Bacil Donovan Warren's Blog, page 7
June 29, 2016
Audiobook progress
In my last two entries, I posted my workflow and my toolset for narrating my own audiobooks. A couple of days ago, I uploaded some test files to ACX's audio QA site. They have a 10-day queue, it seems, so I won't know for several more days what the QA results show. When they do I'll have a better idea what (if any) mistakes I made in my workflow, and I'll share that.
I also had a really fantastic day bargain-shopping yesterday; I found myself at Bookman's (a local resale store here in Tucson) looking for some second-hand DVDs. I'd been visiting the Bookman's stores periodically and had noticed in the past that they also carry second-hand musical instruments and equipment. While there, I happened to notice one of their employees working in that section, and asked him about shotgun microphones. It just so happened they'd just gotten one in, and I managed to land a super-cardioid dynamic shotgun Audio-Technica microphone for about 25% of what it sold for new. That will come in handy with my Almost 22 film project, but also for recording With It or in It .
So, the take-home for me there is: scour your local second-hand shops! You may find something really awesome in there! I'll also let you all know when ACX gets back to me about the QA results.
Also, once I get Hooray for Pain! finished and uploaded, and have the workflow & toolset more finalized, I'm going to post a series of videos on what I did, and how I did it.
I also had a really fantastic day bargain-shopping yesterday; I found myself at Bookman's (a local resale store here in Tucson) looking for some second-hand DVDs. I'd been visiting the Bookman's stores periodically and had noticed in the past that they also carry second-hand musical instruments and equipment. While there, I happened to notice one of their employees working in that section, and asked him about shotgun microphones. It just so happened they'd just gotten one in, and I managed to land a super-cardioid dynamic shotgun Audio-Technica microphone for about 25% of what it sold for new. That will come in handy with my Almost 22 film project, but also for recording With It or in It .
So, the take-home for me there is: scour your local second-hand shops! You may find something really awesome in there! I'll also let you all know when ACX gets back to me about the QA results.
Also, once I get Hooray for Pain! finished and uploaded, and have the workflow & toolset more finalized, I'm going to post a series of videos on what I did, and how I did it.
June 22, 2016
My Audiobook Workflow
As you may recall from my last posting, I am working on getting my two books Hooray for Pain! and With It or in It into audio book format. I promised a look at my workflow, so here it is!
So, here are the steps I've been using. Since this is a book of poetry, each file is really very short and it makes more sense to me to do each one, one at a time.
Record the audio using the Røde VideoMic Me attached to my iPad or iPhone (using GarageBand with the Monitor setting enabled)The Audio Genie II is plugged into the monitor jack in the back of the microphone.Using Sound Studio's visual VU meters, adjust the gain on the Audio Genie to get mostly green levels.Start recording in Sound Studio, switch over to the Kindle app on my mac (I read directly from the version of the book I uploaded to KDP), and sit quietly for a momentRead the poem. I position the Kindle app and Sound Studio so that I can see the VU meters below, and it will alert me if I'm getting into the yellow levels.Finish recording, sit quietly for a count of three, and then switch back to Sound Studio and stop recording.Listen to the captured audio as-is. If I don't like it, re-record.Click "Normalize" on the toolbar in Sound Studio, with a peak setting of -3 dB (this will give it a little headroom)Listen to the Normalized file. If it sounds good, save the file.I save my files at this point as AAC files with a 320 kbps bit rate. For a really long file I might choose a slower bit rate, but for these files (which are < 1 minute, mostly) it's not a big deal.When I save it, I learned a trick from Izzy Hyman (of http://www.izzyvideo.com/ ) to make it easy to import into Final Cut. In Final Cut Pro X, you can drag a folder into the Music and Sound Browser and it will add it to the sources you can use directly in Final Cut. So I save the files from Sound Studio into a subfolder I created for this project, under the folder I dragged into Final Cut.Make the edits in Final Cut ProAdd the saved file to my working library in Final Cut, create a new Event for it, and add the sound file to the new event in the TimelineAfter much experimentation, I saved an Effects Preset that combines my starting point for a Noise Gate, Noise Reduction, Doubler, and Volume. I saved the preset and made it my default audio effect through the Final Cut interface, and then I drag the effect onto my audio track. Here are what the settings are/mean:Noise Gate will essentially drop all sound below a decibel threshold. I start with a default of -48 dB and adjust it by listening to the clip all the way through. You'll need to find a decibel setting that doesn't clip your softest speaking parts.Final Cut has outstanding Audio Analysis, and I use their Noise Reduction on top of the Noise Gate. By default, I use a setting of 50%, but occasionally need to bump it up a little higher … especially in Tucson, during the Summer, when it's 110° F and the A/C kicks on every few minutes.There is also an option to de-hum, to adjust for AC electrical current, so if you are using a mic that is connected to electrical (this one is not) you might consider fiddling with that setting as well. I leave the EQ flat, and I don't add any of the reverb settings from Final Cut, but instead use the Doubler effect with about a 1.05 setting. In essence, this fills out the voice sound by simply repeating it, 0.05 seconds later. It's kind of a cheater's reverb but without some of the obviousness of reverb. If that makes any sense. You could get the same effect by duplicating the audio track, turning off the snap-to-magnet setting on the Timeline, and play around with exactly where the two tracks line up, but I think Doubler is just simpler.Then I listen to the clip in its entirety, watching the VU meter to make sure I don't have any peaks above -3 dB (which is what ACX, Audible's version of KDP, requires) and if I do, adjusting the clip volume down until all peaks are -3 dB or lower. I also listen for clipping of my voice, and if there is any I adjust the Noise Gate appropriately. If there is no clipping, but there is still any background noise, I adjust the Noise Reduction setting under Audio Enhancements.I also listen for "mouth noise" like lip smacking, obvious breaths, and so on. If I find any that sneak through the Noise Gate (which happens), I use the Range Selection tool of Final Cut, zoom way in on the Timeline (down to a few frames, usually), and then put a range around the noise. Once selected, I can pull the volume on that range down to -∞ dB, which eliminates the noise without affecting the timing. If you're careful about how you breath when you are reading, you should be able to isolate these without affecting any actual speaking. It will help to read very deliberately. My prior experience as an actor and singer (when I was younger) helps!Finally, I find the beginning of my actual narration, backtrack two frames less than 1 second, and use the blade tool to remove everything before that. I then repeat this at the end, but with a 2-ish second tail. ACX requires a 0.5–1-second head, and a 1–5-second tail on every file.Once I have the edited sound the way I want it, I do a Share->Master File on the current Project. I set it to be Audio Only, and output as an AAC file. You can output it as an MP3 directly from here, but I take one additional step because Final Cut doesn't give you any options to set the bit rate mode or quality settings.Open the AAC file in Audacity. Using Audacity to convert the AAC file to an MP3 gives more options for the saved MP3 file.Once opened, I Export Audio… and use the following settings:Format: MP3Options: Bit Rate Mode: Constant, Quality: 192 kbps, Channel Mode: StereoThen I fill out Metadata tags as appropriateAnd that's my workflow. I haven't finished yet, so I can't guarantee that this will get approved by ACX. If it does, I'll post a blog entry confirming that; if not, I'll post a blog with the changes I needed to make. Also, I expect I may need to make changes when I start recording With It or in It, since the chapters can be their own files (and will be considerably longer than 1 minute, I suspect!). For doing one poem at a time (which is what ACX wants), this workflow ensures that I get each file done to the standards as best I can right now, and once done I can move to the next poem.
A couple of points: I use Final Cut Pro because my entire original plan was (and remains) to do filming, film/video editing, and it's unquestionably an excellent tool for that. I learned how to use it quite a while ago, when I first started the process of learning video & film editing, and I am very familiar with how to use it. It's expensive ($299 on the Mac App Store). I can certainly dig if you don't want to shell out scratch like that to edit audio; I didn't buy it for the audio. It just so happens that it is as excellent at audio editing as it is at video editing, and since I already had it, and knew how to use it, I adapted it to my workflow. If you're using something else, comment below so everyone can benefit from your experience as well!
So, here are the steps I've been using. Since this is a book of poetry, each file is really very short and it makes more sense to me to do each one, one at a time.
Record the audio using the Røde VideoMic Me attached to my iPad or iPhone (using GarageBand with the Monitor setting enabled)The Audio Genie II is plugged into the monitor jack in the back of the microphone.Using Sound Studio's visual VU meters, adjust the gain on the Audio Genie to get mostly green levels.Start recording in Sound Studio, switch over to the Kindle app on my mac (I read directly from the version of the book I uploaded to KDP), and sit quietly for a momentRead the poem. I position the Kindle app and Sound Studio so that I can see the VU meters below, and it will alert me if I'm getting into the yellow levels.Finish recording, sit quietly for a count of three, and then switch back to Sound Studio and stop recording.Listen to the captured audio as-is. If I don't like it, re-record.Click "Normalize" on the toolbar in Sound Studio, with a peak setting of -3 dB (this will give it a little headroom)Listen to the Normalized file. If it sounds good, save the file.I save my files at this point as AAC files with a 320 kbps bit rate. For a really long file I might choose a slower bit rate, but for these files (which are < 1 minute, mostly) it's not a big deal.When I save it, I learned a trick from Izzy Hyman (of http://www.izzyvideo.com/ ) to make it easy to import into Final Cut. In Final Cut Pro X, you can drag a folder into the Music and Sound Browser and it will add it to the sources you can use directly in Final Cut. So I save the files from Sound Studio into a subfolder I created for this project, under the folder I dragged into Final Cut.Make the edits in Final Cut ProAdd the saved file to my working library in Final Cut, create a new Event for it, and add the sound file to the new event in the TimelineAfter much experimentation, I saved an Effects Preset that combines my starting point for a Noise Gate, Noise Reduction, Doubler, and Volume. I saved the preset and made it my default audio effect through the Final Cut interface, and then I drag the effect onto my audio track. Here are what the settings are/mean:Noise Gate will essentially drop all sound below a decibel threshold. I start with a default of -48 dB and adjust it by listening to the clip all the way through. You'll need to find a decibel setting that doesn't clip your softest speaking parts.Final Cut has outstanding Audio Analysis, and I use their Noise Reduction on top of the Noise Gate. By default, I use a setting of 50%, but occasionally need to bump it up a little higher … especially in Tucson, during the Summer, when it's 110° F and the A/C kicks on every few minutes.There is also an option to de-hum, to adjust for AC electrical current, so if you are using a mic that is connected to electrical (this one is not) you might consider fiddling with that setting as well. I leave the EQ flat, and I don't add any of the reverb settings from Final Cut, but instead use the Doubler effect with about a 1.05 setting. In essence, this fills out the voice sound by simply repeating it, 0.05 seconds later. It's kind of a cheater's reverb but without some of the obviousness of reverb. If that makes any sense. You could get the same effect by duplicating the audio track, turning off the snap-to-magnet setting on the Timeline, and play around with exactly where the two tracks line up, but I think Doubler is just simpler.Then I listen to the clip in its entirety, watching the VU meter to make sure I don't have any peaks above -3 dB (which is what ACX, Audible's version of KDP, requires) and if I do, adjusting the clip volume down until all peaks are -3 dB or lower. I also listen for clipping of my voice, and if there is any I adjust the Noise Gate appropriately. If there is no clipping, but there is still any background noise, I adjust the Noise Reduction setting under Audio Enhancements.I also listen for "mouth noise" like lip smacking, obvious breaths, and so on. If I find any that sneak through the Noise Gate (which happens), I use the Range Selection tool of Final Cut, zoom way in on the Timeline (down to a few frames, usually), and then put a range around the noise. Once selected, I can pull the volume on that range down to -∞ dB, which eliminates the noise without affecting the timing. If you're careful about how you breath when you are reading, you should be able to isolate these without affecting any actual speaking. It will help to read very deliberately. My prior experience as an actor and singer (when I was younger) helps!Finally, I find the beginning of my actual narration, backtrack two frames less than 1 second, and use the blade tool to remove everything before that. I then repeat this at the end, but with a 2-ish second tail. ACX requires a 0.5–1-second head, and a 1–5-second tail on every file.Once I have the edited sound the way I want it, I do a Share->Master File on the current Project. I set it to be Audio Only, and output as an AAC file. You can output it as an MP3 directly from here, but I take one additional step because Final Cut doesn't give you any options to set the bit rate mode or quality settings.Open the AAC file in Audacity. Using Audacity to convert the AAC file to an MP3 gives more options for the saved MP3 file.Once opened, I Export Audio… and use the following settings:Format: MP3Options: Bit Rate Mode: Constant, Quality: 192 kbps, Channel Mode: StereoThen I fill out Metadata tags as appropriateAnd that's my workflow. I haven't finished yet, so I can't guarantee that this will get approved by ACX. If it does, I'll post a blog entry confirming that; if not, I'll post a blog with the changes I needed to make. Also, I expect I may need to make changes when I start recording With It or in It, since the chapters can be their own files (and will be considerably longer than 1 minute, I suspect!). For doing one poem at a time (which is what ACX wants), this workflow ensures that I get each file done to the standards as best I can right now, and once done I can move to the next poem.
A couple of points: I use Final Cut Pro because my entire original plan was (and remains) to do filming, film/video editing, and it's unquestionably an excellent tool for that. I learned how to use it quite a while ago, when I first started the process of learning video & film editing, and I am very familiar with how to use it. It's expensive ($299 on the Mac App Store). I can certainly dig if you don't want to shell out scratch like that to edit audio; I didn't buy it for the audio. It just so happens that it is as excellent at audio editing as it is at video editing, and since I already had it, and knew how to use it, I adapted it to my workflow. If you're using something else, comment below so everyone can benefit from your experience as well!
June 21, 2016
Audiobook Tools and Process
In my last blog, I promised a look at the tools and process I am using to create the audiobook of both Hooray for Pain! and With It or in It. Today's blog will cover the tools I am using, and my next one will detail the process I use from beginning to end.
To start, the hardware (quick note, I was not given any of these products, for a review or otherwise):
MacBook Air (mid-2013 13" in my case, but any Mac laptop or even desktop can replace it)iPad Air 2 (more on this in a minute)Røde VideoMic MeAmerican Audio Audio Genie II (more on this in a minute) and an RCA-to-Mini microphone/headphone cableAnd the software:GarageBand for iOS (although, for how I'm using this microphone, any iOS recording software will do fine)Sound Studio for Mac OSFinal Cut Pro X for Mac OSNow, a little bit about the iPad and Audio Genie II. I initially bought the Røde VideoMic Me as part of an effort to upgrade the audio capture for a film project I'm pursuing (Almost 22). The microphones on the iPhone and iPad are okay for FaceTime and telephone calls and telling Siri where to go when she doesn't understand you, but they are not professional quality audio. While I'd prefer to have a couple of boom shotgun mics—which would definitely be part of the audio upgrade for my Indiegogo project—the small shotgun Røde VideoMic Me is a reasonable first step. It allows me to capture audio separately from video, and position audio capture equipment to get the best sound, as this is not always the same direction as the lens will face. When I initially started using the mic, I would plug it into my iPad and record directly into GarageBand for iOS.
While going through some items that are left over from my father's estate, one of the things I happened across was the Audio Genie II and RCA adapter cable. Dad was a musician all of his life, professionally with the Army for 20+ years and later as a music teacher in high school and middle school music programs. He had all kinds of recording and sound equipment, some of which was many years old (reel-to-reel tape recording equipment, for example) and either non-functional or no longer really useful. We've sold off most of the equipment that we could and donated what we couldn't sell, but there were still several boxes & bags of things we'd not finished going through yet. In one of those was the Audio Genie II. Essentially, what this device is, is an analog-to-digital sound conversion device, with a small built-in pre-amp. The controls are minimal: a Line/Phono switch and a gain knob. That gain knob really is what I was after: the ability to amplify the raw audio signal before conversion. The VideoMic Me has a monitor mini-mic in the back, useful for monitoring the sound while recording.
So, now what I could do was take the sound as heard by the mic, immediately increase the gain, and send it straight to my Mac (in Sound Studio). For me, this is useful in a studio setting, such as at home recording an audiobook. This would not be my preferred setup for capturing audio on a set or on location while filming, for that I'd capture into GarageBand on the iPad and transfer later. But in the Studio setup, for me it works better to send it straight to the Mac.
Now, if I had to start all over again but knowing in advance I had the Audio Genie II … well, I might still have gotten the VideoMic Me anyway, because I didn't initially have the thought for studio work, it was (and remains) focused on the film project. It just happens to work out that now, in the studio, I can send the audio straight to my computer instead of doing an intermediate capture on the iPad.
In the next blog, I'll do a step-by-step of how I'm capturing audio now, as well as the editing I do once I have it captured. At the end of this process, I will also put together a video demo of how I do this, which may make it easier on you. 'Till next time!
To start, the hardware (quick note, I was not given any of these products, for a review or otherwise):
MacBook Air (mid-2013 13" in my case, but any Mac laptop or even desktop can replace it)iPad Air 2 (more on this in a minute)Røde VideoMic MeAmerican Audio Audio Genie II (more on this in a minute) and an RCA-to-Mini microphone/headphone cableAnd the software:GarageBand for iOS (although, for how I'm using this microphone, any iOS recording software will do fine)Sound Studio for Mac OSFinal Cut Pro X for Mac OSNow, a little bit about the iPad and Audio Genie II. I initially bought the Røde VideoMic Me as part of an effort to upgrade the audio capture for a film project I'm pursuing (Almost 22). The microphones on the iPhone and iPad are okay for FaceTime and telephone calls and telling Siri where to go when she doesn't understand you, but they are not professional quality audio. While I'd prefer to have a couple of boom shotgun mics—which would definitely be part of the audio upgrade for my Indiegogo project—the small shotgun Røde VideoMic Me is a reasonable first step. It allows me to capture audio separately from video, and position audio capture equipment to get the best sound, as this is not always the same direction as the lens will face. When I initially started using the mic, I would plug it into my iPad and record directly into GarageBand for iOS.
While going through some items that are left over from my father's estate, one of the things I happened across was the Audio Genie II and RCA adapter cable. Dad was a musician all of his life, professionally with the Army for 20+ years and later as a music teacher in high school and middle school music programs. He had all kinds of recording and sound equipment, some of which was many years old (reel-to-reel tape recording equipment, for example) and either non-functional or no longer really useful. We've sold off most of the equipment that we could and donated what we couldn't sell, but there were still several boxes & bags of things we'd not finished going through yet. In one of those was the Audio Genie II. Essentially, what this device is, is an analog-to-digital sound conversion device, with a small built-in pre-amp. The controls are minimal: a Line/Phono switch and a gain knob. That gain knob really is what I was after: the ability to amplify the raw audio signal before conversion. The VideoMic Me has a monitor mini-mic in the back, useful for monitoring the sound while recording.
So, now what I could do was take the sound as heard by the mic, immediately increase the gain, and send it straight to my Mac (in Sound Studio). For me, this is useful in a studio setting, such as at home recording an audiobook. This would not be my preferred setup for capturing audio on a set or on location while filming, for that I'd capture into GarageBand on the iPad and transfer later. But in the Studio setup, for me it works better to send it straight to the Mac.
Now, if I had to start all over again but knowing in advance I had the Audio Genie II … well, I might still have gotten the VideoMic Me anyway, because I didn't initially have the thought for studio work, it was (and remains) focused on the film project. It just happens to work out that now, in the studio, I can send the audio straight to my computer instead of doing an intermediate capture on the iPad.
In the next blog, I'll do a step-by-step of how I'm capturing audio now, as well as the editing I do once I have it captured. At the end of this process, I will also put together a video demo of how I do this, which may make it easier on you. 'Till next time!
June 20, 2016
Audiobook progress
I have been working really hard on getting some crowdfunding for a film project (Almost 22, a film about the risk of suicide with veterans and first responders), and now am starting with the process of tackling the audiobook versions of both Hooray for Pain! and With It or in It.
As a follow up in a day or so, I will also be posting a breakdown of the process and tools I've been using to produce the audio files for these two audiobooks, so hopefully other authors who wish to produce their own audiobooks can do so simply.
As a follow up in a day or so, I will also be posting a breakdown of the process and tools I've been using to produce the audio files for these two audiobooks, so hopefully other authors who wish to produce their own audiobooks can do so simply.
April 26, 2016
Section one of Part 1 of Scroll of Mirimar
As promised, here's section 1 of the first part of Scroll of Mirimar. I hope you enjoy these free previews; do keep in mind that this is still a bit of a work in progress, and so things might change in their final form. Cheers!
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The Offer
9th day of the month Erhar by Man calendar, Year of King Erondel I 51, 275 years after the start of the Second Human Rule.
“Tey, what do you make of this?”Tey Knowlton looks up from the beer menu at the bar and picks his half-elven friend Emker out over near the far wall. The tavern is mostly empty, save a town drunk in the darkened corner, off to the far left, and two ladies sitting at a table to his right. As he stands, he can see two of his other mates, Qit duMoran and Fenit Baldoné, in the near left corner table playing what appears to be a quiet game of cards. It has been too quiet lately, Tey notes to himself. In the near right corner, he can hear Yeolin tuning his guitar, preparing to play a bawdy drinking song, no doubt. Yeolin must not have seen that Qit and Fenit are playing cards, that would have been too much for him to resist!Tey walks the thirty or so feet to the southeast wall where Emker stands reading a notice tacked on the wall:
Need Help (finding item of great personal value); Rich rewards!I have uncovered information about a scroll written by one of my forebears which has been lost for a number of years. For the right man or men, I will provide money for provisions and a small incidental fund, and offer large sums of gold and jewels for successfully returning this scroll. My liaison will be in the Tavern of the Graceful Goose sundown to mid-eve bell on Erhar 7-10. signed
“What I make of it is that a local mage, or bard, with a long family history in the area, has discovered that his family had lost important papers and he has discovered where they may be. I also make that he has a lot of money to spend on us to find it for him. Other than that, I don't make much of it at all.” Tey grins his most smart-alecky grin. The room seems to light imperceptibly at his smile. Though his countenance is a bit mis-fair, due to the long scar on his cheek, Tey's smile has a gleam that belies his otherwise stern, even gruff appearance.“It does look like that doesn't it?” Emker glances at his card-playing compatriots, deciding better of bringing them over to read the notice. “I know we're still a bit flush from our last adventure, but I'd like to check this one out.” He steals a glance at his long time friend, and recognizes the mischievous look Tey casts. He often looks that way when he senses great glory or riches lie within his reach.“I'm up for another noble quest!” Tey replies. “But I think we can wait until tomorrow to discuss it with the others.”Emker nods, and he and Tey both amble back to their table to indulge in a Simnod Goose Pie and quaff some local ale.Yeolin finishes tuning and begins strumming a tune not likely known to the locals but quite popular in the Long Lands, an archipelago in the Gleasi Sea known for its prowess in seafaring, as well as their frequent coastal raids:
Upon the water have I sailed And underneath the sun I've had the best of Long Land ale o'er weeks of sailing fun We've conquered lands both far and wide since time forgot to tell but now that we're in port again we're ringing out the bells
A sailor life a life I lead Is full of danger and reward cross us not, your lands we leave otherwise your ships we board do not regret the fighting day we sent your sons in boxes home for after our ships sailed away you knew that we were likely done
Since the tavern is nearly empty, and the only people there are either friends of Yeolin, are employees of the tavern, or are passed out, Yeolin feels the dank pressure of the room's air as he sings and switches tunes to a lullaby:
Rest, rest, the night is coming nigh Bury now your body deep into blankets piled high A pillow rests for you to dream And having dreamt your night away, waking brings in a new day
Yeolin hums the remainder of the lullaby as he strums softly, now playing rather more for his own amusement than for anyone else's enjoyment.
Decisions
Erhar 10
“We've all now read the notice, and it is time to decide.” Tey starts the meetings, being the nominal leader. “Will we answer this notice, will we wait for another opportunity, or will we leave town completely?”Qit is sitting with her cowl pulled very closely around her face, arms folded across her chest. She rarely speaks except to cast spells in combat, but when she does speak her throaty contralto stops most other noise around her. “I have mixed feelings here, but my research through the night didn't reveal any particularly troublesome issues. I vote to answer it.”“As with my prayers,” says Fenit, resting his right arm on the table. “Pandric has sent me no signs of imminent trouble, though I was touched by a distant fear and evil. I do not yet know from where they come, and so I also vote to answer.”The air of the room seems heavy and thick, even without the smoke and haze of a night full of drinking, smoking, and gambling. Tey turns about, and seeks out the liaison mentioned in the notice. “I think I see him, there in the corner table. He's the only one in here sitting alone, and he rather looks as if he's waiting to be talked to.”Straightening slightly, Emker finds the solitary figure and nods slowly. “That's him. I noticed him as we walked in earlier. He doesn't look like a gambler; no cards, dice, or money is visible. He's not smoking or drinking, and though the band is playing a tune he neither sways nor taps his fingers with the music. He is waiting to be approached.”Though the cloak is pulled tight around his head, it does not cover his face. He knows he needs to see the room so as to identify potential respondents. I see they have identified me, the liaison thinks to himself. My lord Porthet is right: the right people are here, and they are about to approach me.“Emker and I will go to the man” Tey announces as Emker rises from the hardwood, roughly hewn table. “If he is the liaison, we'll know shortly. Qit, please order me a small ale and some food when the serving girl comes back.”“Leave your purse and I’ll think about it.”“Please? It would mean so much to my aching tummy!” Tey turns his head and does his best fake beggar face before squinting and tossing Qit a small jangling bag of coins “No fish.” He then rises to join his elven friend, and they make their way to the corner table to engage the man. As they approach, the liaison rises. “Good evening, lords. I am Porthet's liaison, here to meet potential men-for-hire to retrieve a family heirloom. Have you come to discuss this?”“We have indeed, good sir.” Tey examines the liaison. He's a good six feet, but not much of body. Probably a wizard's apprentice. “May we sit with you?”“Please, have a chair, each of you. I will have the good Lady bring food shortly, if you wish.”The three sit, Emker and Tey on the close side, and the liaison on the far. Emker, being trained in the Elven ways of observation and attention to detail, takes some few seconds to evaluate the immediate situation. There, across the table, sits a man of far greater power than he lets on. He has no weapon on him, yet fears nothing here. He believes he is completely safe, in this place. “That will not be needed, thank you.”The liaison leans forward slightly, and the two friends lean in to hear. He speaks softly. “My lord Porthet has discovered what may be a very important family history, written many centuries ago on a scroll for safekeeping. It had been lost, and he has been working for several years on locating this particular document. He thinks he has located it, but is not in the physical nor mental condition to retrieve it for himself, and he wishes to maintain the strictest confidences about this lineage. He has some few friends in this region, and does not wish to risk revealing this to others outside with a message, lest a person bent on making fortunes from stolen artifacts come to know of it and take it for himself. He has asked me to screen potentials, and to determine their trustworthiness and skill. You have shown me your level of trust by approaching me without weapon or shifting eyes. I also see you have been giving me your attention, observing my actions and surroundings. But I must also ask you: why do I report to my lord that you are worth our trust?”Emker breathes deeply, and replies “you are correct that we have been observing you and our surroundings, and we have noticed you surveying us as well. In your observations, no doubt you have assessed that we are here speaking with you because the offer intrigues us, and that we are simply exploring the requirements. What you report to your lord, of course, is up to you. You can clearly see that we are here to work, not to steal.” His father’s insistence on learning the forms and intricacies of diplomacy has long since proven its worth, but here and now Emker sees additional wisdom in it: even in small towns, with small minds and small actors, knowing the ways can be a huge advantage.The liaison relaxes slightly and pauses. “Yes. You understand my caution, however.”“Of course. Your lord Porthet has done well in choosing you for this task.” Emker hopes the compliment is taken correctly—as a signal that they are ready to take another step forward in negotiations, and not as a sycophantic pandering to his ego—and maintains eye contact with the liaison.This is a trained negotiator, excellent. My Lord’s prophetic vision proves itself yet again. “My thanks to you, sir … ?” The liaison pauses to catch the elf’s name.“Emker.”“My thanks to you, Emker,” the liaison replies, bows his head slightly, and averts his gaze down and back up awaiting the reply.Emker replies exactly in kind, and says “the thanks are also to you, kind sir.” Now, having seen to the most formal parts of the introduction, they could get down to some more relaxed discussion. “A family heirloom, lineages written on a scroll. By itself, not a huge task.”“Yes, indeed. If it were merely stored in a distant library or some dusty scriptorium in a far-flung city archive, that would be simple enough. It appears that the original hiding place was intended to attract very little attention, and was ransacked and the item moved multiple times over history, probably by low-brain brigands, possibly orc or goblin or kobold raiders who never thought twice about it. That it appears to be possibly intact is no small miracle, but there’s no telling how true that is, nor for how long, until it can be secured and properly examined. So the task of confirming the location and securing the item may not be … peaceful, shall we say? … but my lord is prepared to offer considerable recompense for the effort.”Tey, sitting quietly, observes a slight relaxation and deepening of trust from the liaison during this interaction. Although his own training in perception is not as formal as his elvish friend’s, his own father brought him up to be an astute judge of people by observation alone. Growing up beside his father as a horse trainer and seller, it was crucial to be able to detect insincerity quickly—especially if it was a prelude to a robbery attempt—and Tey took to it readily and well. Hm, probably not noble, but a reasonably honest man I think. He continued observing as Emker spoke.“Of course, we’ll need further details before proceeding and I assume that your lord Porthet will want to meet us directly to discuss the fine points. I believe we can agree to do that sometime soon?” Emker asks.“Will tomorrow after breakfast be suitable? I know my lord will want to meet you as soon as is feasible for you but cannot meet tonight due to standing obligations.”Emker glanced at Tey, who gave a slight nod. “Very well, tomorrow after breakfast we shall meet with your lord Porthet. Shall we come here first or is there a better location?”“Here is best. I can then take you to him after. In the interest of discreetness, I will ask that you please keep our discussions between us—of course your entire group must know—at least until tomorrow?”“Yes, you have our word on the matter.” The final forms. “We shall await tomorrow’s gathering with a lightness on our lips. Until then.” Emker rose and Tey rose with him. They both bowed slightly.The liaison stood and bowed, saying “until then, may the graces of your Gods dance with your dreams.”With that, the two friends turned back toward their compatriots and rejoined them.“I ordered you the fish. It’s cold now,” was Qit’s first reaction to their return.Tey looked down and saw a buttery trout fillet, lying on a bed of greens and rice, but didn’t believe the illusion. Momentarily Qit’s magical illusion shifted to reveal a bowl of chicken stew, a meal much more suited to his personal tastes.“I see that. Thank you for the stew, it will look quite tasty when I dump it on your lap.” Tey mockingly picked up the bowl and glared menacingly before sitting down to devour dinner. It was better than he expected.Fenit spoke up. “And so … ?”Emker sat for a moment and drew a small quaff of the small beer one of the party had ordered for him during his absence. “Well, the offer appears genuine, and we are to meet here tomorrow morning after breakfast. The man we met will then take us to meet his lord Porthet, who will discuss specific details. Essentially, he’s discovered some family lineage thought long lost, and it may be in the possession of one of the fouler small-race creatures native to the hill and mountain regions in the area. Specifically named were orc, goblin, or kobold clans, but as we all know it could be a wide range of creatures. Heck, depending on where it is reported that this lineage is to be found, it is entirely possible to be in the hands of gnolls, or lizard people, or even ogres. When we meet tomorrow we’ll obviously have a better idea where we’re off to and what we’ll find.”Yeolin, who has been sitting thoughtfully until now says “once we have heard the full offer and details, we should probably do a little research before simply agreeing. Unless it’s in an area we already know very well, of course. I mean, if it’s in the foothills of the Gion mountains we have a reasonably good idea what we might find and how to prepare. What if it turns out to be in the Kitlean jungles or the marshlands at the mouth of the Kitlean delta? I know a little bit about that area, but not enough to plan, and I don’t think anyone here knows that area well enough to really help out.”Fenit nods slowly, as does Qit.“Our bardic friend has a great point.” Qit’s monotone delivery belies her concern. “We should at least ask for time to decide after hearing the full details. However, our new acquaintance may be reluctant to treat with us unless we give him some reassurance of complete discretion, which may preclude our being too inquisitive about any areas with which we are unfamiliar. He is looking for assistance from people who will keep this in confidence, and our asking for a delay in order to ask a bunch of questions of the locals about the very area he is hoping to keep a secret may prove to be excessive. We should be very cautious how we approach this.”“Yes, yes, all true. But also speculative, since the man’s lord may himself know the area well enough to give us a good start, and from there we can be more circumspect in our queries.” Tey continued “but none of this is really something we have to decide immediately anyway. We should finish, enjoy our evening, and rest. Has anyone made inquiries about lodging?”Fenit rises and says “I will take care of the sleeping arrangements. Try not to get arrested while I am gone.”Emker stares at the well-built holy man and replies “no promises, your eminence. Keep a coin purse just in case” and tosses a bag of money at the cleric, who catches it easily. “The town guard here looks ill-equipped for our kind of shenanigans, so they may be more strict than usual.”Fenit chuckles quietly, shakes his head, and walks toward the bar to inquire about bed availability.
Meeting the Mage
Erhar 11. Approximately 10 in the morning
Porthet sits at the head of the long eating table, chewing softly on a twig of Alder-wood while the liaison stoops over to whisper in his ear. Tey sizes him up, and Emker notices that the visage of the elderly mage resembles some paintings he'd seen in the Great Hall of Zin on a visit there as a young Ranger, taking a pilgrimage to the Tombs of the Elven Kings. As they are examining their surroundings, Porthet stands and his liaison leaves through the door behind them.“My liaison has informed me that you've agreed to find my family's scroll. I agree with his initial impression, that you've all made quite the names for yourselves, and are likely to be exactly the people I'm looking for.“Here are the details that I have so far. There is in my family history a mage from the Tloi region, working with the first Elven King there during the First Elven Rule. He wrote some important genealogical information, as well as some researched spells, into a book which was lost after his death. For several generations, it remained hidden, and was uncovered sometime during the Second Elven Rule by a man who is related by blood to this mage, but is a distant relative of my family. He proceeded to write some of the books contents to scrolls, presumably to make them easier to carry in small batches, but was the victim of some accident before he finished his copying. Two of these scrolls are known to have lasted through the ages; the first was discovered some sixty years ago. The second, I have just discovered that it exists, and have some preliminary information about its likely location.“As far as anyone can determine, the original book is likely forever lost, and these scrolls are all that's left of my family's history in this region, at least as recorded by our family directly. The information within the scroll is very important to my family, and I am willing to pay enormous rewards to you, should you recover it. There are two conditions: you must bring the scroll to me as is, without opening it or otherwise gaining the contents of it, as there may be family history there that is best left within the family; you must keep your involvement in this matter as quiet as possible. I do not fear anyone knowing that you are working for me, but the scroll itself may be an extremely valuable token, especially in the antiquities market apart from its actual contents, and I would prefer that it not become the object of a contested ownership hearing in the King's Court. If you can agree to these conditions, I will tell you what I offer and where to find it.”“We will need to discuss the conditions you've imposed,” says Tey. “If you will give us time to discuss this, we can answer you by this evening.”“Fine, take until this evening to talk it over. I will expect you before mid-eve bell; I will instruct the door keeper to admit you straightaway when you arrive.”The room is whisper-quiet, with only the sounds of their capes, robes, and cloaks swishing against their clothing to mark the party's passage out of Porthet's stone home.
April 25, 2016
Serial story—Scroll of Mirimar
After toying with the idea for a while, I've decided to go ahead and start publishing a serialized version of a story I've been writing. The story is the Scroll of Mirimar, and tells the story of a party of adventurers-for-hire that are employed to recover a document for a local noble, which turns out to be much more interesting than the noble ever let on—and, quite possibly, a very powerful, evil artifact. Or, it could be that the rumors they hear about it are designed to throw them off the trail so someone else can recover it for their own purposes. The truth reveals an ancient war, and the unknown outcome of several of the most important figures in that conflict—a conflict that shaped the history of the Elvish, Human, and even Necromatic Kingdoms of the continent for several centuries afterward.
I will be releasing them in serial here first. The Scroll of Mirimar will be in three parts total, with each part released in about four stages, over the course of a couple of weeks. Each part will be on the blog for a full month after the last stage is released of it. After that, it will be available for purchase at Amazon as a Kindle story for $0.99 US.
The first installment will be up Wednesday, and additional postings every few days after that. Feel free to leave feedback or ask questions about the setting, or the characters—understanding I don't want to spoil anything!—or really anything in the story or the process.
Anyway, I look forward to hearing your questions, and I hope you'll enjoy the story!
I will be releasing them in serial here first. The Scroll of Mirimar will be in three parts total, with each part released in about four stages, over the course of a couple of weeks. Each part will be on the blog for a full month after the last stage is released of it. After that, it will be available for purchase at Amazon as a Kindle story for $0.99 US.
The first installment will be up Wednesday, and additional postings every few days after that. Feel free to leave feedback or ask questions about the setting, or the characters—understanding I don't want to spoil anything!—or really anything in the story or the process.
Anyway, I look forward to hearing your questions, and I hope you'll enjoy the story!
April 5, 2016
CampNaNo novel teaser
Just thought I'd share some of the work-in-progress on With Honor, and with Courage, the novel I'm working on for CampNaNoWriMo. Just keep in mind this is a work in progress!
“Nut-to-butt, guys, make your buddy happy,” First Sergeant Farmer barked at us. It’s too early in the morning for this crap was all I could muster, since we’d been roused at 04:45 and sunrise wouldn’t be for almost another hour yet. Fortunately, there was a temporary mess hall set up in a nearby building, which was cranking out A Rations today—thank God. For some reason, Assassin troop wasn’t in front of us today. We were standing at the head of the Squadron column on the concrete apron in front of last night’s temporary barracks, facing toward the building with the kitchen facilities, but I could turn my head and see Chaos guys right behind us. Assassin was nowhere to be seen, however. I mentally shrugged. Finally, the doors opened up and we started moving through the chow line.Scrambled eggs, hash browns, assorted fruit, a sausage patty, a cup of OJ and a mug of coffee decorated my tray as I sat down with Dock and Mac. It took less than five minutes for the three of us to wolf breakfast down. I looked around to see who from our troop was still around, and I could see Top and the CO were still in line waiting to get their food. We had at least five more minutes, so I went to grab another mug of coffee.
“Sar’nt Mac, I’m getting more coffee, you need?”
“Nawp, I’m aight.”
“Dock?” Dock shook his head as he finished up his OJ, so I went over and refilled just my mug. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the Hummer pulling up to the front of the building, and saw the Squadron CO hop out like his pants were on fire. He headed straight for the CO in the mess line and whispered in his ear. The CO leaned over and appeared to reply back. The LTC then nodded and flew back out to his Hummer, which took off like a shot.
At that exchange, I figured that we only had a few minutes to get our shit together, so I headed back to the table. Mac appeared to witness it as well.
“Y’awn should hur-on up, we gon’ get moved out rightchawn quick,” he said as I approached.
I grabbed my paper tray, swallowed the mug of coffee in about two gulps while Dock and Mac both stood up and cleared out. The rest of the troop was not blind either, and everyone kinda picked up their pace or cleaned up right away. I noticed sergeant Furniss having a chat with the TCs.
As we were dumping our trash, SSG Beach walked up. “Guys, head back and grab your duffels. It looks like the timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be REDCON 1 in about fifteen minutes, got a truck coming for our gear, should be here in about twenty.”
“Yes, sar’nt” we replied almost in unison, then moved out to clear out our stuff.
It only took a couple of minutes, since nobody really unpacked anything. We bolted back out, carrying two duffels, a tactical bag, and a CVC helmet bag each. We knew roughly where we’d form up, so we laid down our stuff about where we’d be standing in formation.
Mac looked around for a second, then drawled “Lip, y’awn sit ti’ht. Dock, com’wi’me.” Mac and Dock then headed back into the building, leaving me to guard our stuff. A couple of minutes later they emerged with SSG Beach’s bags and headed back inside—presumably to offer help to any of the other crews.
***
Finally. Formation time. Wait, did I actually just breathe a sigh of relief about a formation? The company formed up, and the CO gave a last few words of a briefing: we are picking the vehicles up from the nearby port, where the Roll-on/roll-off ship has docked. Once they are off the ship, we drive them down to a nearby lot, where HETs are being staged. Load up onto the HETs, then follow the HETs in busses to an offload point near Vilnius.
***
I stand on the top of the HET cab, carefully giving Dock the hand signals to back off the HET—a job I hate, I just know one of these days the driver’s going to make a mistake, or I am, and the damned thing’s going to flip over on me—and he backs down like the carefree professional he is. We get the rest of the tanks offloaded, and assemble in the field just off the 5212 Highway a little west of Vilnius proper when I happen to catch the CO being yelled at by what appears to be a local, maybe a farmer? As he’s politely nodding his head our liaison officer makes a beeline for their conversation. I’m too far away to hear anything, but I’ll bet it’s the landowner all PO’ed about us driving our extremely heavy tanks and Strykers all over his freshly-mown lawn.
“LIP get over here!”
SSG Beach has noticed I’m not paying attention to him anymore, and so I haven’t noticed that the whole platoon is staring at me as I stare at the liaison and the CO try to calm the farmer down. I sheepishly dismount and speed walk over to the rest of the platoon, where LT Mashinter briefs us.“Alright, now that Lipscomb has deigned to grace us with his presence, here’s the plan for the next couple of days. Squadron has a TOC set up near Musninkai, up the 116 Highway from Vilnius. We’re going to road march in standard column formation from here, along the 5212 until the 116. SOP road march order. There will be a joint MP/local police post set up to make sure we can negotiate the transition without losing any stragglers or running over any locals. Black 5 will be in the lead Humvee, and will call out the checkpoints as he passes them, and Black 7 will be in the trail Humvee and will do the same when he clears them. Radio is per SOP and digi-keys. Disabled vehicles will pull to the right shoulder as far off the road as practical, and radio their position to Black 8 who will meet up with the vehicle and evaluate recovery options as needed. REDCON 1 in ten minutes. Fuel HEMTT will be here in about twenty minutes to top off, with start of movement in thirty. CO wants Black 5 crossing the LD in less than 45 minutes.
“After the road march, we will be forming a troop coil formation here,” he pointed at a spot on the map just North of Musninkai, and continued “and wait for the Mustang 5. When he arrives he will lead us in a road march to our AA for the evening, here about one and a half clicks Southeast of Liukonys. There we will form a troop coil, set security, and do a modified tailgate LOGPAC, sergeant Furniss will provide details upon arrival. We will stay overnight in the AA, and sergeant Furniss has a guard/sleep plan set up, with details upon arrival.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got. Any questions?”
No speaking, just the shaking of a few heads, answered the LT.
“Alright. Sergeant Furniss, they’re all yours.” With that, the LT nodded to the platoon sergeant and took off for the CO’s location.
“A’aight, take a knee chuckleheads. Let’s make this quick. Standard order with White 1, 2, 3, 4. Alternate gun tubes just like normal. Keep your distance, at least 50 meters between vehicles. I want to see your air guards up, and scan your lanes. Refuel will be a hot refuel. Red then White on the left HEMTT, Blue then Green on the right. 1 & 2 will fuel first followed by 3 & 4, 1 & 3 on the left side with 2 & 4 on the right. Be ready to pull up when it’s your turn in the line. Pull through after, you’ll see the Red elements stacked up near the road surface. Once we get the blitz order, Hush 2 on the radios except for bent units, unusual situations, or checkpoint clearance. Black 7 has set us up a good LOGPAC at the AA, but we’ll cover details on arrival. Any questions? Speak now or forever hold your peace!”
None of us are that stupid, really. Nobody had any questions, we’ve done this a bunch of times. Heck, the NTC rotation just before our deployment. I think sergeant Furniss gave this exact same speech there, too.
“A’aight. Let’s go. REDCON 1 in five.”
We broke up, and Dock and I started walking toward Bodacious. On the way, Dock started humming an old classic rock tune, “Black Water” by the Doobie Brothers. I started singing, Dock joined me, and Cooke joined in. We all three locked arms and started singing the chorus at the tops of our lungs, skipping all the way back to our tanks.
I could almost hear the rest of the platoon rolling their eyes at us. We didn’t care, we were damned if being deployed would crush our spirits.
“Nut-to-butt, guys, make your buddy happy,” First Sergeant Farmer barked at us. It’s too early in the morning for this crap was all I could muster, since we’d been roused at 04:45 and sunrise wouldn’t be for almost another hour yet. Fortunately, there was a temporary mess hall set up in a nearby building, which was cranking out A Rations today—thank God. For some reason, Assassin troop wasn’t in front of us today. We were standing at the head of the Squadron column on the concrete apron in front of last night’s temporary barracks, facing toward the building with the kitchen facilities, but I could turn my head and see Chaos guys right behind us. Assassin was nowhere to be seen, however. I mentally shrugged. Finally, the doors opened up and we started moving through the chow line.Scrambled eggs, hash browns, assorted fruit, a sausage patty, a cup of OJ and a mug of coffee decorated my tray as I sat down with Dock and Mac. It took less than five minutes for the three of us to wolf breakfast down. I looked around to see who from our troop was still around, and I could see Top and the CO were still in line waiting to get their food. We had at least five more minutes, so I went to grab another mug of coffee.
“Sar’nt Mac, I’m getting more coffee, you need?”
“Nawp, I’m aight.”
“Dock?” Dock shook his head as he finished up his OJ, so I went over and refilled just my mug. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the Hummer pulling up to the front of the building, and saw the Squadron CO hop out like his pants were on fire. He headed straight for the CO in the mess line and whispered in his ear. The CO leaned over and appeared to reply back. The LTC then nodded and flew back out to his Hummer, which took off like a shot.
At that exchange, I figured that we only had a few minutes to get our shit together, so I headed back to the table. Mac appeared to witness it as well.
“Y’awn should hur-on up, we gon’ get moved out rightchawn quick,” he said as I approached.
I grabbed my paper tray, swallowed the mug of coffee in about two gulps while Dock and Mac both stood up and cleared out. The rest of the troop was not blind either, and everyone kinda picked up their pace or cleaned up right away. I noticed sergeant Furniss having a chat with the TCs.
As we were dumping our trash, SSG Beach walked up. “Guys, head back and grab your duffels. It looks like the timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be REDCON 1 in about fifteen minutes, got a truck coming for our gear, should be here in about twenty.”
“Yes, sar’nt” we replied almost in unison, then moved out to clear out our stuff.
It only took a couple of minutes, since nobody really unpacked anything. We bolted back out, carrying two duffels, a tactical bag, and a CVC helmet bag each. We knew roughly where we’d form up, so we laid down our stuff about where we’d be standing in formation.
Mac looked around for a second, then drawled “Lip, y’awn sit ti’ht. Dock, com’wi’me.” Mac and Dock then headed back into the building, leaving me to guard our stuff. A couple of minutes later they emerged with SSG Beach’s bags and headed back inside—presumably to offer help to any of the other crews.
***
Finally. Formation time. Wait, did I actually just breathe a sigh of relief about a formation? The company formed up, and the CO gave a last few words of a briefing: we are picking the vehicles up from the nearby port, where the Roll-on/roll-off ship has docked. Once they are off the ship, we drive them down to a nearby lot, where HETs are being staged. Load up onto the HETs, then follow the HETs in busses to an offload point near Vilnius.
***
I stand on the top of the HET cab, carefully giving Dock the hand signals to back off the HET—a job I hate, I just know one of these days the driver’s going to make a mistake, or I am, and the damned thing’s going to flip over on me—and he backs down like the carefree professional he is. We get the rest of the tanks offloaded, and assemble in the field just off the 5212 Highway a little west of Vilnius proper when I happen to catch the CO being yelled at by what appears to be a local, maybe a farmer? As he’s politely nodding his head our liaison officer makes a beeline for their conversation. I’m too far away to hear anything, but I’ll bet it’s the landowner all PO’ed about us driving our extremely heavy tanks and Strykers all over his freshly-mown lawn.
“LIP get over here!”
SSG Beach has noticed I’m not paying attention to him anymore, and so I haven’t noticed that the whole platoon is staring at me as I stare at the liaison and the CO try to calm the farmer down. I sheepishly dismount and speed walk over to the rest of the platoon, where LT Mashinter briefs us.“Alright, now that Lipscomb has deigned to grace us with his presence, here’s the plan for the next couple of days. Squadron has a TOC set up near Musninkai, up the 116 Highway from Vilnius. We’re going to road march in standard column formation from here, along the 5212 until the 116. SOP road march order. There will be a joint MP/local police post set up to make sure we can negotiate the transition without losing any stragglers or running over any locals. Black 5 will be in the lead Humvee, and will call out the checkpoints as he passes them, and Black 7 will be in the trail Humvee and will do the same when he clears them. Radio is per SOP and digi-keys. Disabled vehicles will pull to the right shoulder as far off the road as practical, and radio their position to Black 8 who will meet up with the vehicle and evaluate recovery options as needed. REDCON 1 in ten minutes. Fuel HEMTT will be here in about twenty minutes to top off, with start of movement in thirty. CO wants Black 5 crossing the LD in less than 45 minutes.
“After the road march, we will be forming a troop coil formation here,” he pointed at a spot on the map just North of Musninkai, and continued “and wait for the Mustang 5. When he arrives he will lead us in a road march to our AA for the evening, here about one and a half clicks Southeast of Liukonys. There we will form a troop coil, set security, and do a modified tailgate LOGPAC, sergeant Furniss will provide details upon arrival. We will stay overnight in the AA, and sergeant Furniss has a guard/sleep plan set up, with details upon arrival.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got. Any questions?”
No speaking, just the shaking of a few heads, answered the LT.
“Alright. Sergeant Furniss, they’re all yours.” With that, the LT nodded to the platoon sergeant and took off for the CO’s location.
“A’aight, take a knee chuckleheads. Let’s make this quick. Standard order with White 1, 2, 3, 4. Alternate gun tubes just like normal. Keep your distance, at least 50 meters between vehicles. I want to see your air guards up, and scan your lanes. Refuel will be a hot refuel. Red then White on the left HEMTT, Blue then Green on the right. 1 & 2 will fuel first followed by 3 & 4, 1 & 3 on the left side with 2 & 4 on the right. Be ready to pull up when it’s your turn in the line. Pull through after, you’ll see the Red elements stacked up near the road surface. Once we get the blitz order, Hush 2 on the radios except for bent units, unusual situations, or checkpoint clearance. Black 7 has set us up a good LOGPAC at the AA, but we’ll cover details on arrival. Any questions? Speak now or forever hold your peace!”
None of us are that stupid, really. Nobody had any questions, we’ve done this a bunch of times. Heck, the NTC rotation just before our deployment. I think sergeant Furniss gave this exact same speech there, too.
“A’aight. Let’s go. REDCON 1 in five.”
We broke up, and Dock and I started walking toward Bodacious. On the way, Dock started humming an old classic rock tune, “Black Water” by the Doobie Brothers. I started singing, Dock joined me, and Cooke joined in. We all three locked arms and started singing the chorus at the tops of our lungs, skipping all the way back to our tanks.
“By the hand (hand) take me by the hand (pretty mama)/Come ’n’ dance with ya daddy all night long/I’d like to hear some funky dixieland, pretty mama come & take me by the hand.”
I could almost hear the rest of the platoon rolling their eyes at us. We didn’t care, we were damned if being deployed would crush our spirits.
April 4, 2016
"The Past"—New for National Poetry Month
New for National Poetry Month, a poem: "The Past"
The Past—Bacil Donovan Warren
Your wounding edges scrapeAnd through scraping, reveal deep thingsTendons and veins and arteriesBones and blood and brainBut also fears and searing angerHate—love—acidic regretEmotional ties, long since cut and left for deadAre resurrected, vampiric in their frenzy of awakening and rebirth.Cycles of pulsating energyMelancholy, tear-stained missingAnd overly joyous rejoiningThese things, revealed to air and lightTurn into a muted, ruddy messCrimson and gleaming to startDark, sticky, and thick at the endSuffocating coat of coagulatedPastChoking out the life and breath of theNow—Future—forever
March 20, 2016
Inspired by Poe—"Taps Tell Tales"
In honor of National Poetry Month coming up, I asked for some topic requests from my followers on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+. Earlier, I posted a response/reply to a Frost poem, and now I am following up with a (very) short story, inspired by The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe. Although not a poem, it is in keeping with the overall theme I think so here it is: "Taps Tell Tales" (also suggested by Jessica L.).
“Knock-Knock, Knock-Knock”
And so it was that my two partners and I—aroused in the early morning by similar door knocks, and summoned to our police station for a complaint—came to be with this babbling moron. A man of such quick tongue, he was, that we took several tries to just barely understand that he had awakened himself in the night with a shriek—that selfsame shriek that had brought the local town busybody to each of our homes at this godforsaken hour of the morning. And such a maudlin morning, fairly dripping with the mist of a coming storm front and heavy with heat, that we found ourselves wandering aimlessly behind this idiot, a shortish man of about twenty-eight years but with some disfigurement that I can’t even begin to imagine the cause of—perhaps some disease. Listening to him prattle on about how well-kept the old man’s home was, how precise and irreproachable was the state of his expensive wall coverings, how there were no missing items to account for a robbery—something we hadn’t suspected until he himself mentioned it—how the old man’s visits to the pasture land of his family’s holdings kept him too far and too long away from this unblemished façade of living well. At length, he gabbed about searching the home, about how no thing would be missing from its place, let alone stolen away from the site—since there was no way that any burglary or robbery or other crimes were being, or had been, committed here, with the old man gone away for such a trip.
And after a nearly hour-long diatribe that continued through every room in the home, the man blathered about each thing in the old man’s bedroom, a chest of treasures and jewelry and expensive items set on the mantel of his fireplace. He described every item we encountered with such an elongated and detailed nonsense narrative that I began to suspect that this man, himself, might be a candidate for a doctor’s care—a doctor and a straitjacket, perhaps—and then he had the audacity to withdraw from the room long enough to obtain four creaky, malformed wooden chairs and bid us to ensconce ourselves upon them so he could bend our already misgiven ears even more. I looked, resignedly, toward our police captain—an otherwise impatient and querulous man—whose very look bade me wait, to see what the imbecile would make a clean breast of, since it seemed pretty unimpeachable that he was doing things which would eventually take up residence in his speech. I was quite already tired when I happened to glance through the bedroom’s sole window, to note the streaks of darkish blue were being coaxed into lighter shades, the coming morning desperately trying to wish away our host even from so far away as the Eastern horizon’s first thoughts of sun. It was then, in the barest beginning of morning twilight that I noticed that we hadn’t hardly seen this deranged man’s hands—his talking was always done with a tremendous speed of jaw and eyes, but his hands remained clasped firmly together behind his back, or buried completely within the pockets of his ill-kept, dirty woolen trews: stained as I noticed for the first time with a ruddy brown, seemingly still-wet smear at about mid-thigh—a line across this front, about as high as a bathtub’s rim—and that in addition to hiding his hands he jittered as a man who had taken too much of the snuff box, or whose coffee was too strong. Every sitting moment was accompanied by a bouncing of the leg, or a tapping of the foot—mystery music dancing through this half-wit’s malfunctioning brain and manifesting through constant, rhythmic, beating moments. Moments that tapped out a strangely familiar tempo, one that I couldn’t quite recall but was as intimate ….
Intimate as my own beating heart. The heart that beat in my chest was nearly replicated by this fatuous, puerile man-child’s foot-knocking, as insistent as the coming morning and just as impetuous. And as we were all sitting around, laughing at this fool’s yammering on about this and that, I noted that the very blood of the dimwit’s face seemed to drain, and the tapping of his foot became impossible to ignore, loudly and more forceful it became, seemingly out of all control of the simpleton. Until finally it was almost as if he were now doing it on purpose, an attempt perhaps to distract us from the now gibberish he was speaking—when he suddenly stood and screamed “Villains! Dissemble no more!”—and proceeded to direct us to the dismembered body of the old man, buried under the planks in his own bedroom. At once, we took him into custody as he continued to babble, relating the extensiveness of his preparations and precautions. Hastily, we sped him to the jail, whereupon he broke into a shuddering sob as we shut and secured his cell and proceeded to post a watch: no doubt, he may try to end his own life, as he had that of the old man’s. During his stay with our watch, who carefully took down word by word whatever came from the lunatic’s mouth, he confessed entire to the murder of the man—and, more, set aside his own desires to elaborate on the crime at length. That story now rests in the office of the judicial clerk, where the trial will soon be over.
Hanged, I think, will be the end. Hanged by his neck, till death greets him coldly—and, without knocking.
“Knock-Knock, Knock-Knock”
And so it was that my two partners and I—aroused in the early morning by similar door knocks, and summoned to our police station for a complaint—came to be with this babbling moron. A man of such quick tongue, he was, that we took several tries to just barely understand that he had awakened himself in the night with a shriek—that selfsame shriek that had brought the local town busybody to each of our homes at this godforsaken hour of the morning. And such a maudlin morning, fairly dripping with the mist of a coming storm front and heavy with heat, that we found ourselves wandering aimlessly behind this idiot, a shortish man of about twenty-eight years but with some disfigurement that I can’t even begin to imagine the cause of—perhaps some disease. Listening to him prattle on about how well-kept the old man’s home was, how precise and irreproachable was the state of his expensive wall coverings, how there were no missing items to account for a robbery—something we hadn’t suspected until he himself mentioned it—how the old man’s visits to the pasture land of his family’s holdings kept him too far and too long away from this unblemished façade of living well. At length, he gabbed about searching the home, about how no thing would be missing from its place, let alone stolen away from the site—since there was no way that any burglary or robbery or other crimes were being, or had been, committed here, with the old man gone away for such a trip.
And after a nearly hour-long diatribe that continued through every room in the home, the man blathered about each thing in the old man’s bedroom, a chest of treasures and jewelry and expensive items set on the mantel of his fireplace. He described every item we encountered with such an elongated and detailed nonsense narrative that I began to suspect that this man, himself, might be a candidate for a doctor’s care—a doctor and a straitjacket, perhaps—and then he had the audacity to withdraw from the room long enough to obtain four creaky, malformed wooden chairs and bid us to ensconce ourselves upon them so he could bend our already misgiven ears even more. I looked, resignedly, toward our police captain—an otherwise impatient and querulous man—whose very look bade me wait, to see what the imbecile would make a clean breast of, since it seemed pretty unimpeachable that he was doing things which would eventually take up residence in his speech. I was quite already tired when I happened to glance through the bedroom’s sole window, to note the streaks of darkish blue were being coaxed into lighter shades, the coming morning desperately trying to wish away our host even from so far away as the Eastern horizon’s first thoughts of sun. It was then, in the barest beginning of morning twilight that I noticed that we hadn’t hardly seen this deranged man’s hands—his talking was always done with a tremendous speed of jaw and eyes, but his hands remained clasped firmly together behind his back, or buried completely within the pockets of his ill-kept, dirty woolen trews: stained as I noticed for the first time with a ruddy brown, seemingly still-wet smear at about mid-thigh—a line across this front, about as high as a bathtub’s rim—and that in addition to hiding his hands he jittered as a man who had taken too much of the snuff box, or whose coffee was too strong. Every sitting moment was accompanied by a bouncing of the leg, or a tapping of the foot—mystery music dancing through this half-wit’s malfunctioning brain and manifesting through constant, rhythmic, beating moments. Moments that tapped out a strangely familiar tempo, one that I couldn’t quite recall but was as intimate ….
Intimate as my own beating heart. The heart that beat in my chest was nearly replicated by this fatuous, puerile man-child’s foot-knocking, as insistent as the coming morning and just as impetuous. And as we were all sitting around, laughing at this fool’s yammering on about this and that, I noted that the very blood of the dimwit’s face seemed to drain, and the tapping of his foot became impossible to ignore, loudly and more forceful it became, seemingly out of all control of the simpleton. Until finally it was almost as if he were now doing it on purpose, an attempt perhaps to distract us from the now gibberish he was speaking—when he suddenly stood and screamed “Villains! Dissemble no more!”—and proceeded to direct us to the dismembered body of the old man, buried under the planks in his own bedroom. At once, we took him into custody as he continued to babble, relating the extensiveness of his preparations and precautions. Hastily, we sped him to the jail, whereupon he broke into a shuddering sob as we shut and secured his cell and proceeded to post a watch: no doubt, he may try to end his own life, as he had that of the old man’s. During his stay with our watch, who carefully took down word by word whatever came from the lunatic’s mouth, he confessed entire to the murder of the man—and, more, set aside his own desires to elaborate on the crime at length. That story now rests in the office of the judicial clerk, where the trial will soon be over.
Hanged, I think, will be the end. Hanged by his neck, till death greets him coldly—and, without knocking.
In honor of National Poetry Month (April)
In honor of the upcoming National Poetry Month, I've asked my Twitter, Facebook, and Google+ followers to suggest topics on which they'd like to see me write a poem.
I had a couple of requests right away. This is the first one: a response/reaction to Robert Frost's immortal poem "The Road Not Taken." Here is "Tread Anew," my response/reaction to that. (Suggestion by Jessica L.)
Tread Anew—Bacil Donovan Warren
Heel-to-toe, I walk alone a path others shunMiles and miles it takes me astrayAnd though the night leads back to dayAnd I meander still under the rising sunI regret not a single moment of this way.
It passes by a village where they are afraid—Never step off familiar stair—And as they breathe their constant airI prepare to lay myself, bare, in a bed madeOut of the travels and knowledge on a path rare.
Gazing as I do back up at blanketed gemsOf swiftly disappearing starsFading with morning’s orange scarsI feel the stare of one complacent, who condemnsMy wand’ring, careless gait, never knowing my spars
With every step and each day’s kneeling down to restNever once sure about the nextPlace where I am led by my treksNor do they know the constant, soul-destroying test:Ever-present, and always on surprise subjects.
For even though this path that others fear to walkIs strewn with obstacles galore—Pits, cleverly concealed trap doors—It is absolutely worth every single mockAnd each of the condescending glares from the scores.
I tell them true, as I am only able to,“I’d walk along this lonely streetAlone and free, on my bare feetSooner than with a single cookie-cutter youRide on the tired road, with other sheep, and bleat.”
I had a couple of requests right away. This is the first one: a response/reaction to Robert Frost's immortal poem "The Road Not Taken." Here is "Tread Anew," my response/reaction to that. (Suggestion by Jessica L.)
Tread Anew—Bacil Donovan Warren
Heel-to-toe, I walk alone a path others shunMiles and miles it takes me astrayAnd though the night leads back to dayAnd I meander still under the rising sunI regret not a single moment of this way.
It passes by a village where they are afraid—Never step off familiar stair—And as they breathe their constant airI prepare to lay myself, bare, in a bed madeOut of the travels and knowledge on a path rare.
Gazing as I do back up at blanketed gemsOf swiftly disappearing starsFading with morning’s orange scarsI feel the stare of one complacent, who condemnsMy wand’ring, careless gait, never knowing my spars
With every step and each day’s kneeling down to restNever once sure about the nextPlace where I am led by my treksNor do they know the constant, soul-destroying test:Ever-present, and always on surprise subjects.
For even though this path that others fear to walkIs strewn with obstacles galore—Pits, cleverly concealed trap doors—It is absolutely worth every single mockAnd each of the condescending glares from the scores.
I tell them true, as I am only able to,“I’d walk along this lonely streetAlone and free, on my bare feetSooner than with a single cookie-cutter youRide on the tired road, with other sheep, and bleat.”
