer can streamline their writing. As long as the reader is current on all the story content up to a certain point, a writer can take liberties and move on to new things, building on the old.

2) A writer can completely change the direction of the story. This is actually nessesary at a certain point in the story to breath new life into it. The same pony doing the same tricks can at times become boring if not handled correctly.

I was thinking a bit about this today and it really just bioled down to that. Any writer trying to build an epic world and story has to do so slowly, building on each subsequent piece of information. Tolkien and Jordan used a classic method I like to call 'the student character' that the writer can teach with a teacher character. In this way the reader learns naturally along with the naive character about how the world works outside of the student character's isolate existance.

I think more than anything I'm tired and wanted to write a little something. This whole thing was inspired by Scott Kurtz's www.pvp-online.com recent events. He really shook up a world that had been since set in stone of some sort. Two characters marrying, effectively removing a character and updating the art for two others through scandaleous means. It's a bold move that may frighten some readers, anger others and invigorate the rest and I say hats off to you Scott, hats off to you.

John.

More Blog wit!

Ok so I've kinda been neglecting this blog, but that doesn't mean I haven't been busy. On teh writing side of things I've been tuning 'Culture' working a bit on a project my good friend Saara suggested (It's called 'Mirror, Mirror' and so far its been a blast to write!) and of course work has started on the next Parable anthology. We're doing a Piper Sorrow's story, a modified version of 'Trust in the Snow' it's shaping up to be fantastic. :) As well as all that I've been helping to keep the blog updated at the Parable website. Twice a month you can read my literary genius. Visit, enjoy and the reflect on teh hidden mysteries that lie within those simple words.

On the normal life side of things the wedding is fast approaching. I'd liken it to train jumping just 'cause it's exciting, unstoppable and possibly very dangerous. Still lots of fun, but lots of planning to keep us busy. We also just got our condo whose walls are like a pubescent boy; covered in bumps and irregulairties. We will be first filling, then sanding and THEN painting these walls so that we can take some pride in being home owners.

Comic wise I NEED to send clue everyone into this man and his work. http://endling.deviantart.com/ As an artist he's fantastic, but as a mind he is more than that. Each character is fantastic yet still beleivable; their abilities, traits and personalities a fount of inspiration. Then move to the writing. It's work with layers, and each next layer is as good or better than the previous in such a manner that once you start digging, you may never, ever find your way out.

And check this comic as well. I found it by chance and I'm glad that I did: http://lfgcomic.com/

On teh wirting side, I may post some Mirror, Mirror as it gets worked on, but those that hold hope of this may be disappionted. I think, for the summer at least, most of my writing will be focused on Parable and then on personal projects as time allows. I'll try and keep some updates coming, but until the wedding's over and we're moved in comfortably, I can't see my free time being my own anymore.

Thanks for reading!

John, the Writer.

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

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

Sorrowful confessions ~part 2~

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

To all those friends we forget so easily...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Piper Sorrows coming, I promise.

John, the Writer.

Last legs of a pretty darn good year.

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

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

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

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

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

John, the writer.

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

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

John, the Writer.

Nano is like a relationship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John, the Writer

P.S. 27559 words and counting ;)

Update from Nano...

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

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

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

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

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

John, the Writer.

Update from Nano...

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

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

John, the Writer

Culture:

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

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

Sorrowful Confessions ~Part One~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John, the writer.

My Adventures thus far as a Canadian Juror...

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

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

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

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

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

John.

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

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

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

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

"Please Sir..."

"Please..."

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

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

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

"I have... nothing..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Piper smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What manner of magic is this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tales of Sorrow...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You no make trouble?" He rummbled.

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

"How do I know?"

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

The Stone turned slowly "Mistress?"

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

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

He started to speak but she raised her hand.

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

"I gave my word on Kanas..."

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

"So be it..."

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

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

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

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

"This house is... undone!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


John.

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

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

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

John, the writer.