Samuel Colbran's Blog, page 14

Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why and my thoughts.

Warning, this is some deep shit!

You have been warned!

I have just stayed up all night binging a series on Netflix, called 13 Reasons Why. Before I go off on my tangent, watch this series. Just loved it, but it also opened my eye.

It inspired me and clicked on a switch that hasn’t thought about for a long time. This blog is about to put away my book and talk about bullying, and its effects on people; that person is me.

I don’t tell people this often, but I have a fantastic memory, well it can be subjective sometimes, but I can close my eyes and remember past events from bygone years. I remember watching the Incredible Hulk, the 1980’s television show with my brother Steven while I was two or three, the time I swallowed a marble and then rushed to the hospital and the time I was my brother’s lookout while he let off fireworks. Well, the lookout is too strong a word, being three at the time I thought I just watch for people not warning my brother about our mother busting him. Fun times.

I can recall the abuse I suffered at the hands of my step-mother. The beatings, the starvation, the humiliation, and of course suffocation.  I also can remember the police putting us (my sister and me) first into a hospital and then on to a foster home, where a fellow foster child sexually assaulted me.

Now, this is depressing; I should know I suffer from depression but stay with me I have a point.

Now primary school, from age seven to ten, were the best years of my life! (that was until I wrote Lake Merrin) Was back home with my mother and now new step-father (I have a few thing to say about him later). Friends were good, the teacher was understanding, and it was a real life. So much support. That was until we moved to Kingston in Tasmania.

That was my first time I have experienced bullying since all those years ago. It was like five years, but at that point, it was half of my life. The first day, while I had a tour of the school, every kid and I mean everyone insulted me. It was the same insult, fat-ollie. Now I am fat, I know I am fat, I see myself daily naked, I know what fat is. Being told you are fat is a whole different kettle of fish. I wish they were more original, I mean fat-ollie. After that I used to challenge people to think of a better insult, it gets old fast. Sometimes you just must stand up and own your shit!

It got worse when I went to high school. And I don’t want to explain what happened but it wasn’t just the school it was home as well. At the age of 13, my step-father told me and over the next few year told me, again and again, I was useless and not his son. Fuck you, Bernie! Nearly killed myself several times over my teenage years when it just was too much. Why did I stop? Because I have an imagination, can picture the aftermath of said act. I couldn’t do that to people, and I didn’t want to be weak. So I endured and endured. Survived shutting off my emotions, took me years to turn them back on. I wish I can’t remember these things, but I do and will for the rest of my life.

Bullying and abuse, such lovely words. What do people want? Hearing this anti-bullying system, how that will stop all this. Sorry to say, no it does not. Looking down at others is what people do. I am guilty of this when I was younger, but the older I got, the more I realised that as the old saying goes ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’. Poetic. This show made sad that this happened, happens and will be happening after I post this blog. What can we do? First off, stop the bullshit! Second, learn from different people, cultures, religions and view them in a different light. Thirdly be kind, be accepting, be welcoming, be human. We are not monsters; we are better than that.

 

Lake Merrin: Chapter Five.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Thinking about it, I was so hung up on street names. But I found out who thought them all up, or was I drunk, because his name was Stupid Stupidson …

 

Leaving, just wondering where I am. Look, it’s Residential Road, which leads to Bakers Street and I can cut across the marketplace to Market Lane. Market Lane connects to Route Street, cut across to Fish Lane, down to Dock Street. So, let me guess, you need to a take Route Street from Dock Street to get to Market Lane.

Someone needs to put forward a formal complaint against the people who name the streets, or just find someone to smack them on the side of the head and say, “Come on, just come on! I think it is time to rethink the names of the streets.” Then smack them again, just to make sure they understand.

Those Dock Boys should be working the docks now, moving this and that. Hopefully there isn’t many inside.

Walking into Anvil and Musket, there is Malik, Jimmy, and the rest of the Dock Boys. What are they doing here? Just one day, that’s all I ask. Why have you forsaken me, Trinity? I give, well, some money, and pray to you. You need to have my back sometimes.

Move back outside quickly! No one has followed me. Now I just have to think of a way to blend in.

Oomph! Some rude Dwarf just shouldered me out of the way. Hey, I think it’s a lady Dwarf; bloody broad shoulders though. Armed—they make anyone Adventurers. Why me? This is not helping me. Must decide soon. Standing out here makes me look weird.

A chord is struck. That sounds familiar. Poking my head back through. That same bard from the Hall is playing the best song ever—‘A Sailor Came to Port’!

 

A sailor came to port one day

to see what he could find.

He found a lusty wench that day,

which boggled his mind.

But in the end, he found

that he had no play in sight.

So the sailor left port that day,

as he called it a night.

 

A sailor came to port one day

to see what he could find.

He found a gold slip upon this day,

which boggled his mind.

After shouting a few rounds,

he ran out of drinks to delight.

So the sailor left port that day,

as he called it a night.

 

Second verse. Most should be up and singing along. That Dwarf is being surrounded by Malik and crew. Great, I can make it to the back stairs.

 

A sailor came to port one day

to see what he could find.

He found a sure bet upon this day,

which boggled his mind.

The bet was not so sound,

so he had to run for his life.

So the sailor left port that day,

as he called it a night.

 

Love this song. I have a few verses I know quite well too. My sailor finds a party or he finds a great meal. On to important matters—nearing the back staircase. Don’t want to be in that Dwarf’s shoes.

 

A sailor came to port one day

to see what he could find.

He found some trouble upon this day,

which boggled his mind.

The fight was quite short,

as he gave it some knife.

So the sailor left port that day,

as he called it a night.

 

A sailor came to port one day

to see what he could find.

He found a fool upon this day,

which boggled his mind.

He was quite drunk,

and it was a mirror he spied.

So the sailor left port that day,

as he called it a night.

 

A sailor came to port …

 

Made it up. Should be easy sailing from here. Please, Trinity, make it easy for me. No one on the first. One more flight of stairs. And Trinity is frowning upon me—two of Malik’s goons guarding my door. Hang on, aren’t they? Yeah, the same thugs from yesterday. My luck! Thanks, Trinity! Took them once, why not again?

Drawing my sword, I walk up to them. “Hi, guys, fancy seeing you here. I see you drew the short straws, standing watch at little old me’s room. You shouldn’t have.”

One thug, well, I must have mashed his nose. Have to admit, his face wasn’t pretty before but now it’s a mess of bruises. He says, “Here you are, dung-head!”

Wow, amazing that they could still remember that funny nickname of mine.

“We’re gonna kill you!”

“Just remember, boys, what happened before. I don’t want to hurt you two, but I will if you force me.”

Hang on, if I let them go they will tell Malik. How to keep them here … Oh, don’t worry, they’re coming at me.

The other one yells, “Payback is sweet, dung-head!”

These Dock Boys seem serious now. From their body language, they are here to kill me. Maybe I should run. Such a coward sometimes. Run, yeah, that would end up great! Let’s be sober—and murderous. Them or me, and I like me. Two verse one, not bad odds. They can’t spread out. Angles will be determined by skill. Having the advantage of length—and I have a big sword too. Score two for the dead man!

Back to this. They have thrusting swords in their hands; a recruit’s sword. Guessing their skill levels, they both just come at me. Thrusting with abandon.

Just need to deflect, and now step. Lop the hand off one of the thugs. Stupid goons. The other just steps in and blindly stabs into his mate. Sidestep and quick throat stab and it is over. Trying to just overpower people with little skill is not how you win a sword fight. Oh well.

What do they have? Two short swords, a couple of knives, a few more slips, and a lovely semi-precious gem. For being unskilled thugs, they keep their weapons well oiled. Should find someone to buy this stuff. No time to stand here thinking about it—gotta get my stuff.

Wash off the blood, change my clothes. What to take: Backpack, few odds and ends. Clothes, whetstone, oil. Flog the blanket for the weapons. Cocking my ear, can’t hear the song that much anymore. Must have died down. That is enough, haven’t taken everything—Malik would still think I’m here. But the bodies, I stash them in another room. One of these rooms must be unlocked. It has to be the one furthest away. Now, the blood? Blankets and water. Doesn’t need to be perfectly clean—there’s always been bloodstains in this place anyway.

Not going to be going down the front stairs, taking the discrete back entrance. Why didn’t I use that one in the first place? I can be dumb sometimes. Should head over to Blacksmith Street off Tradesmen Court to sell these weapons. Route Street first. There must be a better way. If I take Warehouse Place to Tanner Lane, then Wall Boulevard, that would take me past Craftsmen Avenue and Blacksmith Street. No main roads, better for me in the long run. Malik has pickpocket spies around.

The smell of tanners is not very nice, like stale piss and dung. But most people don’t hang out here, except for one of Malik’s rival gangs—the Wilting Flower Gang. Not sure why they call themselves that when they smell like a sweaty tanner. One way to always find out where they are.

Wall Boulevard is a great road—no patrols, not many people either. Just a clear walk to where you need to go. Peace time is great, not like there has been a war in ages.

Finally here. Hang on, before I choose a smithy, is there a maker’s mark on these swords? Of course not—that will drive the price down. Was thinking twenty gold slips, now lucky to receive ten.

This one looks good—The Tinker’s Place. Seems to be a little more dodgy than most of these shops. Walking in, a bell sounds off. A Gnome with thick goggles on pokes his head out from the back. “Yes, you need help?”

“Ah, yes. I have come into possession of a few well-made weapons. I was wondering if you are willing to buy?”

Pulling off his goggles, eyes ringed with soot, hair greasy. “You an Adventurer?”

Great, do I have my licence on me? Should do, in my wallet.

“Sure, sure. One second.” Damn, I don’t have a licence, but here is a receipt from Royce. “Just signed up yesterday, here’s the receipt.”

He looks over it. “Looks like Royce’s writing, hmm.” Looks up at me with his deep purple eyes. “Okay, what you got?”

Unwrapping the weapons, placing each in front of the Gnome. “Excuse me, may I ask your name?”

“Sure! It’s Winkle Tinker.” Picks up each one and looks at them. “Where is the maker’s mark?”

Damn, he noticed straightaway! “Okay, Winkle—” Great name. “—I defeated a few foes on a job, and this is the spoils.”

“You know owning a sword without a mark could land you in jail?”

“Yes, but I don’t own these, just want to sell them. Besides, I am a registered Adventurer so those rules don’t apply.”

“Well-made, no grinder marks or other signatures. I give you three slips for both.”

Say what—three? Calm down. Bloody Gnomes and their smarts.

“Make it fifteen and I’ll throw in this gem.”

Handing it over, Winkle’s eyes light up. “Six.”

Haggling with this one will not be fun. “Make it ten and we’ll call it a day.”

“Fine, you have a deal.” I know I attained the worse end of this deal. “Here you go. If you want a better weapon, don’t forget Winkle Tinker’s Place.”

Yanking my money out of his hand. Yeah, I’ll be back. After this I need an ale.

Let’s Talk: Editing

A fantastic insight by the wonderful Brhi Stokes, keep an eye out for her book in June!

Brhi Stokes

Today, I’d like to have a chat about editing. It’s coming up a lot amongst my writer friends and I feel like it’s a helpful discussion topic. (And I think giving a break between each two postings of The Last Heir is a good idea, so expect that).

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Terminology or is it a Glossary?

With my upcoming print and ebook, Lake Merrin n the verge of coming out I thought it was time to ‘spoil’ a couple of things for the book. First off is the Terminology of Favinonia. People have asked me what is the ‘FK’ mean or who is this Jara, Mela or Jenell? Simple these are common words that need no explanation, like ‘Hey, that is a dog!’ or ‘Could you throw a shrimp on the barbie!’ or even ‘G’day mate, how are you goin’?’

So without further ado, here is my Terminology/glossary!

Terminology

Abyssus: This is the dark underworld of Favinonia, where all evil is born. The White Aspect of the Trinity warns of a time the devils and demons of the Abyssus will rise again and take this world. It is also a common swear word used by the crass.

 

Adventurer: A person specially registered to work within Favinonia’s borders. It carries many responsibilities, including: permission to carry weapons; the ability to take jobs from the Hall; and compulsory enlistment in times of crisis.

 

Amsul: The name of the world Favinonia resides in.

 

Beast Races: Description of beast-like humanoids from Havanti. They are ruled by dragon-like Balauron.

 

Blue: Aspect of law and knowledge. This aspect controls the courts and oversees the libraries. People of an academic background follow this aspect of the Trinity. Saint Jenell—the word-smith; incorruptible; fact-finder—represents the Blue Aspect.

 

Charter: A group of Adventurers with a mission statement and guidelines for their group. An official record is kept at the Hall that outlines each Charter’s mission statement, history, and reputation.

 

College of Magi: An ancient order of Favinonian magic-users. All types of magic are learned here, except for necromancy, or ‘magic of the dead’. Their primary goal is to revitalise the knowledge of the arcane, which was lost during the Massacre of Magic.

 

Common swear words: In polite society, these words are not used (but from time to time, even the most civil tongue will slip). Common swear words include: slip-sucker, copper-pincher, skinflint, tinker’s dam, Jara’s hammer, and son of a motherless goat. Some people may also invoke the saints (Jara, Mela, Jenell) or the Trinity.

 

Dwarf: Dwarves are the traders and merchants of Favinonia. Family is everything to the Dwarf, as only family can be trusted with commerce. They are open to customers, even friendly, but Dwarves have an underlying culture of profiteering.

 

Elf: Elves are an uncommon race in Favinonia. Their origins are rife with mystery. Most know that they originated from a large jungle in the south. Most are primitive, but have a knack to evolve and adapt to new environments. As they are not true citizens of the kingdom, most find work as scouts, hunters, and farmers in rural regions. However, because of their selective fertility period, many end up as prostitutes; both male and female. At the Height of Truth, their hair turns the purest white, which indicates they are fertile; conception is guaranteed at that time.

 

FK: Foundation of Kingdom; how many years since the foundation of Favinonia.

 

Favinonia: The land of human origin, comprised of seven different states: The Core; Western Duchy; Southern Earldom; Northern Electorate; Eastern March; Northern Colonies; and the Eastern Expanse.

 

Folk: (also known as Lizard-folk) A scaly race from the great swamp of Favinonia’s southern border. They are related to the Elf race, indicated by their similar features, such as their pointed ears and facial characteristics. Their mane of feathers, akin to hair, changes colour depending on their mood. (Beware of a Folk with bright scarlet feathers!)

 

Green: Aspect of agriculture and life/death. Toilers of the ground and healers of the sick. Saint Mela—the plague-ender; life-giver; and first saint—represents the Green Aspect. People who follow this aspect give thanks to the first saint for bringing the Trinity to Favinonia.

 

Gnome: Once this race was connected to the mystical, but now they are enthralled with technology. They have a boundless interest in how elements work together and react to one another; they are also very interested in what makes them explode.

 

Halfling: The Halflings are a nomad race. Some travel in small houses on wheels or barges that can traverse the multiple rivers in Favinonia. If you are drawn to discover what is on the other side of the next hill, you may begin to understand the need that drives all Halflings to keep moving.

 

Half-breed: The forgotten children of Elves and the good folk of Favinonia. These individuals have become one of the fastest-growing races in the land. As they are a constant reminder of the indiscretions of many citizens, they are despised by their parent race. Most half-breeds are wanderers, often seen in the most squalid parts of society. Slurs include: white-back, Truth-spawn, white-bred, and she-bop.

 

Hall: Established around 100 FK to cope with the bounty of the goblinoid races, the Hall has now become the administration headquarters for Charters, Adventurers, and the Job Board.

 

Havanti: The Eastern land; shrouded with mystery, ruled by ten clans, and the home of the Beast Races.

 

Lake Merrin: The largest fresh water lake in Favinonia. Also the name of the main town in the northern province of Western Duchy. The current ruler is Count Darel Isenhart.

 

Massacre of Magic: A period of time in early Favinonian history that caused the indiscriminate slaughter of all magical creatures. The Massacre of Magic spanned over a century.

 

Months: There are 13 months with 28 days. The months are (in order): Founding; Peace; Builder;  Sage; Orange; Iron; Blue; Invention; Green; Harvest; White; Trinity; and Truth.

 

Orange: Aspect of retribution and protection. This aspect oversees the protection of Favinonia’s wellbeing, and ensures swift retribution to those who hurt the innocent. Saint Jara—the hammer; demon-slayer; husband of Saint Mela; and protector of the innocent—represents the Orange Aspect. The law allows the Orange Holy Order to use whatever force necessary to protect Favinonia.

 

Order of the Shield: The Duke’s Guard; named after the relics of the past. Most members also have positions as commanders in the Favinonian Army.

The Trinity: The one true God of Favinonia. Everyone worships one aspect of the Trinity: Blue, Green, or Orange.

 

Western Duchy: (also known as the Iron Dukedom) The land north-west of Favinonia. Its responsibility is to guard the country against the Wild Lands and the Great Wall to the north. Three words to describe the people of Western Duchy: honourable, stalwart, and duty-bound. The current ruler is Duke Trahern Isenhart III.

 

Western City States: An unofficial alliance of city-states to the west of the Wild Lands. Mainly a seafaring race, the Western City States are run by guilds, mercenary companies, and merchant princes. It has little land to grow food. For many years it was the only trade route to the eastern country of Havanti.

 

University of Engineers: The most learned place in Favinonia. The great minds of technology gather here to teach and research new and exciting ways to improve life, without the use of magic. Fields of study include: medicine, biology, pharmacy, chemistry, and physics. The newest innovation from the University of Engineers is steam and electricity.

Chapter One | Chapter Two| Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

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Lake Merrin: Chapter Four.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three  | Chapter Five

And the night I met Pela, and she was—wow! I love what happened to us. If it wasn’t for Roth, we would have never met. And Roth—not so wow …

Not much going on. Am I supposed to stand here and look at people? Maybe ask one of the veterans. Looking at all these bully boys, best bet is to choose the oldest. He might be nice. Assuming he is the oldest, with the cauliflower ear and broken nose with a nice scar across it.

“Hey, I’m new with this whole bouncer thing. Could you give me a few pointers?” He looks at me like I was some bad smell under his nose.

“Bloody Corbin! Another fish. Okay, Fishy—”

Original. Usually it is arseface or my personal favourite, shit-head.

“—I’ll say this only once so listen up! If you see someone grabbing the staff before they pay Corbin for their time, bash them. If you see a fight, go in and bash them. If one of these gutter trash hit one of us, we take them out back and make sure they never make that mistake again.”

Seems simple, like really simple. Bash everyone.

“Sure thing. Bash anyone who give us a wrong look. Sure, I can handle that.”

He looks at me and smiles with some pearly whites—strange to see that. “But because you are a newbie, no one will be coming to your rescue tonight until you have cracked a few skulls.”

Great, not too different than usual. “Crack skulls.” Club in hand. “Can do.”

Leaving the wonderful man alone. Can’t believe that people would pay for these ladies. Well, maybe her. Must be a quarterling. Petite thing with beautiful golden hair. Nice bust, legs just needed to be wrapped around.. Ahem.

Pointing over at my wet dream. “Hey, how much is her?”

A man looks at who I am pointing to and smirks. “Twenty gold slips.” What? Who is worth that? She might be, but still.

“She has a certain taste in clientele too.” He looks me up and down. “She doesn’t go for half-breeds like you.”

Not that I could afford her. Nevertheless, that’s a little racist for someone who is a half- breed themselves.

“Might never have the money anyway. What’s her name?”

“Pela.”

Now it really feels like I’m the butt of the joke.

“You have that section over there. If there is trouble, deal with it.”

Great. Thanks, man-with-no-name. At least I have Pela to stare at. She’s waiting tables in my section—best news. She looks at me and frowns.

Just give her a charming smile! She hides a smile and maybe a giggle.

Never been in this bar before. Smells like the dives at the docks, but seems to be a bit quieter. Have no idea how Corbin makes any money—just seems to be mainly workmen. Easy job, for not being paid.

Hold the presses, is that?—No!—Yes, it is! The Bloody Sword. What is the Fellowship doing in here? Helmut, Roth, Viktor, Vali, and hangers-on. Great, it seems that the whole gang is here—my mistake, I mean Charter. How can a fallen knight become a leader of a registered Charter?

But not in my section. Veteran guy needs to make sure he doesn’t push that lot. Roth would butcher him with that cleaver of his.

“Hey!” Corbin is yelling. “Fight, idiot!”

Bloody typical. Couple of workmen fighting over most likely nothing. “You two, cut it out!”

Ignored. Fine then! Knees and elbows. Both of them drop with little effort. “Oi, what’d you do that for?” one of the ugly men asks me. Like I care.

“I warned you two. Leave with teeth or without. Your choice.”

They pick themselves up, limping a little. “Fine. The women are better down at the docks anyway.”

That is true. Except Pela … so swishy. “Let’s go.” A little death stare. Good start.

What else is happening? Most of the more tough thugs are having a good laugh—at my expense, I guess. The Fellowship hasn’t noticed me. That last beating they gave me was not fun. Wait up, is Pela serving them now? I know that they could pay for her … Bloody typical Roth is going to have a go of her. I can’t watch this. There goes the eye candy. Bloody Roth. Must not like ape-men too. Roth goes for the grab.

Roth, such a butcher of a man, loves his meat cleaver. I hope Pela will be alright. She seems to be a tough girl. She laughs it off and slaps his hand playfully away. Good on you, girl. I guess you need to have thick skin working in a place like this. She returns with another round and Roth pulls her onto his lap with a little grope. She stands up, turns, and slaps him across the face. Helmut and the others just laugh, but he’s standing up now.

Should I involve myself? Looking around, none of the other ‘bouncers’ are moving toward that table. With their reputation, they will get nasty soon.

“Hey, Roth!” I call over the crowd “What are you doing over here?”

He looks up and yells, it is akin to watching a beast talk. “Go away, little man, this has nothing to do with you! She slapped me, so now she is going to have to make it up to me!”

I step in front of Pela. “Well, you see I’m working here now, Roth, and I can’t have you manhandling the staff. Now, be a good lad, have a drink on me, and head down to the docks later and pick up someone who wants your charms.”

“What you say to me!” He stands nose to nose with me. The spray of spittle is not pleasant

nor his sweat coated body either. Man, he has way too much body hair!  “I’m not good enough for this whore? And who are you to tell me who I can poke? Is that right, little man!”

“Roth, my friend, I didn’t mean that you are not an upstanding citizen with amazing hygiene but—”

That is how far I got with conversation. A left hook straight to the jaw. That hurt! As I flew back into another patron, I could see my mistake.

“Come on, lads, let’s drag this good for nothing outside and beat the living shit out of him!” Now I have made Roth an enemy—great! Just need one more thug to try to kill me to make this a perfect day. Well, I gave my word to work here for the next two days, and this is part of

the job. Can’t fight in here, it might turn into an all-out brawl.

“Okay, Roth, let’s go outside. But do you really need these others to help your ‘manhood’

stay straight or can you do it with your own hands—I mean, take it into your own hands!” Score one for the dead man! As Roth’s face turns purple, Helmut stands up and in is insanely

quiet voice says, “Roth, be a man. Fight one on one. It’s the honourable thing to do.”

Corbin walks over with a massive club. “Clear a space. We’ll have it in here.” He looks around and laughs. “Looks like we got a show tonight, boys!”

Now, with my luck of late, was this a set-up or am I just that lucky? Oh well.

Corbin yells, “As I am now running this contest, will be with fists. No weapons! I don’t want to explain to the Watch why Roth killed someone in my saloon!”

A good laugh from the crowd. Great, everyone thinks I’ve already lost! Well, I can give as good as I get. Well … maybe. Too late now. At least there is a gorgeous face … What! Pela is nowhere to be seen! Great, my luck is now proving itself to be against me.

I need to put some of this crowd on my side. “Come on, people!” Turning to Roth now. “I’m going to crack your head with my fist! Yeah, I will punch you so hard that … you will hurt bad!”

The crowd laughs at this; snickers throughout the place. Roth chuckles. “See the puddle? He is already pissing himself!”

Looking down, someone has spilt a drink between my legs—most likely Vali, that sneaky bastard! Now it is outright mockery. Steel yourself and just fight! Sarge always said, ‘If a fight is dirty, take any advantage you can.’

Good, he is distracted insulting me to the crowd. Throwing all my weight behind it, I punch

Roth in the small of his back! Then again—and again! Was that a crack?

Wasn’t going to wait for him to be ready.

What? It had no effect? Roth turns, looks at me, roars, and charges. Bracing. Need to make this count! Sidestep him. Aim for the side of his neck. Hitting his shoulder, not the best plan. Damn it, that really hurt. Hand isn’t broken, I hope.

Looking up, where is Roth? He is on the floor, not moving. Did I kill him with that shoulder shot? Or my … Oh wait, no. He slipped on that puddle Vali made. Trinity is smiling upon me! Just have to finish this now—no one will miss him.

What’s that presence?

Waking up in a strange bed! What? I am in a room, in bed. The air smells like freshly-cut flowers. Now officially weirded out.

Looking around, hang on, I’m naked! Why am I naked? Screw that, why the Abyss am I

naked? Where are my clothes?

There they are, folded neatly beside my armour and sword. There is my nearly empty wallet too. Starting to freak out! But laying in this bed is so comfortable, and it smells nice. Like a beautiful woman. Okay, okay, the person who put me in here, and got me undressed, I hope was a woman. Please, Trinity, be a woman. Don’t really care if she is good-looking, just don’t want a man handling my junk.

As the door opens, Pela walks in—jackpot! Should cover up more, don’t want for her to see how excited I am to see her.

“Oh, you are awake. I thought you’d be sleeping. How are you feeling? When that fight started, I went and got the Watch. I saw you on the ground being kicked and punched by Helmut and his goons.”

She starts to cry, have no idea why. Women are strange.

“You came and protected me … Thank you. I brought you to my place and made Corbin pay for a healer—that will teach him!”

Dumbstruck! A beautiful woman saved me, took me to her place, got a healer, and then got me naked. Best morning ever—except for nearly dying for the second time in one day!

“Thank you, Pela. I would have been a dead man. And you are welcome as well. I would think anyone else would’ve done the same thing. If you don’t mind passing my pants, I’ll get out of your way.”

She blushes and turns to me. “You don’t have to go. You could … stay.”

Now, I’m not a cynic but a beautiful woman asking me to stay—yeah, right. As my past always shows me, I’m not that lucky.

“No, I think it would be better for me to go. I don’t have too much money. Sorry, but thank you for everything. My pants?”

Pela walks up and punches me in the face, growling at me, “Get your own pants! If you are still here when I get back—” A small knife appears in her hand. “—I take your balls, you half- Elven bastard!” She turns and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

That is one way to rid myself of an erection.“Who you calling a bastard? We’re both half-breeds!”

Suggesting she was a lady of the night was my stuff up—foot mouth. My nose is bleeding. Oh well. Get dressed and see if I can get my stuff back.

That courier should have delivered my package to Malik by now. Just nip down to ‘the shit hole’ called Anvil and Musket.

What defines a writer?

As I approach the release of Lake Merrin, I have to ask ‘Am I going about the right way to becoming a professional writer?’ This question is stupid and pointless as everyone’s path is different and there is no rule (to my knowledge) that this how things are done.

Exposing myself to the community of writers has been one of the most incredible experiences I have ever had, but this can be a double edge sword as I see them doing things that frankly seems to be a       It’s not a waste of time, just not my path. Again I have to ask, what defines a writer?

Is it being published, writing blogs or entering writing competitions? Being active online on social media, telling everyone how fantastic you are? Or being part of a writers group that meets monthly? Could it be quietly by yourself creating and imagining new worlds and stories?

I think all of these define a writer, a creative. There are no labels but why do I feel that somehow I am cheating the system. I have never entered a competition or done articles. I haven’t tried to go down the traditional path of an author, finding an agent, submitting to a publisher. Does this make me less than other who have?

I believe in helping people have the guts to take that first step into a scary but fulfilling life of writing. Seeing people become as passionate in the creative medium and just trying. I don’t want a million dollars, I don’t want a fancy house or car. The only thing that I really want is that my book to be read, by one or many.

As I sit here and try and think of how to finish this blog, this reminds me how much I love writing. In the end, we define who we are, not society, not our peers, not friends or family. If you write, then you are a writer. Simple as that.

Review of Halfling by Melissa H. North

I had the pleasure to reading this book, way before the masses and I can tell you there will be masses! As the book is not out yet, this will be a spoiler free (as much as I can).

My first impression of this was WOW!! The use of mythology and fae was marvellous! I cannot stress this point, WOW just WOW! Aimed at teens, but I can say you could pick it up and lose yourself in this fast paced, action packed book.

A little about what is a Halfling. In Melissa North’s book, a halfling is a person born of a fae (fairy) and human. The main character is a Halfling, and she is cool. Someone to look up to, as she needs no man to save her! She’ll save the men, and she does a few times (oh, spoiler).

Even if it is targeted for young’uns, the emotional roller-coaster is there. It asked some serious questions, which makes you as the reader think and wonder why certain things happen. Unless you read the book in full, you will never know!

I would wholeheartedly ‘demand’ that you should buy this book. The pace, the story, characters, lore, magic, and even dragons are all excellent. A must read or a perfect present for someone who loves fantasy!

By Samuel Colbran

Here are the links to Melissa H North.

Facebook: Melissa H North-Author

Twitter: @melissanorthauthor

Website: melissahnorthauthor.com/

Instagram: Melissa H North Author

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Lake Merrin: Chapter Three

Yep, Lone Solo after this point. Royce was a dick! But being in debt to Malik was just the start of me and him …

Oh damn, I nearly forgot. That damn loan, and not getting stabbed in the back by a thug at night is a good reason too. Where do I find a nice cheap courier service? Hopefully it doesn’t cost too much to send a small package.

Walking down Market Lane, I am more and more amazed at how little imagination these people had when they decided to name the streets. I’m wondering if Market Lane heads towards the market … Okay, okay, I already know. I’ve been living in this town for nearly three months, but thought it was funny.

There it is, a courier station: Jameson & Son. Wow. I mean wow, such a wonderful sign, nearly as good as the naming of the streets. Upon entering, I can see the non-stop excitement! I mean, look how fast that guy is stamping those papers.

“Excuse me, I would like to send a package to Anvil and Musket, attention to Malik. How much will that cost me?”

Why do all administrators need to be crusty old men? At one time they would have been young ones, but still.

“It would be costing two copper slips. You can have a brief message with it too.” Costing me only two copper slips and even had a message!

‘Dear Malik. Here are eight gold slips. Please don’t kill me. Love …’ so on and so forth. Wow, how boring. I think it’s time for an ale or a beer, and pie, or even some stew. Mmm, stew. And maybe I might move to another inn, just in case, so the stabby-stabby will not happen. I could trust Malik as far as I could throw him. Find a place that will tide me over till I get this Watch work.

There must be some sort of cheap place near the market. This looks promising. Corbin’s? Weird name. Must have been some sort of dick who name an inn Corbin’s. Let’s see. Falling apart, check. Beggars in the street, check. Barman spitting into glass to clean it, check. This place is perfect, but no way in the darkest pit of the Abyss I eat here but not near the docks. Time to barter for a room. Charm, don’t leave me now!

As I move towards to stocky spitter. “Good day, barkeep. I was wondering if you had a room free for the next few days?” He spits. Such a charming fellow.

“Two silver bits a night. Three if you want company,” he said. “My dear … May I ask your name, barkeep?”

He looks at me with those watery, bloodshot eyes and grunts, his bald head fringed with dirty blond hair. “Corbin.” Glad this guy can’t read my thoughts.

“My dear Corbin, I am only asking to stay a few nights, not buy the actual room. So how’s about we make it two slips for the next two days. I will be willing to offer my services as a bouncer for this period too.” Jingling the sword a little for dramatic effect.

He looks me up and down and smiles. “You must be a Registered. Could use someone with that sort of talent …”

Is it just me or is he more creepy now?

“Okay, two silver slips for the two days! But you will be doing double shifts and no food! Also, you sleep in the common room.”

“I will be willing to accept that offer.” Not much choice! “Four shifts in two days. How long are the shifts?”

“Shifts go for six hours. You be doing the dusk to dawn shift,” he eloquently grunts at me. Is it just me or does my luck seem to be horrid? Either that or I have poor negotiation skills;

things to think on. I play out this shift and then go back to that shithole Anvil and Musket to pick up my stuff.

All the paint peeling and rotten lumber smell, but this guy has a working clock! How could he afford one of those? It is beautiful. Doesn’t even suit the rest of the place.

Corbin grunts at me and hands me a club. “No swords! You can keep the knife. The Watch ent too gentle-like to finding dead folk round ‘ere.”

He leans in, and I’m almost knocked out by his foul breath. When will people use some sort of charcoal to clean their teeth? Heck, I do.

“If you need to teach someone a lesson, throw them out, drag them into the lane in the back, and give them a good kick or a little killin out there.”

Again with ‘killing someone a little’, but I learnt from my last experience.

Scoping, taking in all those sights and smells. Large saloon with twelve tables, a long bar with stools; it seems a raised stage for some sort of music stuff. Three bar wenches on and a couple of thugs who look tough. Well, three now, including me. Well, I can crack a head if I need to, but I prefer to talk my way out of things.

Doesn’t seem to be too hostile at the moment. Some workmen just knocked off, a merchant or two sipping wine in the corners. Might be an easy job.

Lake Merrin: Chapter Two.

Surviving that encounter was close. Though it will not be my last. Just another in a long line of being stabbed, beaten up, or straight up nearly murdered. I really need a better day job.

Living through that was not the only special thing that happened that day. I became an Adventurer …

What a beautiful day. Living through that death trap, appreciating life, and now off to the Hall!

Is that a pie shop I spy, and it sells beer too? My lucky day. Lukewarm beer, questionable meat pie, and if I can join a Charter today as well, it will be the most perfect day ever!

Arriving at the Hall always gives me goosebumps. The feeling of history, the great heroes who made their names here, and the money to be had. Ancient banners, relics thought lost to time and chilled ale. There is always a sight to see.

Soon I will be allowed upstairs to the private booths and it good with the bar next to the signing up area. Looking from above at the Duelling pit. Hey, some random people are beating on each other in the duelling pit. I like the look of the armoured one. Is that, no, couldn’t be, Order of the Shield?

What is a member of the Order of the Shield doing in here? I’ve only ever seen them on the battlefield. A big bunch of prats too. Always ordering us around like we were nothing. Nevertheless, I would still put some slips on him, no matter how much they are up themselves. Their skill with a sword is always top-notch. Now a travelling Halfling Bard has come in to share his talent—gotta love free music.

Best day of the week is the sixth one. Buy two cups of ale for the price of one. Such a bargain. It might even be cheaper once you are registered. So looking forward to that sixth day now! I do love me some beer or an excellent ale, as long as it is cheap or free.

In a wink of an eye, the fight is over, or was I thinking too long about beer? I’m too late to put any money down on the match. If I did, I would have won. Oh well, off to talk to the administrator.

Big hammer fellow is getting dragged past me by a tough-looking guy and—hold the presses!—Lana from the Travellers. Wow, only heard stories about them. Are there any other members of that Charter here? Can’t wait to see all of them.

Oh, my Trinity, there is a bloody line-up. Let’s play the waiting game. I played this game a lot in the army. We wait here, then we wait over there.

As long as you looked busy, the Captain didn’t care. But had to look really busy when the Sarge was walking around. If you were wasting time, she would find something for you to do. She busted me slacking off all the time! The number of latrine holes she made me dig; marching drills for hours on end, that wasn’t fun; and I never saw her have a drop of grog ever—not even once!

Even if she was weird, I did learn a lot from her. Wouldn’t be here today if she didn’t save me from the wrong end of a sword. From that day, I always have one silent toast in her honour.

After a stroll down memory lane, I can only think of sixth day two for one. Wonder what that beautiful girl that I occasionally have relations with is doing?

I’m just standing here, there is no one in front. Thank you, tired brain, for making the queue go away.

I walk over, and the administrator looks at me and says in a raspy voice, coughing up phlegm, “Come on, lad, been watching you stand there doing nothing for five minutes now. What do you want?”

That was shocking. Five minutes? I shrugged. Oh well, no queue.

“Come on, I haven’t got all day to watch you daydream. If you don’t tell me what you want, I’m going to have to ask you to leave!”

I shake my head and apologise, “Sorry, was jumped by some goons earlier today. Must be a little frazzled still, or it could be the pie.”

I can see Royce is becoming a little annoyed. “Sorry. You don’t care. Um, I’m here to sign up!”

He looks me up and down. “Do you wish to start a new Charter or do you want to apply for an opening in an existing Charter, if one is available?”

“Just hoping to pay the Halls dues and put my name down for any open spots.” I stood there just grinning.

“What’s so funny, boy? You look like some grinning idiot. Take this paperwork and fill it out. The annual fee is four gold slips.”

Every time I come into the Hall and ask about Charters, Royce gives me the same speech and then forgets me. Bloody senile human.

“This does not guarantee you a spot in a party, just allows you to apply for jobs and covers the administration of your documents …”

Wow, this guy can prattle on. I can’t stand listening to people who think they are smarter than me. Or annoying people. Like this guy, just talking about stuff that really doesn’t matter.

“… And after you are done with that there—”

He suddenly stops and looks at me. “Did you hear anything I just said, boy?”

“Of course I did! All this paperwork isn’t going to do itself. Here are the four slips, and may I borrow a quill and well to finish this?”

As he passes the writing kit over, I spy an empty table. Time to fill out this unnecessary paperwork. Looking at the forms, there are some interesting questions. Place of birth, okay. Name, I can do that. Skills and ability, well, that will be a short list. I can swing a sword, take orders, march, and scout—can’t forget that one.

Being a half-breed, they just give you the crap jobs. Okay, I can see in the dark—so? Bloody typical, racist bastards! I can ride a horse too. Well, my horse. I loved that horse. The only one that would come near me. Can’t remember its name now. Another typical fantastic trait of my half- bastard breed.

A bit of sand to help it dry and done! Back to Royce. Such a bothersome administrator. “With all your lollygagging, I thought this would take you longer.” He smiles and looks down at the form. “Let’s have a look at this … An army boy, haven’t seen that much.” He chuckles to himself. “This all seems in order. Here is your receipt. So, do you want your name in the pool for open Charter?”

“So, no Charters are looking for anyone? Willing to do any sort of job, even if they don’t want a new signing member. Ready to be signed on for a job or two.”

Royce says, “I have a group upstairs looking for a few members. I can put your name down, but …” He pauses to point to a tall Folk and then to an armoured knight from the pit before. “Those men seem to be more experienced than you. You are—no offence—a bit on the average side.”

Wow, try being told that you are pretty much useless—well, average. Abyss! When I served, I might not have been the cream of the crop, but I still wasn’t one of those ‘special’ cases, who didn’t know their left from their right. They were good for one thing: following orders, as long as you took the time to fully explain it to them.

“Come on. Okay, I’m not like that knight in shining armour or that savage, but don’t dismiss me. There must be people looking for someone, even just a body to fill a sentry spot.”

“Come back in a few days, see if any other parties are coming through these parts.” Such a waste of time. I turn to leave, but he is still talking. “Well, there is one job on the

Board. I don’t think they will mind too much for a solo to petition for this job!”

He coughs a little, and I think, Wow, do all older men have a phlegm factory in the back of their throat?

“As I was saying, the town Watch patrol is looking for bodies to fill the rank for an upcoming tour of the Duke. Three days’ work, good pay, and they aren’t too worried about experience.” Well, it is a job from the Hall. Beggars can’t be choosers, or is it lazy people like money, hmm?

“This would help me get out of a jam. Put my name down!” I exclaim. “So, what are the chances of me getting this job?”

Royce looks up. “I send over the parties that wish to do the job. I put you as ‘Lone Solo’. Not much of a name, but it will do.” He’s doing that old man chuckle—more phlegm and coughing than laughter. “They seem a bit rushed with this, so your chances are good.”

“You put me down as a party named Lone Solo? Okay, it is pretty stupid, but if it gets me some slips, then I’m fine with it.”

Why I love Writer Meetings.

One of my favourite things to do is either run a meeting or just go to one. With my monthly meetings up and running, and being a part of Gold Coast Writers’ Association, makes me want to reflect on my experiences.

Why do I go to these things? Or even run these writing groups? This can be a simple thing to answer, although I do have some selfish reasons as well. The simple answer is because I love being around over clever artistic people. Just being in the room of authors can be astounding!

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On the 18th of February, such a beautiful day. Ocean Reeve did his 10x step marketing program (which you can download for free at his site, just click on his name) and the buzz in the room, wow! During this day I meet eight new authors, and they were fan-bloody-tastic! Just a shout out to Elena P Ornig, Emma Zeta Skinner, Julian St Aubyn Green,  Jan Muir, Gold Coast Writers’ Association, and Kathrine Doyle. Just have to show my love for my fellow authors!

Each time I go to an adventure like the above pictures, you can see my beaming face as I am brimming with wonder and excitement being around this hive mind of creativity. I wouldn’t be publishing a book if it wasn’t for writing groups. Not much else I can say if you are looking to become an author, check your local area to see if there is any group. Your writing will develop, a thousand-fold as you have that support and creative spirit of other to move you forward.