Katherine Vick's Blog, page 3

On the Matter of Inhumanity

 On the Matter of Inhumanity

I feel the time has come to set out my stall on the evergrowing issue of AI and its use in society. And my stall is very simple.

I HATE it.

Why so dramatic a statement you may ask? Surely it’s just aharmless tool to aid in creativity and productivity? But as someone who livesher life positively vibrating with frustration at the injustices and unkindnessesof modern society, what I see is something that heavily magnifies both. Let meexplain.

I shall start with injustice. A very basic fact of AI thatpeople seem to forget is that is draws its knowledge from pre-existinginformation that it has been fed. Everything it creates and produces is takenfrom previous human endeavour – but often, it has been taken without the permissionor even the knowledge of the original creators and is now being used to undercutand undermine their own ability to make a living by creating free knock offcopies of their work.

And worse, much worse – it is even being used to replacethem. There is already talk of AI authored screenplays and scripts in the filmand TV industry. AI art is being used instead of hiring artists. Genuine humancreativity is being pushed aside in favour of an easy, cheap alternative. Andit isn’t just the creative industries that are being affected – ordinary,straightforward jobs are being pushed out of existence by it too. I’m sure we’veall suffered the “joys” of interacting with a customer services chatbot, as itstonewalls and blocks you from actually being able to get anywhere with a totallack of compassion for you as a person.

And total lack of compassion brings me to unkindness. AIdoesn’t care about people and sadly, that reflects a lot of modern profitdriven society. People talk of an idealised society where computers do all theworking and the thinking and we can just relax but do we really want to live ina world where existing as the unthinking, computer ruled blob people fromWALL-E is the best case scenario? A bunch of lazy humans who never troubletheir brains in any way, shape or form?

And knowing the selfish, money-ruled nature of modern existence,I don’t believe that “best case” is what would actually happen. Far more likelyis that AI will simply put vast numbers of people out of a job and massivelyincrease poverty and destitution in the name of saving money for business. Butthese businesses lack vision for where do they think their profits will comefrom when half the world is unemployed? And more, the world of business andindeed often these days of politics seem to view people as commodities to beused and mined or as a source of profit or custom, but not cared about orlooked after as people and to quote the late, great Terry Pratchett “Evilbegins when you treat people as things.”

Because AI represents the ultimate in inhumanity. Not justin and of itself, but allowing and enabling humans themselves to behave ininhumane ways with far greater ease. It is speeding up loss of the simple factthat what matters is society is not ease of existence or how much profit onecan rake in, but PEOPLE. Human creativity is far more valuable that anything acomputer can cook up from the scraps their endeavours. The quality of humanexistence is far more important than any amount of money. Caring about otherhumans should not be pushed aside in favour of protecting a profit margin. Andthese basic truths are getting increasingly lost. And AI is, as mentioned,magnifying the ability of other humans to lose them.

At the end of the day, I know AI is just a tool. My issue isthe inhumanity of those who will make use of it and what they will use it to do.And that is what I hate it for.

Unboxing Society

 Unboxing Society

Anyone who has read my books (and if not, why not?) may havenoticed I’m not a fan of stereotyping. I am in fact strongly in favour peoplebreaking free of the expectations society places on them on the basis of theirbirth and upbringing and (within reasonable legal bounds obviously!) beingexactly who they are. Some people might even describe my characters as “livingtheir best life” or “being their true selves.”

However – I wouldn’t.

Because, dear reader, I despise those two phrases asthey are used in this day and age. To me, they are merely an emphatically statedgateway for stepping straight from one stereotype box and into another. To methey represent not freedom but a whole new set of rules. They represent thatsociety is boxed up.

Allow me to explain.

Society has always come in boxes. Historically, there wasthe male box and the female box, the rich box and the poor box, differentethnic boxes and cultural boxes and each one came with its own set of rules ofdress, behaviour, profession and attitude that had to be obeyed – just like lifein the Realm. Everybody had a box and everybody was expected to stay put in it.Those who stepped outside these boxes were considered strange or wicked ordangerous and inevitably set upon, punished or excluded.

And while times have changed, the boxes have not. For whilethe number of boxes has expanded with previously othered options now available forvarious sexualities, genders (or non-genders), ways of being and lifestylechoices, the boxed nature of society is unchanged. The major difference is thatmovement from one box to another is now possible, albeit not always easy. Andinevitably, when someone says they are “living their best life” or “being their true self,” what they mean is – I’m moving out of that box and into thisbox now. And no matter how freeing being out of the old box may feel, the newbox still has its own rules of dress and behaviour and a societal expectationaround it that one is expected to live up to. At the end of the day, it’s stilla box.

I feel very strongly about doing away with boxes. Living upto the expectations of a societal box – any box – can be crushing. People acrossall types of boxes both traditional and recent find themselves not wanting towear certain clothes and behave a certain way in case people get the wrong ideaabout who they are and where they fit in. Others overcompensate by pushing tothe extremes of their box to prove their place in it as much to themself asanyone else. None of these people are being their “true selves” as far I cansee. They are being the selves that lives in that box and wants to fit in witheveryone else there. Belonging means more to them than being themselves.

Rather than making more and more boxes worth of stereotypesfor people to fit into and move between, I wish we could just do away with the boxes altogetherand just let everyone, genuinely, be themselves. In order to truly find out whoyou are, one needs to think very much outside the box. Examine honestly whatabout your current way of being makes you happy and what doesn’t. Find a placewhere you are comfortably just you and live in it. As long as you being youdoesn’t harm anyone else’s way of being them, then that’s the way to be. Findyour fit and not society’s expectation of it. Stop worrying about fitting inwith what everyone else expects and just be you. Find whoever you is when thatbox worth of expectation is stripped away.

And then, just maybe, saying you are being your true self and living your best life will mean exactly that.

Short Story - Ever After

A slightly longer short story for you to celebrate the coming of a certain season, written for a long ago Christmas writing challenge with a large variety of cliches prompts to work in. My take was this - that happily ever after depends on your point ofview…;)

Ever After 

“You’re sure theydon’t know about this?”

Lord Arthek stared at the gaunt, anxious face of his oldfriend and neighbour Baron Tewdar and gave as much of a reassuring smile as hecould under the circumstances.

 “As sure as you canbe with… them,” he said, his voicebetraying the slightest tremor of anxiety as he glanced once more at the vastdouble doors at the head of his feasting chamber. “I made everyone I invitedpromise not to mention this at court in case word got back and I only told thosethat I truly trust that we’re doing this. If we’re lucky…”

  He did not finishthe sentence. He didn’t have to. The hope hung in the air like waft of sweet perfume.

  Baron Tewdar gazedaround the hall, his long, languid face that had, for so many months now, beenlocked in dour resignation cracking slightly at the edges as he risked a smile.“You’ve done a wonderful job with the place,” he remarked with a quiet nod.“It’s…subtle. Understated. Tasteful.”

  The relief in hisvoice was tangible and Arthek understood exactly how he felt. When he had firstdecided to risk it, to try, just forthe sake of his sanity and his eyeballs if nothing else, to hold a small,private celebration for the Midwinter Festival here at his remote countrymanor, he had resolved to do away with all the ostentatiously trappings he wasforced to endure at court and go back to the simple, half-hidden designs theyhad perfected during those long ago years when they’d had a different life anda different ruler, one who had, to say the least, not been given to celebrationand show the way their current monarchs were. Simple garlands of holly and ivycircled the doorways, the chandeliers and the windows, little posies of winterflowers nestling on the tables between the straightforward plates of vegetablesand meat being laid out for the feast. Coming as they just had from a courtfilled with silk and velvet drapes of all colours of the rainbow, of goldfiligree and silver leaf that decked every room, every hall, every chamber, ofbright paintings and tapestries on every wall depicting the events of TheTriumph, it was like a breath of clean, pure air.

  A little frown linehad appeared between Baron Tewdar’s eyebrows, chasing away his brief moment ofsmile. An expression all too familiar to Arthek crept over his face.

 “You don’t think….”he started and then paused, letting escape a brief sigh before trying to speakthe words once more. “You don’t think we’re being…ungrateful, do you?”

  It was Arthek’s turnto sigh, his turn to feel that terrible little of guilt that assailed himwhenever thoughts such as this crossed his mind. After all, when one consideredwhat had come before…

  The Domination. Anevil emperor, powerful, ruthless, cold, who had dominated their lands, who hadslaughtered their children and eviscerated their lands, who had committed themost terrible atrocities on any who defied him and then two had come, he hadcome and she had come and those terrible times had been over. A new rule, a newtime, a new dawn…

  But now…

  He understood it, hereally did. The emperor’s court had been so dark, his kingdom so devoid ofcolour, other than the occasional splash of blood and lick of flames, that hecould understand their need to contrast, their fervently spoken desire to makethis a land of brightness and joy again. But did they have to be so… rigorousabout it?

  The guilt, the awfulguilt, the thing that had led so many noble lords, hardened warriors who hadbattled fiercely and loyally for their freedom to submit themselves to theindignity of velvet pantaloons in a fetching shade of maroon, to peacockfeather hats and cloaks of dyed sable, to embroidered brocade doublets slashedwith splashes of turquoise and mauve, was clawing at his soul. Yes, they weregrateful, of course they were grateful. But no one had ever expected gratitudewould have to be like this…

 “No, no, of coursenot.” The words were as much to silence the claws as to reassure his oldfriend. “They wouldn’t want to come all the way out here anyway.”

 “You’re right ofcourse. You’re right.” Tewdar bit his lip. “I still think about the Domination,you know.”

 Arthek noddedsolemnly. “As do we all.”

 “All those terriblethings that happened.”

“Dreadful, dreadful things.”

 “All those innocentpeople. All the dear friends we lost. Like Gorlas…”

 “Poor Gorlas. No wayto die. No one should have to eat his own feet.”

 “Lewyth, of course.”

 “I’ll never look at aslice of grapefruit in the same way again.”

“And Clemo…”

 “We do not talk about Clemo.”

  Both men shudderedas one as their memories went on the same trip down memory lane and plungedstraight into a mutual pit of unpleasantness. The emperor had had a rather sicksense of humour.

  “But still…”Tewdar’s voice slipped cautiously into the silent void that followed. “The timein the caves… The camaraderie we had… The meals made out of nothing much thatturned into feasts. Our last Midwinter…”

  Arthek smilednostalgically. “A sprig of holly and a curl of ivy, a half-dead grouse and someroots. We sang songs all night and laughed until morning.”

  “And you know,”Tewdar mused on. “I have found myself thinking lately that if it hadn’t beenfor the inventive deaths and the mass murders and the burnings and maimings andslaughterings and all that… Well… That life wasn’t so very bad…”

  He was nodding.Arthek could actually feel himself nodding along and a part of his brain pickedup a heraldic trumpet and blew a very loud fanfare. He had spent ten years ofhis life living in caves and ditches, eating roots and in constant threat of adeath that, whilst most unique, would certainly lack in dignity and he haddreamed every night that someone would come, that things would be better, thathe would be rich and warm and prosperous just as he was today. He hadeverything he’d ever wanted and now here he was looking back on those timeswith nostalgia.

  How had he come tothis?

  He should begrateful. He was grateful. He was.

  He just preferred tobe grateful from a distance.

  “I am grateful though.” Tewdar’s words spuninto his friend’s silence in almost desperate reassurance. “I wouldn’t goback.”

  “Of course not.”Arthek repeated the words. “Of course not.”

  And that was thetrouble. Bad as things could be for those at court, they were still a darnedsight better than the alternative.

  Arthek thought ofvelvet pantaloons and shuddered. Mostof the time.

  And his guests werestarting to arrive now, dressed in simple gowns and plain doublets, smiling atthe natural decorations and the uncomplicated food. All bore expressions ofrelief tinged just around the edges with the fear that any second, it would allbe ruined.

  His dear wife, LadyZenobia bustled abruptly to his side. Her expression was slightly disapproving.“Don’t just hide over here with Tewdar,” she scolded him gently. “This is meantto be your party, Arthek. Circulate.”

  Images flashedthrough Arthek’s head of two fingers bedecked in jewels and bright colours,circulating a vast ballroom as a magical voice wove colours and explodedfireworks in the air and a sword flashed to carve amusing shapes out of thefruit centrepiece, the undisputed centres of attention. He shuddered.

 “I’m happy here,” hesaid firmly. “I don’t do circulating.”

 “You say it like it’sa curse word.” Zenobia sighed. “You don’t have to process or display yourself like… they do. Just go and talkto people.” An eyebrow rose cynically. “Take Tewdar with you if you’re that afraid.”

  There was to be nogetting out of it, it seemed. His wife on one side and his oldest friend on theother, Arthek set out into the room.

  And it was there hediscovered the problem.

  The party waseverything he and his friends had wanted. It was simple, it was tasteful and itwas quiet. Every one of them should have been having a wonderful time. But itwas there on every face, in every furtive look, passing in every conversation.He could hear it and he could see it and he could almost smell it.

  The fear. And theguilt.

  And it was like apresence, invisible, overwhelming, watching them, an unwelcome, uninvited guestweighing down upon the party. It only took a moment’s listening to find it.

  “Not to beungrateful, of course. I mean, shedoes spend a great deal on… improvingthe palace and gives away all those clothes and jewels. She’s got that vastfortune you know, inherited when her father was killed by the emperor…”

 “And I mean, he did defy his banishment by his family tokill his own twin brother for us. I mean, that brother was an evil emperor with a twisted gift for death but it stillcan’t have been easy…”

 “And of course shetravelled all that way to train in the knightly arts with the ancient Hermit ofMond, last of the great warrior monks. I still wonder how a little thing likeher manages to wear all that heavy armour…”

 “And, he did sail allthe way to the Templeof the Fervent Virgins to master that talent of his he hates so much. I mean,how would you cope having a magical singing voice when you’re tone deaf?”

 “Not to mention themmaking him carry their baby.”

“Makes me cross my legs just thinking about it. I do wonderthough – do you reckon that has something to do with that pendent he nevertakes off?”

  “…everything thepoor lass did for us. She’s got that awful scar right across her cheek from herbattle with the emperor’s henchman, although it does rather flatter the line ofher cheekbones…”

“…those eyes ofhis. Have you ever seen golden eyes before? They say he can look straight intoyour heart and see everything within it.”

 “You don’t think… hecan tell… that we…”

 “But it’s just aparty. We are grateful!”

 “Of course we are!”

 “Of course…”

  Of course they were.Arthek sighed. That was the trouble. They were afraid to go back to the glitterand sparkle, to a world where everyone and everything revolved almost bydefault around two towering figures and their wishes. And the worst thing wasthey weren’t evil. They meant well, they meant to bring joy but they were sobright, so burningly vivid, so all consuming a presence that no one else couldever get a look in. They were and always would be the absolute centre ofattention; even at a party where they weren’t even present. It was a world that was awful but well meant, that itscourtiers longed to escape and feared, not mortally, but socially to return to but yet felt guilty for the fear. They weregrateful enough to feel that they didn’t feel grateful enough.

  Zenobia was at hisside, biting her lip. Tewdar just looked grim.

  And then just whenit seemed that the unwelcome guests at their party could not make theirpresence any more felt, came the birdsong.

  The entire partyfroze as one, the guilt that had bred the fear abruptly crushing all hope as avivid blue songbird swooped into the room and landed with an elegant swish onthe chandelier above. Loftily, it gazed at the holly and ivy circling its perchbefore shoving it out of the way with one delicately poised claw. It clearedits throat.

  “I, Flittery, mostnoble pet and messenger of their gracious majesties, King Achilles and QueenGuinevere, saviours of your realm, bring you their glad tidings upon thisMidwinter eve!” it exclaimed in a high pitcher twitter. Deep in the privacy ofhis own mind, Arthek quietly but fervently wished for a crossbow and a littlewillpower. “I also bring you their honoured invitation – to abandon this humblegathering and to indulge in the true glory of a proper celebration as befitsyour noble status. Your monarchs would do you honour and their carriagesalready await you without. Attire yourself in your finest garb and come at oncefor the magnificent honour of all! Long live the King and Queen!”

  There was a pausebefore a ripple of reciprocal “long lives…” echoed reluctantly around the hall.The bloody little bird gave them all a look of profound disdain and the ripplehurriedly became a surge. With a more approving nod, Flittery the messengerbird vanished in a flurry of wings.

  Silence fell. Fearturned to resignation but the guilt was at least sated.

  Zenobia breathed outslowly. “I’ll get your pantaloons, shall I?”

  On his other side,Tewdar was staring quietly but desperately out of the window as he faced theprospect of ever after in short, shiny trousers and doublets dripping in gaudyjewels. He swallowed hard.

  “And I’ll see you inthe caves…” he said.

NOTE: For those you are interested, the cliche fantasy prompts I had to work in were:

1.Eyes which are an unusual colour, and have some sort of power or offer insightinto their character.
2. The character is heir to some kind of fortune.
3. A character name which is more commonly a noun, verb, or adjective OR istaken from a mythological or historical figure.
4. The character has some kind of skill or ability which they consider a curse.
5. The character is estranged from their family/tribe etc. or currently undersome sort of banishment order.
6. A strange or unusual pet.
7. The character is studying something like martial arts or magic or an obscureart form with the help of the last remaining master of that particular craft.
8. The character has an evil or very good twin.
9. The character holds some kind of gender-anachronistic position (is a malegeisha, a female fighter pilot in WWII etc.)
10. The character has some sort of item (jewellery or book etc.) which theynever part with, for reasons they can’t or won’t explain.
11. The character has a singing voice with some sort of power.
12. The character has some kind of physical ‘flaw’ which doesn’t detract fromtheir beauty.

I think I did okay. ;)

Very Short Story - The Eye of the Storm

As ever, this was a challenge piece written long ago for the prompt "storm".  It seems to have relevance at the moment, though to be fair these days the fashion is more to brazen it out than take one's medicine...

The Eye of the Storm

All around his home, the storm was raging.

He could feel the windows rattle with the sheer force of itspower, the tumultuous thunderous noise without deafening even through theglazing. He felt a man under siege, lost in the vast maelstrom from which heknew there could be no escape, flashes of vicious, vindictive light archingconstantly towards him, towards his family and their last refuge. The force ofit was shaking their very foundations.

  They were trapped.

  And only he couldsave them.

  He glanced over hisshoulder as he swallowed hard, turning away from the window and moving slowly,relentlessly towards the door with the gait of a man condemned. He saw hiswife’s tight lips and sallow face, his son’s cross-armed defiance in the faceof this assault, his daughter’s tear-stained and terrified face. They all knewthat the moment he stepped into the arms of the storm, he would be torn topieces.

  But what choice didhe have?

  With tremblingfingers, he reached out and opened the door.

  The power of itstruck him full face like a slap across the jaw, the noise stealing his hearing,the blinding light snatching his sight, the sheer energy of the monstrositybefore him almost overwhelming. It took all the strength he had to step downinto the face of it and at once the fury of the storm front surged towards him,camera light-bulbs flashing, microphones thrust out as a cacophony of voicesscreamed for him and all but burst his eardrums.

  “Minister! Minster!What do you have to say in regards to these allegations?”

  He sighed deeply,extending his hands in a probably futile gesture for calm.

  “If you will quietdown!” he declared. “I’m prepared to make a statement…”

A Bit of Music - The Maid of Mercy from The Disposable

Something a bit different for you this month - some time ago, I attempted to get the tune of that AFC classic hit, The Maid of Mercy, down by recording myself singing it while holding my phone over a very rough map of The Realm I drew to keep myself orientated. Now it's not exactly a piece of magnificent music - it's fair to say Dullard and the AFCs are way, way better singers than I am - but I thought people might be interested to know the tune I had in my head for what they were singing. :) I apologise profusely for it being my voice...;p


 

The Art of Knowing Which Ship to Sail

 I shall precede this blog post with a warning - it contains SPOILERS for certain aspects of the plot of The Taskmaster and therefore if you haven't read it yet (and if not, why not?) and don't want certain elements to be revealed in advance, I wouldn't go any further if I were you:

The Art of Knowing Which Ship to Sail

I’m not one of life’s great writers of romance. I’m able toadmit that. I’m willing to give it a go where plot and character demands, but,aside from a few fanfiction dabblings, I rarely write a story that could be saidto based entirely around a romantic relationship. Relationships are a part ofmy work, but I never considered them to be central, woven in rather than thedominant force. I place them where I feel they are appropriate. Judging wherethey are appropriate however, can sometimes be an interesting challenge.

For example – take my intentions towards the character’spersonal relationships in the Plot Bandits books. When I first plotted out thisstory in my notebooks, I was absolutely definitely going to pair up Fodder and Flirt –indeed, you can probably still detect a few early sprigs of this intent scatteredabout in the early parts of The Disposable. It had crossed my mind Imight also pair up Dullard with Pleasance but I had a few reservations on thatscore as to whether those characters would really work together as a couple andso I noted it as a question marked possibility to consider when the time came,but otherwise didn’t think much more about it.

And then I started writing.

And slowly, but surely, a few doubts crept in about Flirtand Fodder being put together. Not because I didn’t think they would worktogether, as I happen to believe they would, but because I began to feel uneasyabout pairing Flirt up at all. The more I wrote her, the more strongly I beganto feel that her character arc didn’t fit with ending up in a relationship. Herstory was one of striving to be seen as more than just – to phrase it politely– “romantic interest”. Somehow, dropping her into a couple, even one I likedthe idea of, didn’t seem right any more. And as I wrote, I realised I justdidn’t have time to develop that kind of relationship between her and Fodderanyway – there was just too much else going on and at the crucial juncture ofthe story when that kind of thing might have evolved, my plans changeddramatically and suddenly I had split them apart into different plot lines.

So I hit on the compromise found in The Taskmaster –having Fodder propose at the end and having her turn him down, but not definitively.That way, those readers who prefer to think of Flirt remaining a strong, singlewoman could do so, while those shipping her and Fodder could choose to assumethey got married at some point after the conclusion of their Quest rerun andlived happily ever after. Every reader wins. ;)

And then, of course, came Dullard and Pleasance.

I still had those aforementioned doubts, of course. I’venever been a big fan of that tired old hatred-to-passion romantic cliché as I’ma firm believer that that sort of relationship is a quick ticket to a veryunhappily-ever-after. And those doubts lingered right up until the moment I putthe pair of them in a scene together.

And to my absolute astonishment, they just worked. Ithad nothing to do with me, I assure you. Even when Pleasance was screaming herhead off at Dullard, there was just chemistry. They ignited the wholething entirely between themselves by picking up every scene I placed them intogether and running away with it, leaving me to flounder along behind tryingdesperately to keep up with them. My thoughts of the subject no longer mattereda jot. They had decided that they were going to be a couple.

Writing their scenes quickly became one of the joys ofcreating the story. I’m sure anyone out there who writes will understand thepleasure of writing characters that just flow. I barely had to make aneffort, everything they did together clicked (at least for me, I can only hopemy dear readers feel the same!). Up until Dullard was introduced, I hadstruggled a bit with writing Pleasance, especially since she was mostly beingseen from the point of view of characters who really weren’t her biggest fans,so trying to find ways for the audience to sympathise with her without dullingher edge was a bit tricky. But as soon as Dullard came along, she blossomed.Interacting with Dullard humanised her in a way interacting with Fodder, Flirtand Shoulders simply couldn’t. I found her vulnerable side and with it, I foundher. And once she was found, she was very clear on who she was going to end upwith.

It is one of greatest ironies of writing a story aboutcharacters rebelling against their author that two of mine entirely ran offwith a big chunk of plot just by working together. But I didn’t object. In fact,I’m extremely grateful they did.

And I suppose that’s what I’m trying to say here really.When it comes to sailing the right ships, the most important thing is to listento what the characters think. If they don’t feel like that relationship will beright for them, how will it ever be right for the audience? But when twocharacters chose to sail their ship together, whether planned or not, aim itstraight for the sunset and roll with the current. Because the characters, atthe end of the day, know best.

Fodder Story Plan - The Original Notes Part Two

 And here we go again, continuing from last month's blog with the second half of my behind the scenes original story plan for a single book called Fodder. Big fat warning here folks - this part of the plan does venture into territory covered by The Taskmaster so if you haven't finished reading it yet, this is an official SPOILER WARNING. It's not exactly as it turned out but it's close enough! This is also the section that reveals just exactly how out of control this story got - in case you think as you are reading through that I've missed a chunk of notes out somewhere, nope - it is indeed the case that the whole second half of The Merry Band, the entirety of The Narrative and a large chunk of The Taskmaster were not part of my original intentions. It's fair to say I may have got carried away. ;p

Fodder Basic Story Plan - Continued

[Part Five as go into mountains, pre crone and ruined city

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: Part Five

 

An old crone points them in Vagg’s direction, but warns them of a monstrous dragon that lives in the hills and hungers for the taste of human flesh. As they head into ominous forests and pass through a ruined city, they are attacked once more by creatures and lose each other in the ruins/forest. The princess and Erik find themselves trapped in a cave where an enormous dragon attacks them – Erik’s powers burst into life and he defeats it, before escaping together on Erik’s horse who found him instinctively. It is then that Eldrigon reveals his destiny – he is in fact Erikhelion, the last descendant of Avikhelion and his own other daughter, the Seeress Mydrella, who was murdered by Craxis too when she prophesised his downfall. Young Erik is the only one who can use the Ring against Craxis and has inherited the magic of Eldrigon’s line. Having saved Islaine, he and the princess grow closer as they pursue Vagg into Sverdin and find an enormous battle is about to begin. Sir Roderick and Halheid ride off to rally their forces and lead them, leaving Zahora, who had come to love Halheid in spite of his gruff ways, forced to wonder if she will ever see him again. After Islaine and Erik share a kiss and declare undying love for each other, Eldrigon has Zahora take the Princess safely back to Nyolesse and charges her to protect her with her life. Then with Slynder, Eldrigon and Erik set off behind the battle lines for the fortress of Craxis.]

 

Make it into the Wild Forest where they find themselves at the hovel of Cackle the Crone – Squick is waiting for them there – the DPs live in the Forest – and tells them that he’s under orders – he’s been banned from fixing them – Shoulders, with his head under one arm, protests, but Squick says he’s sorry but it’s more than his job’s worth. He explains that the quest has adapted – they’ve become henchmen of Sleiss, Treptapus has been seduced by the Dark Lord into helping and stealing his bride, and Gort/Gruffly died as planned in the fight at Salty Port – the intention is to get the quest back on track in time for Bumpkin to rescue Pleasance from the dragon  - even Thud might get back on Page as his own twin brother in the battle) – the princess meanwhile, is rather taken with Dullard’s swashbuckling (says he learned to test the properties of various armour and weapons he forged in his free time), but is still determined to get away – tells them if they let her go now, it’ll all be okay – they can go back to their old roles and Dullard will have an interesting new sideline in villainy – but Fodder has a better idea – asks Cackle to delay MB and send them the wrong way – just to give them enough time to reach the dragon first – they head into mountains and Dullard turns out to be a brilliant mountaineer (says he learned to study the rock formations) who gets them to the dragon’s cave ahead of the page – they meet Maw the dragon and try to persuade him to eat the Princess on Page…

 

(Dullard isn’t sure about getting the Princess eaten:

“Don’t worry, it’s not like it’d kill her!”

“But being eaten by a dragon – it can’t be easy to put yourself back together after that. Is it even possible?”

“Of course it is. Haven’t you ever wondered why we have the same cow for dinner every Sunday? One of the Duty Pixies pulls it back together and replaces the bits we’ve digested. Simple.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never really had much to do with the livestock. But a person…”

“It’s been done. Why, Shoulders here was eaten by the ravaging Swamp Monster once during an ambush gone wrong. Remember, mate?”

“Sweet Lord, don’t remind me. Do you have any idea how unpleasant it is to sit there and wait to be reconstituted from a pile of Swamp Monster marsh dung?”)

 

 

“Okay. Let’s try this again. You want me to eat her?”

“Yep.”

“On Page?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not going to fight me?”

“Nope, we want you to do it. Aside from anything else, she’s a pain.”

“So, no fighting at all?”

“Nope.”

“No calling me names?”

“What for?”

“No zapping me with spectacular magic?”

“Haven’t got any, mate.”

“And you’re not going to set a Boy of Destiny loose on me with a big sword so I can be killed in an unexpectedly easy manner?”

“Do any of us look like Boys of Destiny to you?”

“So you just want me to eat her?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“But I’m not supposed to succeed! I’m supposed to be thwarted at the last moment!” Sighs “I’m getting a headache.”

“But this time you won’t be thwarted. You can eat her. You win. We surrender.”

“But that’s not much fun. Just eating her… I mean – raw?”

“You can cook her if you like. Firebreathing and all…”

“But eating people is always so messy! The Duty Pixies have to spend hours picking through my leftovers for bits they can recycle in the rebuild! They root through all my waste and everything! And look at her! She’s skin and bones! No meat on her at all! And all that hair will get tangled in my teeth, not to mention the dress – it’d be like eating a curtain!”

 

-but the dragon can’t grasp the concept and thinks the rebuilding afterwards is just too disgusting – MB and Thud are close behind – In the end, Dullard says it wouldn’t really be fair on either of them – the dragon can’t understand and Pleasance didn’t really ask for this – (princess starting to get quite attached to him and is grateful) so Dullard suggests going for the big one – stop the battle – get the Dark Lord to relent and sue for peace!

 

[Part Six is pre battle

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: Part Six

 

Meanwhile the princess refuses to be left behind and, with Zahora’s help, disguises herself and rides into battle. The High Lord of Sleiss is Craxis’ general and he ruthlessly kills the King of Nyolesse – furious, Islaine rides forwards and defeats him in combat, saving the pathetic and outnumbered Tretapus in the process. But greatly outnumbered, all seems lost for the five kingdoms.]

 

As head down, find themselves at battle ground where people are gathering to be kitted out – word has spread and lots of the Disposables and Interchangables are on their side – they run across Froth the Berserker who’s finding all that going mental is giving him headaches and he can’t keep up the pace, and AFCs say they quite fancy not being ploughed down for once and maybe looking a bit less weird – even Thump and Clunny can now see the appeal of being rid of Preen and his shrill orders – Squick is there and relents, fixing Shoulders head back on - and even the Princess is weakening – tentatively says there are parts of her job she could do without – Bumpkin for a start! - he always slobbers so when he kisses her and it might be nice to try kissing someone else – glances at Dullard (who is oblivious and talking armour with an AFC!) – just for a change – work in Flirt and Fodder pairing up too but round up after action - but MB are catching up so they hurry through the Stinking Swamp and the Perilous Gorge to the Dark Citadel and find Doom the Dark Lord.

 

[Part Seven is raiding citadel

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: Part Seven

 

Meanwhile, Erik and his companions have reached Craxis’ citadel where Vagg has arrived with the Ring – they sneak inside with Slynder’s skill but they are discovered – Slynder kills Vagg but not before the Ring is handed on to Craxis. Eldrigon gets between Erik and Craxis and tries to hold him back but is killed. Distraught, Erik lets rip with all the power he has, shattering the Ring on Craxis’ finger and then killing the inhuman monster in combat. When he dies, his minions, built from magic, crumble to dust and the kingdoms are saved.]

 

The Dark Lord, the terror and scourge of so very many stories, was reclining easily in throne of carved jet as he stared in concentration at the ball-on-a-string dangling from the cup in his left hand whilst stroking fluffy white bunny with his right. He flicked it sharply but it missed, catching the wooden rim to dance away once more. As he sighed with resignation at this small failure, Doom glanced up and caught sight of the new arrivals. A broad beaming smile broke out across his face and he beckoned them enthusiastically over.

“All right there!” he proclaimed, his voice a homely, friendly bellow. “How are you folks doing?”

 

Doom is a big, friendly chap and since he’s almost never seen except for a heavily armoured battle at the end, the fact he was a huge, friendly teddy bear of a man didn’t really seem to matter in the job description – what mattered was that he has mastered the art of archaic proclamation, he can swing a sword in wild fury whilst wearing big armour and does a masterly sibilant hiss and deep boom of rage and that was all that he needed to know. His dramatic deaths were also unparalleled. The rest of the time, he plays with his bunnies, organises the Barren Wastelands Amateur Dramatic society and manages the AFC melee team, unbeaten in six tournaments. He immediately appreciates what they are doing but says they seem to be going about it the wrong way. They want to break the quest but they still have the quest in their heads and they’ve being trying to work with it and change it’s direction, not bring it to a halt altogether. Even deaths and peace talks can be written around. If they want real attention, they have to halt the quest in its tracks – Fodder says how – Doom shrugs and says that’s easy – stop playing – he’s learned from doing his plays that the show must go on if it can – but if all the actors sit down and don’t join in, what can they do? Shoulders says but if they just stop on Page, the MB will just kill them – Doom says will they? That would tarnish their noble, on Page image, slaughtering the defenceless – it’s the only way it’ll work – if they do nothing – so as the MB rush in, they all just stop – when Thud (playing twin of Thud) wants to kill them anyway, Pleasance intervenes in princess mode and says will they slaughter the defenceless? Is that what they have become? Stands firm and says they will do no more – they will not do anything and the MB cannot kill them in cold blood – so they’ll just have to sit here and wait on Page until the Taskmaster agrees to listen – finally Page dims to weird half light they’ve never seen before and Strut, the MB official, steps forward and says he has new instructions from the Taskmaster – the MB are to hold while the Page talks – Fodder explains his issues and in Page-Style there is a reply – the Taskmaster agrees it is rather unfair and this new way of looking at the quest is intriguing – likes the inspiration and says wants to start a new quest, their quest, the story of a rebellion of characters so determined that it halted a tale and built a new idea in its place. And that story will be called Fodder….

And end the story by starting an on Page version of the beginning….;p

 

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: Part Eight

 

On returning, Erik finds Islaine is now Queen of Nyolesse and, since genealogy, the prophecy and his unique ability to use the Ring has proved that his ancestor was Avikhelion, making him the rightful king of the Six Kingdoms, he is crowned High King of all the lands. Myhessia, freed from her duty, marries Sir Roderick and Halheid, who turned the tide of battle with his brave charge, marries Zahora. Astonishingly, at Erik’s coronation, Eldrigon’s ghost appears and blesses him with a long and glorious reign. Their first son is names Eldrigort in honour of those who gave their lives.

 

And they lived happily ever after….]

Fodder Story Plan - The Original Notes Part One

 In honour of the release of The Taskmaster, the final book of my *ahem* "trilogy" the Plot Bandits, I'm offering up a little behind the scenes treat - my original story plan for a single book (believe it or not) called Fodder which was typed up circa 2007/2008 from even more original notes I'd scribbled in a recently rediscovered notebook. It offers some insight into how this beast started, which ideas were there in some form or another right from the start, which never made the final cut and which ideas, by their absence, can be shown to have invaded my brain and shot me off in a new direction at a later date. It was definitely a case of life imitating art in the writing of this - the characters completely took over in the middle! Because I'm aware people may not have finished reading The Taskmaster yet (honestly, what's wrong with you? ;p) I'm going to release this frankly massive haul of notes in two parts, saving the potentially spoilery final sections until next month's blog. I hope you find it interesting. :)

Fodder Basic StoryPlan 

(Taskmaster Summary Part Three)

-Opening massacre and pick selves up after –

If there was one particular word that could be used todescribe Fodder of Humble Village, it was ordinary. His face was ordinary. Hisnose was neither hooked nor pointed, not snub or aquiline, neither especiallybig or notably small. His hair was brown – no fiery reds or midnight blacks forhim – and his eyes were just the same. He was neither fat nor particularlythin, no weakling but hardly of god-like physique, no towering giant but notnotably on the short side. He was an ordinary man on an ordinary day, dressedin rusty, badly fitting armour as he waited on a lonely road for the chance toget on with his job.

  He could see thedust rising on the track ahead, the surge of brilliant, impossibly vivid lightthat cut into the ordinary, straightforward everyday grey of normal life andindicated to his companions to make ready. He gripped his spear more tightlyand adjusted the rough leather jerkin beneath his mail as he exchanged brief,weary looks with his companions; Shoulders, unshaven and rubbing at his neckwith a vague hint of resignation, burly Thump with the pet cudgel he’d named Ronaldand stick-thin Clunny, with awkward manner and perennial fidget.

  He sighed.

  “Well,” he said witha simple shrug. “Here we go again.”

INTO ITALICS FIGHT (SEE HANDWRITTEN NOTES FOR FIRST SECTION)

MB arrive, guards order them to stop – exaggerateddescriptions (weasel-like, huge and beard, scruffy and miserable looking and“lead guard”) – the fight kicks off, MB win and ride away.

 - silence – bodies –then a gurgling from a muddy puddle – Fodder, with spear through his chest,sits up and sighs. Shoulders’ decapitated body staggers to its feet andmeanders over to the puddle and lifts his head out, wiping off the mud.

“Every time! Every bloody time! He doesn’t have to hit it sodamned far, it does it on purpose, I swear he does! If he had a sense ofhumour, I’d think he was trying to be funny!” He holds up the head and moves itfrom side to side so he can glance around. “Where’s Squick? He should be hereby now!”

 Fodder pulls thespear out and stand up, remarks that Squick will be here soon enough and they’dbetter have all their bits ready to be reattached. And there’s no point inmoaning about Clank, he’s just doing his job. Flying heads is his trademark…Shoulders makes a raspberry sound made highly unpleasant by his still detachedhead. “Right. Doing his job.” Angles his head down to look at torso and sighswith plaintive irritation. “Has anyone seen my entrails?”

Fodder finds himself thinking he’s got a point – why arethey always the ones fishing their entrails out of bushes and searching formissing limbs while Clank, Bumpkin and the rest of the Merry Band lord it overeveryone? But thought interrupted as Squick arrives to fix them and they alltroop off to the pub in Humble Village (The ArchetypalInn? Never know what it will be like – one day a veranda and taproom and apainting of a rose, the next filthy and squalid with a giant fireplace and abroken sign – it’s redecorated between Pages)– there Bard the Minstrel isreciting a stylised version of the story so far which gets heckled from alldirections –

[Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: PartOne

In which:

We meet our hero, young Erik, an ordinary young stable ladwho looks after the horses in his Uncle Alwin’s remote inn in the hill kingdomof Doss, and occasionally sneaks out to visit a friendly, mysterious andeccentric old man called Elder who lives in a crumbling tower in the woodsbehind the village and seems to know of many strange things and distant landsthat fuels Erik’s longing for adventure. But one day, a group of ill-matchedand mysterious strangers ride into the inn in desperate search of a manmatching Elder’s description – Erik hears them speak of a mysterious theftbefore he is caught eavesdropping and redeems himself by offering to lead themto Elder.

  Elder introduces themen to him. The first is Sir Roderick, first knight of the Kingdom of Nyolesseand legendary for both his skill and for his tragic love of a mysterious womanhe could never have. The second is Slynder, a thief renowned for his skillthroughout six kingdoms. The third is Halheid, a gruff barbarian from thenorthern reaches, brutish, uncivilised and quick to anger. Fourth is Zahora, aquick-tempered warrior woman who dislikes Halheid for his attitude that onlymen should fight. And finally there is Gort, a dwarf miner with an unexplainedhatred of Slynder.

  They tell Elder thatthey have something important to tell him and Erik is sent from the room, butfrom listening at the door he learns that something has been stolen and thatsomeone called Myhessia is pleading for his aid because the age-old prophecy madeby the Seeress Mydrella will soon be fulfilled. Elder agrees to come and whenErik bursts in and pleads to come, Elder looks at him oddly and agrees, overthe protests of the others who feel he will be in the way. They head back tothe inn to tell his uncle only to find it has shockingly been set on fire andhis uncle’s body nailed to the wall. Mysterious, deformed creatures surround them and Erik in his fury slaysseveral with a skill he never knew he had and drives the rest away with astrange force that seems to emminate from his body. The band leave, taking onlyErik’s loyal, favourite horse which fortuitously survived the fire and ride offtowards the mountains.

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: PartTwo

On the way to the mountains, they encounter a party sent bythe King Cyrus of Nyolesse, lead by an official named Frein, telling SirRoderick he must return for the wedding of Princess Islaine to Prince Tretaptusof Mond is fast approaching and he is needed to protect her against threatsmade by the bitter High Lord of Sleiss over being rejected as her suitor. WhenSir Roderick says his current task is more important, Frein says he will returnor be dragged back and they are forced to beat the soldiers away. They are alsofollowed by the strange, deformed monsters from the inn, who Halheid tells themhave been slinking through his kingdom out of the wastes to the north where,legend has it, an ancient, evil warlord once vanished thousands of years beforeand where Mydrella’s ancient prophecy states “great evil will rise again”.

 After days oftravelling, passing via the friendly capital city where Elder was treated withunexpected respect by the King of Doss, Gregor, they arrive at a spectacularentry to a temple carved out of a cave. This, Erik learns, is the Temple of Anthiphion. Anthiphion was a great kingwho united the six kingdoms against an enemy from across the sea and, using amagical Ring fashioned for him by the legendary sorcerer Eldrigon that made himunbeatable in battle, saved them all. He decried that the Ring would only workfor those of his blood and gave it to his noble younger son Avikhelion, for hisolder brother Craxis was cruel and malicious. But Craxis stole the Ring, killedhis brother and tried to take over, only thwarted by Eldrigon and his daughterMyhessia, who reclaimed the Ring by means of a trick and drove Craxis back intothe Northern wastes. But he had discovered evil magics and vowed to liveforever, return and rule and to kill his brother’s infant son, the only otherpossible Ring bearer and so, legend said, Myhessia took the ring and hid it ina Temple of stone, carved by dwarves and guarded by female descendants ofAvikhelion’s female bodyguard, tying herself into the stone itself to protect it.Eldrigon took the infant boy and hid him far away from his evil uncle and somesaid he protected him still for Mydrella’s prophecy proclaimed that he and healone would be able to defeat the great Evil and unite the six kingdoms as one.

  At the temple, Eriklearns that it is the Ring that has been stolen and is astonished when his oldfriend is addressed as Father by the mysterious, eternally youthful andbeautiful sorceress Myhessia – he is indeed the legendary Eldrigon. He alsodiscovers the connection of the others – Zahora is chief of the female guards,Gort is one of the dwarves who maintains the Temple, Halheid is part of theforce from the north set to patrol the surrounding mountains and has reportedstrange and evil creatures moving in the Northern wastes and Slynder once triedto steal the Ring for the challenge and was brought in to see how it was done.As for Sir Roderick, it soon becomes painfully clear that his forlorn andtragic love is for Myhessia and she returns it, but they cannot be together forneither can abandon their duties. It was only news that she had been hurt thatdrove him to defy his king and join the search for aid.

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: PartThree

Elder and the band agree to follow to trail of the stolenRing and Erik finds that for some reason, he can intuit which way it went. Asthey follow the trail, local guards attempt to apprehend them but are tossedaside. But then, while crossing a mountain pass they hear screams and ride upto find men in the livery of Sleiss [Fodder and co – this is the point atwhich things go wrong] attempting to abduct Princess Islaine who is ridingto Mond for her wedding. With the princess rescued but her guard dead, SirRoderick feels he must see her back to the palace and since the Ring trail goesin a similar direction and they need to speak to the king about shoring up theborders against the possible return of Craxis, Elder agrees to the detour. Theprincess and Erik argue incessantly as she tries to push him around and by thetime they reach the palace, they hate each other. ]

Fodder expresses his opinions on the futility of it all (asreads Part Three Summary just handed round?) and how the Merry Band get all theglory while they just get their heads chopped off – most of the Disposables saythat’s life and such but Flirt is on his side – says she’s sick of being ageneric, pump up the bosom and change the hair colour barmaid – she wants to bea warrior woman! (when there’s a big final battle, everyone including the womenjoin in dressed as ordinary extra soldiers in armour – but Flirt loves it!)– (remarkof Flirt that she only ever has to change her hair colour – doesn’t anyonenotice it’s always the same girl? Flirt retorts since when does the barmaid getdescribed as anything other than a hair colour and a bust?) - most people laughbut Fodder says why shouldn’t she? Why should this be their lot in life? Whyshould the Taskmaster get to decide how they should live their lives? Whatwould happen if they just decided to do things their own way instead? Shouldersjoins in the moan – says they should just do it- but shuts up quickly as Preenarrives to hand out assignments – they are to try and kidnap Princess dressedin Sleiss livery (Preen hands it to them– all set out but Fodder’s mind isstill on his thoughts and when ambush starts, he breaks with the schedule bykilling Thud the barbarian and succeeding in making off with the princess (defyingthe page very difficult – perhaps Page events interspersed with Fodder’sthoughts – can’t think straight, like wading through treacle but some part ofhim finds the strength to rebel – lulls you into a kind of stupor and findyourself doing exactly what the words on the schedule said) – Shoulders ishorrified – Fodder points out he supported him in the pub but Shoulders repliesthat was in theory! In practice this is a disaster – they’ve broken with theschedule! They’ve ruined the plan! They’ve killed a character on page who wassupposed to live and kidnapped a princess who wasn’t supposed to be kidnapped!What are they going to do? Fodder says keep doing it! They head back to thepub, Shoulders moaning all the way and saying maybe if they just gave her back,they’d be okay – find Flirt, she’s thrilled by what they’ve done and eager tohelp – but then hear Preen and Thud screaming for them and make a run for it –realise the Page is following them – ambushed in woods by unprepared lookingother Disposables who admit that Preen sent them to put the quest right (haveto keep them there until MB and Page can catch up) – Fodder tries to get themto join him but they can’t accept it.

 

Fodder sighed. Thump had his armour on back to front andClunny’s axe was clutched rather perilously upside down. It was obvious thatthey had been rushed and hurried into position.

 Fodder raised hisarms “Now boys…”

Thump was shaking his head. “Sorry Fodder mate, I really am.But Preen came by with an emergency schedule just now and he said…”

“Preen said, Preen said!” Flirt erupted sharply. “When willyou lot realise that you don’t have to do what Preen says? We aren’t!”

Thump and Clunny exchanged uncertain looks. “But… theTaskmaster…”

“Forget the Taskmaster!” Fodder tried to ignore the looks ofdesperate horror that crossed the faces of his fellow Disposables at suchblasphemy. “We don’t have to do what the Taskmaster says any more! If we did,we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“I’ll bloody say,” Shoulders muttered, as he rested hiselbow on the head of the infuriated princess. “Look Fodder, you’ve made yourpoint. Why don’t we just go home?”

 

Outwit Thump and Clunny and escape – Fodder says they haveto get away from the Page – head up to the mountain trapping station and try toget trappers to help them hide, but they are a conservative bunch who insistthey don’t want trouble – outside they run across Cringe who is rattling aroundwith the ring before he has to head down to the Salty Port for his big fight –they think as a principal, he might turn them in but he sympathises – says itsalways the same – he sets minions on them, he lurks a bit, then he dies in ahumiliating manner, usually at the hand of a comedy character. Tells themthey’re asking for trouble keeping the princess though! Says if they reallywant to disrupt the quest, he’ll give them the Ring of Destiny… Shoulders wantsno more of it, says the princess is enough trouble, but Flirt takes it andhangs it round her neck, gleam in her eye as she says they’ll have to fight herfor it! Cringe wishes them good luck and also suggests why not take theprincess to Grim, the Dark General – after all, the quest is that he wants tomarry her – why not let him? He’s just hanging about in the Grim Fortress,being hearsay – he’d be glad of something to do.

 They head up to theGrim Citadel and with the protesting princess in tow and find Grim, the DarkGeneral being bored and waiting for the Final Battle – he likes the idea ofdisrupting the quest – he’s tired of being hearsay and then dying in battle,it’s getting repetitive – but as trying to rustle up a priest’s uniform forShoulders – Grim receives new instructions – the Page and MB are coming and aregoing to nobly rescue her – Grim suggests they take her and run – says he can’tdefy the Page when on it, it’s like wading through treacle and he hasn’t thestrength– still doesn’t know how Fodder managed it – the quest is stillsalvageable, they have to try harder! After a narrow escape, Shoulders declareshe knows how to disrupt the quest – get Pleasance killed on Page – Bumpkin’sinevitable romantic subplot would be shot! Pleasance is fuming, says she can’tdie on Page, she’s never died, it’s undignified! Fodder and Flirt reckon itmight be worth a try, head up to try and see where Page is – Princess kneesShoulders and manages to get away and heads for the palace to try and get the questback on track…

 

[Part Four at Palace

Official Taskmaster Summary: The Ring of Anthiphion: PartFour

 

At the palace, they are greeted royally by the King andQueen and then by Prince Tretaptus who has ridden in from Mond and agrees tohave the wedding here. Islaine hates Tretaptus, who is pompous and arrogant andwhen the band leave, she hides away in their party. They leave quickly at newsthat the Northern Wastes are crawling with creatures who claim that Craxis is comingjust as the prophecy of Mydrella foresaw and that they will be defeated – asthey go, the King, Prince Tretaptus and Halheid’s cousin, the King of Sverdinare massing their forces to defend themselves. The trail goes to the wild port of Saltania where they encounter the thieftrying to book passage up the Great Inlet to the Northern Wastes – it’s theHigh Lord of Sleiss’s brother Vagg! He has evil creatures at his command andhis brother has given Sleiss, Sverdin’s neighbour, over to Craxis. He attacks themand Gort the dwarf is killed, taking a creature’s axe for Erik. Erik,infuriated, takes him on but rather than fight, he flees into the mountains,saying that Craxis will rise and his brother will have Islaine, it has beenpromised! ]

 

– they pursue but she’s already got back to the King andQueen in the palace (Queen turns into a gutter mouthed chav off Page!)– sneakinside through the garderobe and find themselves in Prince Dullard’s rooms – herealises who they are is eager to help – he’s sick and tired of bested,humiliated, running like a coward and killed in battle – he wants the chance tobe interesting! Manages to lure Pleasance to his rooms and they smuggle her outof the palace minutes before the MB arrive! (princess ask how they got in,Fodder explains they climbed up the loo, Pleasance says a hero would never dothat, Fodder says he thinks they’ve established he’s not a hero!) Dullard isclever, if geeky, (very, very talented at things but doesn’t think he isbecause he learned them for geeky reasons) and likes their idea of her gettingkilled on Page and suggests talking to Poniard the assassin, who’s in the cityand try and persuade him to take Pleasance onto Page and kill her – but he’sdepressed, says what’s the use? He’s a skilled killing professional in a worldwhere no one can die of anything but old age! Bloody Duty Pixies fix every finepiece of work he does without a scratch! Why kill her, she’ll just come back tolife again once the Page has gone, it makes no difference – no one he killsstays dead, it reflects so badly on his work! Fodder and co leave the moroseassassin but Dullard has another suggestion – why not get a ship from Salty Portand just sail off the edge of the map? They head to Salty Port and Reel theSeadog is open to the idea but then Thud arrives leading a horde of Disposablesfrom all over and Cringe’s AFCs (Assorted Freakish Creatures) who pursue themand try to corner them so that MB can catch up and deal with them on Page – butAFCs are actually a friendly bunch (although never know which one talking tosince look difference every time you see them – friendly jobsworths) and theyreally don’t like being ordered around by Thud who treats them like he does onPage– “accidentally” let them go – and manage to fight their way out on Page –Flirt manages to defy the Page (finds it exhilarating) as does Dullard butShoulder falters and Clank chops his head off – but his body falls off Page andDullard is able to pick his head up on Page and escape!

 

And that's just what became The Disposable folks - more to come next month!

The Taskmaster is Unleashed! :)

 

Announcing the arrival of the fourth and final book in mypoorly named debut fantasy satire “trilogy” The Plot Bandits – The Taskmaster!

 

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BZBW5DKF

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZBW5DKF

 

The Perfect StorybookEnding?

Just as Pleasance gets a grip . . .

Just as Dullard realises the truth . . .

Just as Flirt and Shoulders get ahead . . .

Just as Fodder exploits literary convention . . .

Just as Ordinary people actually start to listen . . .

Just as readers begin to feel tantalised by the blurb . . .

Wait.

You didn’t think we were about to spoil the ending for you, didyou? This is the fourth and final book of the Plot Bandits “trilogy”! We’resaying nothing.

https://www.facebook.com/LadyKatherineVick/

 

And for those of you who’d like to start at the beginning,the first novel, The Disposable can be found here:

 

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Disposable-1-Plot-Bandits/dp/1951471024

USA: https://www.amazon.com/Disposable-1-Plot-Bandits/dp/1951471024

 

Its sequel, The Merry Band can be found here:

 

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Merry-Band-Katherine-Vick/dp/1951471083

US: https://www.amazon.com/Merry-Band-Katherine-Vick/dp/1951471083

 

And continuing with book three, The Narrative:

 

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Narrative-Plot.../dp/B0BGSGN9ZF

US: https://www.amazon.com/Narrative-Plot.../dp/B0BGSGN9ZF

 

A Glimpse of The Taskmaster

In honour of three weeks to go until the release on Amazon of my final Plot Bandits novel, The Taskmaster, I thought I would offer up a little glimpse of what is to come by presenting an extract from the book itself! I hope it whets the appetite a bit. :)

---------------------------------

Her gaze quickly raked the ranksof the men left behind. Most looked nervous. Some looked angry. Many lookedshocked. But none looked particularly inclined to be the first to step up andlead the charge in Sentinel’s place. Flirt fought not to punch the air. It wasworking! Facing a choice between their orders and the fundamental rules oftheir life—they were hesitating. They were thinking! And once the thinking hadstarted…

“You!” Preen’s harsh exclamationcut into her thoughts—she glanced up to find that he had wheeled dramaticallyon Midlin, march­ing up to his bland-faced new field captain with fire in his eyes.“You do it then! Get some men and attack them!”

But Midlin was staring at him.Midlin the obedient, Midlin the unimaginative, Midlin who lived and breathedorders from a higher power, was making no move to obey. His chin was tremblingslightly.

“Is it in the instructions?” hesaid desperately.

Preen blinked. “What?”

Midlin’s hands were starting toshake as well. “The instructions…” he managed, his monotone voicesuddenly wavering. “Theinstructions must be obeyed.”

Preen manically rolled his eyes.“I’m giving you instructions, you ridiculous man! Get some men and attackthem!”

“But…”Midlin’s face contortedpainfully. “But you don’t have the book. Instructions comefrom the book. And if you don’t have the book…”His lips quivered. “How do you know what the instructions would say?”

Preen exploded. “I just do!”

“But…but the First Rule!” Midlin’swords stammered out of blood-drained features. Sweat pooled on his brow. “Theinstructions always follow the First Rule and…ack!”

Preen lunged like a cobra. Longfingers clamped around the front of Midlin’s mail shirt and, fuelled by thestrength of frustrated rage, he hauled the Disposable up onto tiptoes and shookhim like a ragdoll.

“Will! You! Just! Do! As! I! Say!!!”he roared into Midlin’s bland face, punctuating each word with a violent shake.Even as the Disposa­ble stared at him in bewildered horror, Preen flexed hiswrists and hurled his victim down into a heap on the grass, stalking forwardwith fists clenched as he towered like a beanpole over the hunched, shad­owedfigure before him.

“Enough of this firstrule!” he screeched. “Enough questions! Enough disobedience!”One hand lashed out, grasping the now terri­fied-looking Midlin and dragginghim onto his knees. “You will get to your feet!” With another yank,Midlin was forced to stagger upright. “You will fetch somemen!” Hauling the Disposable by the armpit, Preen strode across the grass withMidlin stumbling in his wake. Ahead, the massed ranks of the Disposablesrippled backwards like a breath of wind in an effort to subtly retreat from hispath, but Preen was clearly in no mood to be merciful—he tore into the frontrank, snatching and shoving as one after another, bemused armoured figures werethrust tumbling forwards. “And now!” Preen’s voice slashed throughthe air like a saw-edged blade. “You will damned well attack themor you will share their damnable fate!” His manic eyes swung from one startledface to the next, his jaw clenched and his face twisted as his voice rocketedup several octaves. “Now!”

The small, befuddled clutch of adozen or so men exchanged wary looks with each other. Flirt could see themrolling the choices over in their minds—did they attack a band that theyoutnumbered, though not by much, and risk the wrath of the First Rule? Or didthey disobey the incandescently furious form of Preen, who looked about readyto rip them into tiny pieces with his fingernails?

Tough choice, lads …

And it was time to make ittougher. “Stay back, boys,” Flirt called to her Disposable companions, drawing herbeautiful and significantly heroic-looking sword from its sheath. “If theycome, I’ll take them alone.”

Ouch. The stricken looks onthose poor lads’ faces were actually painful to behold. But Donk was right. Oneman—or woman—holding a lone defence with a very shiny sword meant nobody wanted to go first.

But behind them, there wasPreen, panting like a rabid dog and looking fully prepared to rip out theirlivers and eat them. Slowly, and with undisguised reluctance, Midlin and hisunfortunate troop began to edge their way forwards.

Flirt didn’t edge. Flirtstrutted. Flirt sauntered. Flirt worked her wrist so that her sword arched incasual circles in front of her as she closed towards them, playing every inchthe Narrative threat.

Fight or flight, boys, fight or flight …

She knew she should want them toflee. Running would mean a snap of Preen’s control, a break from hisever-tenuous command and her chance to step in. But at the same time…she hadn’t had a decent scrap in a littlewhile, and with her shocking lapse and head wound from last night, she wantedto be sure she was back up to speed.

But which way would they jump?Which way would it…

“Will you get on with it?”

And as though the screech ofPreen’s voice had galvanised his very blood, one of the reluctant Disposableshefted his short sword above his head and, with a desperate, high-pitched,almost plaintive screech, he charged.

With a simple flourish, Flirtdeflected his down-swinging blade, ducking aside as she pushed the blow aside.She caught a glimpse of his pale, wretched face, sweat-stained and miserable ashe brought his sword back up for a fresh assault, but Flirt had alreadyanticipated the move, slashing the blade away as her foot rose with awell-aimed, upwards knee strike. As her opponent whimpered, she shoved him intoa heap on the ground and turned.

And her next attacker was there.Spurred on by the brave stupi­dity of his comrade, the bulky figure of aGarrison soldier had lowered his halberd and stormed at her like a charging bull.Flirt sidestepped the move, knocking the blade down as she extended her footand sent the soldier tumbling head over heels. Ignoring the jarring pain in herknee that resulted, she brought up her sword quickly to catch the descendingaxe of a tatty City Watchman, a sweaty, unshaven figure who pressed down hardas he fought to use his strength to buckle her. A frantic, half-toothed,halitosis-riddled grin flashed across his face.

“You know!” he gasped outloudly. “I like a girl with—”

Flirt’s teeth gritted. “You eventhink about saying spirit, arse-wipe, and I’ll rip off your ears andmake you swallow them!”

She thrust upwards, slammingboth axe and sword blade into the Watchman’s chin. He staggered, reelingbackwards, and slumped to the ground. Several more of his teeth lay scatteredin the grass beside him.

Sword clenched in her fist andtrying to ignore the painful throb of her healing head, Flirt turned as amail-clad Buccaneer stumbled for­wards uncomfortably, his moustached faceriddled with disconcer­tion as he struggled to work with a sword so unlike hisfamiliar cutlass. He started to charge and…

“Wait, wait! Stop! Stop it!”

The Buccaneer staggered to ahalt. And Flirt stared.

What the …?

For Preen it was who had shouted—Preen,who had harangued and bullied them into making this attack, who had suddenlyscreamed it to a halt. He was staring at the cluster of eight or nine remainingDisposa­bles with an incredulous look on his face.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed,his voice rich in disbelief.

Midlin and his remaining menexchanged a series of uncertain glances.

“Ummm…”one of the remaining Garrison soldiers ventured. “Attacking her? Like you told us to?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Preen wavedaway this statement of the obvious with one dismissive hand. “But I meant youshould rush her together and butcher her as one! Why, why, for pity’ssake, do you insist on running in to get slaughtered one at a time?”

“Well.” The Garrison man glancedaround at his companions for support but all of them, including Midlin, hadsuddenly discovered an intense fascination with their shoes. “Because of the SecondRule?”

Preen’s expression, such as itwas possible to interpret the range of twisting emotions that arched across hisfeatures, could best be described as dangerous.

“Second Rule?” he drawled darkly.

“Yeah.” The unfortunate Garrisonman swallowed hard at the black menace in the Courtier’s eyes. “You know? Whena superior force attacks a lesser band, they…” His voice faltered under the onslaughtof Preen’s glare but bravely,or perhaps foolishly, he ploughed on through his sentence. “They…theymust…always attack…one…one at…oneat a time?”

Preen stared at him. His eyesflicked around the range of nodding heads and thoughtful expressions andslowly, but very noticeably, they bulged in their sockets.

“What…” he said, his voice a very distinct and verydesperate whisper, “…is the matter withyou people?”