Aaron Dembski-Bowden's Blog, page 7

A Tale of Five Heretics: It Lives Once More

Ladies and gents, guys and girls, after two years of silence and abject failure… It’s back.

Reborn. Resurrected. Resomethinged.

A Tale of Five Heretics (…and Two Heretical Guest Stars).

Feb 1st.

Eddie, the Talent. Neil, the Artist. Jordan, the Singer. John, the Writer. And me, I guess.

With Alan the Games Designer and Ead the Fucker Who Now Has a bajillion��points of HH Iron Warriors guest-starring when they can be bothered.

Watch this space.

The ‘Talon’ Selfie Contest Winners

I thought this should be the first post of 2015.

You probably remember the Honourable Mentions of the ‘Ultimate and Brilliant and Not At All Stupid The Talon of Horus��First Edition Selfie Contest’. At long last, here are the winners. I had specific prizes in mind at first for the lovingly themed, life-changingly artistic MS Paint portraits, but in the end��my boundless and unbridled creativity took over, and these haunting scenes are the result.

As you can see, these are artfully rendered pieces of raw brain matter; you can tell the artist (me) not only put part of his soul into each piece, but that he offered the very best parts of his heart, as well. I think we can all agree that whoever did these (it was me) is some kind of excellent visual-emotional miracle worker��who is totally available to do your heavy metal album cover for a very reasonable fee.

In third place, we have Andrew.

This is a picture of a man using his beard as a bookmark. I’m honestly not sure how else to caption this. It’s a human male using his beard as a bookmark. That’s hardcore.

The only way he could be more hardcore is if, say, he was a Viking war bastard standing astride the world like a Colossus, beneath the star-filled heavens.��As you can see, I was one of his most recent victims. The planet itself knows rage at my murder. That’s what the volcano is all about. It’s a metaphor for Gaia’s fury at the tragic death of her chosen son.

 

And then, in second place, there’s Darren.

That hat is basically unacceptable.

The caption was originally about banging his mum (or, as Americans would say, “mom”) but that felt a little too mean. Plus, I don’t bang all that many mums (or even moms). But hat-based commentary is very much my thing, so this felt intensely true to life. Also note the photorealistic cityscape behind the zombie horde eating poor Darren. The sunglasses pictured here are actual Aviator shades from the set of ‘Top Gun’, which was a movie about several very handsome flying homosexuals.

 

And in first place, we have Pete.

 

Admit it. This is clever.

Admit it. This is��a better story than any novel I’ve ever written.

And so this tragic waste of everyone’s time comes to an end.

Bless y’all who sent in selfies – there were a couple hundred in total, including several featuring altogether too much (or… maybe just the right amount?) of naked flesh. Congrats to Andrew, Darren, and Pete, who walk away triumphant with these most dubious of prizes.

For the record, I don’t really hate your hat, Darren. It’s like Star Trek;��I just pretend to hate some stuff. The only things I really hate are the Los Angeles Lakers, anyone who’s ever played for the Los Angeles Lakers, and anyone who at any point in their lives have considered themselves a Lakers fan.

Especially��this guy. OH GOD LOOK AT HIM MY EYES KILL ME SDNIFEIFEDMWSAUDHWKFQEMDVDVCAWCFV

DIE. DIE, YOU CUNT.

 

 

The Road to Jove – Webcomic Teaser

You may remember this��being mentioned as a project between myself and the artist David Sondered.

If you do recall me saying that, then well done. I congratulate you on your hale and hearty ability to remember things. You, sir or madam, are the best.

Here’s the December teaser image for our upcoming webcomic The Road to Jove. I��was supposed to be patient and post this on Christmas Day.

I’m really not a patient person, so…

 

 

Sevatar (…and Zach Braff)

Well, now. Here’s a thing. Sevatar, by David Severeide.

I posted it on Facebook last week, but it deserves a proper showing. Absolutely, perfectly, awesomely stunning.

Also, for your daily random: the wonderful Zach Braff holding a bolter.

I was first, though.

BLW3 & Forbidden Lore: The Talon of Horus

You may have noticed that I’m not online much right now. Not here, not there, not anywhere. This is indeed the case. If you noticed it, you’ve earned yourself a shiny new badge. You keen-eyed little fucker, you.

Mostly it’s to do with deadlines; I usually drop off the face of the Earth as a novel(la) starts its final gasping,��shitting-itself run to the finish line, and that’s exactly what’s happening now. I’m almost agonisingly ready for this novel(la) to be finished, because I’ve got an entirely new way of Making Words Happen beginning with the next project. I’m optimistic that’ll help me actually get within reach of a real deadline without doing what I usually do – which is to��take three times too long to write something, while lovingly composing tear-filled emails to my editor.

In unrelated news, I bring you a link, just to show I’m still alive. Here’s an interview I did with the Independent Characters for their Forbidden Lore segment, centred on��The Talon of Horus.��These segments are always spoilertastic, and this one’s no different. Here’s a direct link for your convenience. I start gobbing off at 1hr 35mins.

The Road to Jove is ticking away in the background, now at a stage where it requires much less work from me, since a lot of it is in David’s hands. So… good luck, dude. Y’all may remember this image and the fact I said absolutely nothing about it:

Well, soon I’ll say stuff about it. All kinds of things. Soon, soon, my pretty chickens.

Also, the Black Library Weekender III happened, and it was amazing. Specifics from these things are very hard to give, but suffice to say I had a blast.

Here’s Dan, in a moment of mentor-based hat theft.

 

A personal highlight was the wonderful and mighty��Roxana Hire (who was in the selfie contest, don’cha know) giving us this amazing gift, for Shakes.

“So, Daddy. How are you?”

 

And lastly, as I said on Facebook and Twitter, Katie may tell you I cried at the new Star Wars trailer. This isn’t true. Yes, I involuntarily trembled when I saw the X-Wings and heard their engine noises. Yes, it was almost a joygasm and fun-spasm in the same moment. And sure, when I saw the Millennium Falcon I covered my mouth with a hand and silently shed two entirely��manly tears.

But they were exquisitely manly, I promise you, in whatever context of “manly” you find most attractive in a friend, lover, or distant slow-ass novelist whose name you can’t spell without double-checking. A Viking lumberjack who eats bears? Sure, that’s me. A sensitive and poetic soul who looks hauntingly out over the oceanic horizon? Yeah, that’s me too.

The point is: I rock.

Those of you who live in that magical and possibly mythical world across the ocean will have recently celebrated either the (occasionally dry) deliciousness of poultry or… stabbing up a bunch of indigenous people. I’m not sure which, and I’m not one to judge. Suffice to say I love the idea of a holiday entirely centred on the idea of giving thanks and hanging out with your family, and I hope my dear Americanite readers gorged themselves appropriately on the flesh of flightless birds and the (occasionally dry) affection of their kindred.

Are we done here?

We’re done here.

Now go away.

 

2014’s Ultimate & Brilliant & Not At All Stupid ‘Talon of Horus’ Selfie Contest (Honourable Mentions)

Oh, man. Let’s just… let’s just get straight into this. We’ll yank this fucking tooth right out. It’s okay, peeps and creeps. I know it’s been aching.

There were too many to show them all, so here’s a random slice. We’ll call these the Honourable Mentions, with the winners announced next week.

Here we go.

This is Tom. I think Tom was the guy that actually found me on holiday in Bruges, and asked me to sign Helsreach. Which was a cross between terrifying and seriously cool as fuck.

This is Will and, presumably, Will’s Cat. Which was a key mistake in a selfie contest, as I absolutely fucking hate cats.

I have this entry listed in my notes as “Victoria”, though those are probably a guy’s arms and, presumably, Victoria’s cat. Which, again, was a fatal feline-based error. That said, I deeply admire the way her cat looks like it’s about to give Talon a 1-Star review. Fuck you too, cat.

This is Nicholas, who couldn’t even be bothered to file his teeth to points. No dice, slacker.

This is Carl from AMC’s The Walking Dead. He has a hat, and also a dad. One time he lost a shoe and a zombie was going to eat him but he ran away and the zombie didn’t eat him and then he had pudding.

This is my mum, who I love lots. She didn’t win though, because she’s my mum and that wouldn’t be cool.

This is Kobi, who would have had a way better chance at winning if he didn’t have almost the same name as Kobe Bryant (who I hate) of the Los Angeles Lakers (who I hate). Sadly, my pathetic biases knocked him out of the running, because I positively adore cats compared to how much I loathe the Los Angeles Lakers.

This is Will. I randomly decided he loses points for being too happy. His collar tattoo looks pretty hardcore, though.

This is Mike, who is *the most* Prussian-looking guy I’ve ever seen in my entire life. You honestly don’t even know how many times I made an Ubermensch joke in this text box, only to delete it with a vague sense of shame before hitting Enter.

Here’s Paul, who scores points for being one of the very first to get his photo in – hopefully before the point where I started getting everyone’s names wrong because there were too many to keep up with. I collect mugs, by the way. Did you all know that? Anyway, I do, and I badly want to know what’s written on the mug behind him in this shot.

This is Julian, who I know from a book signing or two. When I first saw him, he was like… a toddler or something. Now he looks massive. I haven’t even been writing that long, so I suspect some sort of Captain America-style super-serum at work.

Rihanna is known for frequently reinventing her style and image, most notably since Good Girl Gone Bad.[9][10] Her work has earned her numerous awards and accolades, including seven Grammy Awards,[1] eight American Music Awards, 22 Billboard Music Awards, and two BRIT Awards. In 2012, Forbes ranked her the fourth most powerful celebrity of the year, with earnings of $53 million between May 2011 and May 2012 [citation needed].

This is Matthew, who *gravely* underestimated how petty I am. You’re far better-looking than me, Matthew, so fuck off.

And here’s Mitchel, losing for exactly the same reason as Matthew.

Here’s Tyler, who – frankly – I’m in two minds about. His entry is disqualified for the fact he’s falsified the tome in question, but there are so many things to love here. 1. He actually recruited allies to help him sell it. 2. He’s standing in front of a gigantic plane engine turbine thing. 3. He used the word “Totally” not once but twice, which is totally how I talk. 4. He’s wearing sunglasses indoors, which is truly advanced douchebaggery, but also secretly cool. So… he loses, but I think I’m in love with him.

Here’s Charles, showing my book with a much better book behind it. One of the best novels ever written, in fact: ‘Gates of Fire’ by Steven Pressfield; one of the biggest influences on ‘The Talon of Horus’. So kudos for linking the two, but minus several million points for letting any other novel eclipse the cover of Pressfield’s glorious, glorious book.

I’ve got this gentleman’s name written down as Chud, which isn’t a word I’d ever actually use – and doesn’t sound like a real name that I’m aware of – so I apologise if I fucked that up somewhere. That said, he took the book to bed within minutes of owning it, which is the sort of sick lust I can only admire. And he’s so happy! That’s nice. Isn’t that nice? Well, I think so.

This is Gayle, in her Final Form. I sort of wanted to give her the top prize, but she’s the bad kind of centaur. I shouldn’t even need to explain why that’s the case. Also, I think she got married recently, if Facebook is anything to go by. I may be wrong, but if not – Congrats, Bad Centaur. All the best.

This is Daniel, technically doing me great dishonour and disrespecting a year of my hard work. But he’s dressed as a Stormtrooper, which basically gets all sins forgiven in my book. And he’s reading about X-Wings, so really, you can’t blame him for having his priorities straight.

Plus, I think he then sent this one in as an apology, which was unnecessarily nice of him. I do love that T-shirt.

Violence solves nothing, Gareth. Also, you look a bit like my friend Dave in this photo. He neither screams often nor wields a blade, but still. This was one of my fave photos – the passion! – but alas, didn’t make it into the final three.

Here’s Andy. Man, a lot of Stormtroopers read my work. And look at all that important-looking shit in the background. Numbers and papers and notes on boards. I bet that’s all about running the Death Star, and not at all about taxes or traffic figures or whatever.

Carl shows us his ink, his CDs (which very few humans still own, surely…) and his dreamy eyes. They’re like… the colour of dirty ice. Or morning mist. Excuse me while I dreamily sigh.

This isn’t a selfie, Christopher. This is showing off. It’s nice to know where #2 struck home, though. I don’t have #1, by the way. My copy is unnumbered, because the publishing gods mark me out for special favour. I am the beloved son of their pantheon.

This is Dean, whose passion and fervour both delight and alarm me. Firstly, it looks like this would really hurt your nose, and I’m not convinced opening your eyes that wide is an A+ idea, medically speaking. Like, ants could crawl in them. No one needs that. Even so, the artist’s use of perspective is effective and deeply haunting. Effective like a thing that works, and haunting in a good way, not like a ghost.

This is Charlotte, who once made me cry – in a good way – at a signing. I admit, this is pretty damn awesome. For like three seconds I thought it was real and she’d sliced herself up. It wasn’t awesome then, it was just scary.

This is Greg, who is: 1. Someone I know too well for him to win. 2. Nude. 3. Not even close to the only nude man that entered the contest.

…as you can see. Here we have Jonas continuing not only the nude theme, but also showing some sweet ink. Man, that’s just rad.

Jay and Dash, winning points for reading in bed with a moody skyline, but losing them for being 50% feline. I couldn’t even say why I hate cats, really. I just do. I think it’s because they’re so… I mean, they just *exist*, you know? And you trip over the fucking things and you could fall down the stairs and die, and they sleep on babies and the babies die, and they climb all over you and wake you up and Jesus Christ I hate cats so much oh my God.

This is Big Steve. Does this even need captioning? I’d argue that no, no, it doesn’t.

And here’s Jimmy. As much as I love the Ultramarines, I suspect he’s opening himself up to a barrage of people that don’t. I admit, I love that T-shirt, though. And this is from a guy that hated KEEP CALM tees even when they were still cool, because I’m such a churlish and unpleasant fellow.

Oh, Damien. You’re like… Commander Riker’s older, cooler, French, artist brother. Yes, I know that’s not Star Trek canon. But if Riker did have that, it would be you. A nice person would never hate other people for being handsome, but I’m not a nice person, Damien. You have chosen… poorly.

Here’s Debi Marie. This has all the right elements: She’s not too happy or too sad; she has the book (or a good fake); there are some curtains, a ceiling, even a picture. I know what you’re thinking: this photo has it all. So why didn’t it win? Well, it came close, but the stray lock of hair over her eye is just… just… Blow it out of the way, I beg you. I feel so powerless right now.

Liam’s entry is certainly dynamic. And that sweet beard? Oh, yes. I’m not sure if he’s in love with the book or if it’s gained sentience and agency, and has accordingly beaten the shit out of him. If it’s the former, then that’s fine. I don’t judge anyone (except Lakers fans). But if it’s the latter, I may feel just the barest tickling threads of guilt.

Michael chooses the boldest of moves, deciding that eating the book is preferable to reading it. Well, fine. I’ll come to your workplace and eat your job, too. See how you like it. (Please work in Burger King, and not in a car factory.)

Adam’s eating the book, too. Adam’s also losing a bajillion points because I know him too well. Not even an Aaron-style beanie can save him.

Rebecca sent me this slice of gloriousness. God’s bones, check that out. You can find these guys at Aurelius’s Armoury and Immaterium Infinitum. I want to kiss them all. I won’t, because jail. But I want to.

This is a screenie from a game of Civ I was playing a while ago. I don’t know why this is here. My army of Giant Death Robots was pretty sweet, though. Ain’t no fuckers crossing the border into Poland. Nuh-uh.

Mark-Anthony sends… this… in. There are a million things right with this photo, and almost nothing wrong. Look at that backdrop. The hat, the apron, the sword. Such bizarre class and style. But I can see his shorts, ruining the otherwise flawless illusion of nakedness. I’m not saying nakedness is something that gets you points, but by the Gods if you’re going to do it, you better commit to it.

Here’s Kirsty, looking altogether too happy. I realise I’ve said elsewhere that happiness is a good thing, but if you expected reasonable and consistent criteria from this, you’ve vastly misunderstood the Aaron experience. She does look happy, though. Like the rabbits in that documentary, Watership Down. They were happy. Y’know, the ones that survived.

I have nothing to say about James’ entry, except that it’s great, and that hat is freaking badass. Anyone who criticises this photo doesn’t deserve to live.

Lance, man, I feel a little like I pissed you off in another life. Or maybe I dinged your car, or something? I’ve made mistakes, man, but I can change. Don’t kill me with a crowbar. I… I have a son… Don’t make him need a stepdad…

Here’s Roxana with the helms of her weakling foes. This is one of the ones that’s basically just *too good* to win. If you hand out prizes to the people with Space Marine helmet collections, you’re setting a dangerous precedent. But Jesus, this rocks.

Like this, sent in by Richard. I mean, seriously, this is just *awesome*. It’s too good. I love it, but if this wins, I’d be dooming myself to this kind of quality next time, and all I can say it “Jesus, this is rad”. Which makes for boring captions.

Richard also sent this one in, which is still rad. A soulful Sunday afternoon, reading on the sofa, with moody lighting. I sort of feel like you’re too classy for me, Richard. It’s almost as if we’d be pals for a few days, but then you’d start rolling your eyes at all the dumb shit I say. Heartbreaking stuff.

The thing I like best about Ben’s entry is that I can’t actually work out which direction is which. Whatever 6-dimensional space you occupy, Ben, I hope gravity eases back on its terrifying games and lets you come back to Earth.

Hey. Don’t look so smug, Doug. I wrote that book, not you. If you tell anyone otherwise, I’ll cut you. I will *cut* you.

Chris has an intensity that’s hard not to admire. Let’s all pause here in our scrolling and admire it for a while. Is he happy? Hungry? Who knows? Maybe… maybe even Chris doesn’t know. His glare suggests to me that his thought processes are largely filled with the locations of various bodies.

And here’s Robert. Look, guys, why were so many of you mad at me? Do I need to start watching for a kidney-shivving at every signing?

 

Neil eschews a chance to eat the novel, and instead makes it is badass cyborg jaw. Which I sort of love. Also, it never stops being weird seeing your name on the spine of books. It still makes me go “…huh.”

Oh, Jamie. Jamie, no. This is one of those “Too awesome” ones again that I love, but… No. You and I can never be. I’d be intimidated by your masterful knowledge of esoteric European cinema, and you just don’t look like a Phoenix Suns fan.

Paul. I may never meet you, or I may have already met you and forgotten, because my memory is shit and when you meet a few hundred people at a signing, it screws with your recollection. But I want you to know this: I straight-up love you.

Jon, you wonderful bastard. You’re my friend in real life so you can’t win, but man, even for you this is some classy shit. As if I ever doubted you.

Ben… I *have* to know what that certificate behind you is. Forget the Goddamn book. Get the certificate. TELL ME.

To my immense shame, I saved this as “HOLY SHIT THAT’S AWESOME” and didn’t catch the name. I’m sorry! I’ve failed you. I’ll do penance.

Abby scores points for the helm, but loses All The Points for not having the book. Cheating, like a cheater… but a cheater with a rad helmet.

A safely and much-appreciated neutral pic from Andi. Here’s a man with no-nonsense shelves, a crooked smirk, and a book with spikes on it. A book, let’s note, that he looks decidedly unimpressed with. I admire that degree of honesty, even as it turns my fragile heart to bitter ash.

This is Rihanna on a boat. Or a ship. I’m not always sure of the difference, to be honest.

This is Rob, whose slippers are plainly awesome. Would you like to know a story? One time when I saw Rob, I said “I know you.” And Rob said “No you don’t,” and pointed to a guy next to him who looked exactly the same. “You know him,” said Not-Rob, who was really Rob’s twin brother. And that’s the story. Look, I never promised it would be interesting.

Mark has two copies (one was for his friend, or perhaps just for his “friend” eBay), and also an Eye of Horus T-shirt, which is maximum sexy. The sun glare through the door hurts my eyes though, and I’m not even in the room with him, so screw you, Marc.

The thing I love best about George’s photo is that he plainly took it a second too early, looking down at the screen or the mouse rather than the camera. That’s the kind of thing that I do, so top points, dude. Also, I see your sprues. Get to painting, slacker.

Terry, good sir, a less secure man than myself might think you’re saying my book smells bad. I do like your arm-dog, though. I’d like an arm-dog – I promise you I would not use that power for the good of my fellow man.

See, Lee *looks* happy, but I don’t buy it. I get a bad vibe, like the moment I turn my back on him, he’ll use the book to beat me to death. In fairness, I get that vibe with everyone. It has nothing to do with Lee. He seems nice, but I’ve trusted too many times before.

Oh my God, Mike. This is the *best* face. If we ever meet (or meet again?) please, please, please make this face and let me get a photo with you. It’s like… ultra-smug, on a level I badly want to master myself. You rock on toast.

 

And those, ladies and gentlemen, are the Honourable Mentions. I’ve got to jet off to the Black Library Weekender for a few days, but I’ll post the winners next week.

If you’re coming to the Weekender, then I’ll see you there. If you’re not, then… I won’t, I guess. Hmm. I really didn’t think that sentence through.

The Void Stalker Cover… Tattoo?

Okay. I want to be calm and casual about this… but it’s too awesome.

Some fine and noble gentlemen (by the names of Andrew and Doug) mentioned this at the last HH Weekender, but seeing it happening is nine kinds of killer. Check it out – Jon Sullivan’s breathtaking Void Stalker artwork, etched upon that most Night Lordish of canvases, human flesh:

 

 

 

 

 

The Road to Jove

I’m almost entirely offline this week (and barely online lately, with mega-deadlines), but here’s a little taste of something from an upcoming project – The Road to Jove – between me and David of Studio Colrouphobia.

 

 

Talon, out in the wild.

People have started getting their First Edition copies of The Talon of Horus, and I’ve already been sent a couple of initial comments along with a surprising number of selfies for The Contest. And I was pretty damn happy to be sent some initial comments from first-day readers Lucien Eilam and Balthamal:

“It’s all juice. A veritable Chekhov’s arsenal of foreshadowing. There’s barely a chapter you’ll be able to make it through without going “hang on, he did what to who?!” or similar. A lot of people are going to be starting Black Legion armies this year. I’d advise against [getting spoilers]. Like Legion, I think it’s a story that’s better if you get the surprises and revelations in the right order.”


“Finished it. Want to crank my jaw off the floor and try to wrap my broken mind around it. In short this has been knocked so far out the park it’s gone intercontinental.”

And, with terrifying enthusiasm, this from Facebook:

That bodes well. And here are some pics of that bad boy getting unwrapped in the great wide world, on various people’s desks and carpets:

I’m saving the selfies for the actual contest, but some of them are absolutely adorable.

I think the most surprising aspect (on my end of things, at least) is how amazing it felt to actually see people with their copies. Outside of book signings (which are honestly too surreal and chaotic to really allow any focus) you rarely actually see people with your books in their hands. It was equal parts reassuring and weird, but mostly I’m glad everyone was so happy to get them, and commenting on the insane production values.

In other news, I said a while back that I had the internal artwork and the cover framed and on the wall of the Aaronorium, and they look awesome all up there together. This is indeed true. Behold the evidence:

 

‘The Talon of Horus’ Selfie Contest

It is an age of darkness. And also, of huge-ass black books that are easily hefty enough to use as weapons.

People will be getting their First Editions of The Talon of Horus this week/end, and that rocks on toast. I warned you I’d be asking for selfie evidence that the copies have reached their new homes, but that’s too boring. In conjunction with the demand for photographic evidence, it’s time to announce that little contest I was talking about a while back. You know the one I mean. The one with the unbelievably bad prizes, based on my excellent MS Paint cover artwork in the past.

So send me your selfies with the book, and the best three photos (or the three I choose at random if I’m feeling lazy) will win one of the fabulous prizes described in the following tweets:

FIRST PLACE:

I’m going to run a contest soon. The first prize will be an MS Paint picture of you and me being friends.

— Aaron Dembski-Bowden (@adembskibowden) July 1, 2014

SECOND PLACE:

The second prize in the upcoming contest will be an MS Paint picture of you and me trying to be friends, but ultimately unable to bond. — Aaron Dembski-Bowden (@adembskibowden) July 2, 2014

 THIRD PLACE:

Third prize in the upcoming contest will be an MS Paint picture of you and me failing to be friends because I don’t have time for your shit.

— Aaron Dembski-Bowden (@adembskibowden) July 2, 2014

Oh, wow, right? Who can resist that? But wait, there’s more! I solemnly promise to not just draw you in carefully rendered artfulness, but also make the following guarantees:

I guarantee to probably spell your name correctly.
I guarantee to use at least two colours, and perhaps even as many as four.
I guarantee that I won’t sell your image to the government and/or use it as target practice for my crossbow.

If these incredible prizes interest you, then you can upload your selfies to my Facebook page, my Twitter feed, or email them to aaronwdb@gmail.com. The winner will be announced at some point in the near future.