Thaddeus Nowak's Blog: Thoughts and Observations, page 19

Owin #17 — A dark room for the night

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin led Gwen through Rhyl’s streets. The sun would not even give hint of life for several turns of the glass and his limbs ached with fatigue. The ache had less to do with physical exertion than fear of possible loss, but it left exhaustion nonetheless.

He could feel Gwen’s panic and knew the girl blamed herself for what happened. But really, this is my fault, I encouraged her too much. He wished Gavin still lived. Her father would not likely have raised her much differently, but then it wouldn’t all be my fault.

Owin led Gwen into the abandoned building he had used most recently after his robbery of the warehouse. A few animals scurried away at their approach, but it appeared there were no people present.

“I am so sorry, Owin. Please forgive me,” Gwen said in the dark. Her voice carried fear, but not the sound of tears.

Owin would not risk lighting a candle even if he had one. Instead, he felt the floor, searching for the familiar clearing among the debris. Carefully, he helped Gwen sit down and then sat next to her. “It’s not your fault.”  He admired her strength of will in not breaking down.

“No Owin, it is. I knew what I was doing. I knew the risks. I just never thought Mother and Grandma would pay for it.”

He put his arm around her and she fell against his side. “Gina has been a friend for a while. Back in the old days, she worked in the temples mixing ointments and potions. She’s not a priestess, but she has friends there. If anyone can get Elsin healed without raising too many questions, it will be Gina.”

“She was furious with you.”

Owin nodded his head, though neither of them could see the motion. “That will blow over.” He sighed. “However, Lord Darro’s anger won’t. Your mother will be safe for a while, as long as she stays with Gina. However, there will be people looking for you. They know who you are and where you lived. They have my name and a good description of me.  Mentioned to the right people, they will know where to look for me.  Which means, we’ll have trouble if we are seen on the streets. The city guard as well as more criminal elements will be looking for us.”

He heard Gwen sniffle. “What can we do?”

“In the morning, we’ll cut your hair and I’ll find you some men’s cloths. They’ll be looking for an older guy and a young woman.”

“You’ll turn me into a man so they won’t recognize me.” He heard her swallow. “They’d give me a public flogging if they found me pretending to be a man.”

Owin nodded his head, amused she would worry about that instead of being hanged for murder and robbery.  He knew she understood the real risk, but neither of them would voice it. “We’ll just make sure you know how to act like a man then.”

They sat there in silence through the rest of the night while he tried to calculate how long it would take Mark and his boy Simon to realize their threats against Elsin and Gwen were compromised. Without that leverage, they had no means to hold Owin in Rhyl and that would make them more desperate. I’ve got only a short time to find enough money to get us out of the city before things get very bad.

 

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Owin #16 — A place to stay?

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin carried Elsin’s unconscious body for several blocks and then he had stop.

“Gwen, my arms are falling off. I can’t keep this up.”  Wiping away sweat from his brow, he looked up into Gwen’s face. Though the darkness hid her eyes, her frozen posture spoke of her fear. “I’m not giving up, but I just can’t carry her this way.” He accepted the slow nod of Gwen’s head as proof she was listening to him.

Shaking out his arms, he stood over Elsin’s body. His lower back and even his neck ached from the effort. Elsin weighed fairly little, but with all of her weight in front of him, it put him off-balance.

Pulling a dagger from his belt, he quickly made a hole in the bottom of his shirt and then ripped it around his body to pull off a strip.

“Where are we going?” Gwen asked softly. “Is it at least close?”

Owin shook his head. “Not close enough.” Bending down, he used the torn ends of the towel wrapped around Elsin’s broken arm to tie it to the strip of his shirt. “I need to get her on my shoulders, but I can hold her there with her right arm and I don’t want to have it bouncing around behind me. Once I get her up, I’ll need you to tie the loose end up to keep her arm supported.”

Gwen immediately set down the lamp and the bundle of things she had gathered into the old blanket. Owin took a deep breath and then squatted down. He carefully rolled Elsin onto her right side and then turned around with her left wrist still in his hand. Reaching back, he grabbed Elsin’s leg and pulled her up onto his shoulders. Gwen helped him adjust her mother’s position as Owin stood.

Wasting no time, Gwen moved around Owin, carefully raising her mother’s broken arm, and then wrapped the loose end of the cloth around Owin’s left arm.

With a nodded of his head, Gwen gathered her things as they resumed their flight through the darkened city streets.  They kept to the back alleys and were forced into longer routes to avoid the notice of guards or other people. After quite a long time, Owin finally came to a stop in front of Gina’s shop.

“The lady that owns this shop is a friend, but I’d rather not make a lot of noise trying to wake her.” He motioned Gwen closer. “Take your mother’s arm.” When Gwen moved it out of Owin’s way, he slow squatted down and set Elsin on the ground. “Keep an eye on her,” he said, as he headed back toward the door. While he did not have his normal tools, he had seen Gina’s lock enough times to know he could get it open fairly easily. With the proper tools, Owin could open just about any lock, but with only his dagger and the broken end of a comb made from carved bone, it took him quite a while to work the mechanism. At least I know Gina doesn’t have a bar she places over the door, he mused as he forced the lock open. Those almost always send me through a window.

Cracking open the door, he peered inside the dark room. Comfortable no one waited for him, he went back to the street and carefully lifted Elsin into his arms. They were tired, but the front carry made it easier to protect her arm. Going back up the steps and into the building, he heard the floor squeak under their combined weight. As tired as he was, he could not help the noise. Behind him, he heard Gwen shut the door, her footfalls across the floor light and quiet.

Without his asking, Gwen turned up the lamp, providing just a bit more light, but it was enough to keep him from tripping over the furniture. Quiet as he could, he moved Elsin to the back of the room and set her down on a rug that Gina used to cover part of the floor.

Breathing deeply, he wiped his brow again and sat back on his heels. He needed to wake Gina without scaring her. Getting to his feet, he motioned for Gwen to remain next to her mother and then went to the door in the back wall. He knocked softly. “Gina, it’s me, Owin.” He knocked again. “Gina?”

After a moment, he heard the sounds of someone descending down stairs. Raising his voice a little more, he spoke again. “Gina, it’s me, Owin. I need your help.”

After a moment more, the door he stood in front of opened. Gina’s old form stood there dressed in a robe; a loaded crossbow point at him. The heavy weapon looked out of place in her hands.

“Gina, I had nowhere else I could think to go. Elsin’s been hurt badly and now Gwen and I are wanted by Lord Darro.”

Gina narrowed her eyes for a moment, glancing once toward Gwen and then back to Owin. She bit her lip and then lowered the crossbow. “I do not appreciate you breaking into my home, Owin.” His name added after enough pause that Owin had no trouble comprehending her mood.

“Elsin’s arm’s broken and they hit her on the head. I can’t wake her.” He swallowed. “I didn’t want to bang on your door and wake the whole neighborhood.”

Gina moved across the room and knelt beside Elsin. Setting aside the crossbow, but leaving it in easy reach, she checked the unconscious woman and then sighed. “I don’t think I can do anything for her. You need a priest.”

“I can’t afford one. And it’s possible Darro’s men will have reported my breaking Gwen free of his manor house. I think at least one of his guards is dead and possibly another one.”

Gina shook her head. “Owin, what make you think to attack Darro?”

“It’s my fault, ma’am,” Gwen said, her hands twisted in her skirt. “I stole a spoon. I thought I could get away with it.”

Gina glanced to Gwen and then back to Owin. “You’re a bad influence.”

“It wasn’t him. I…I couldn’t end up like my mother…what she goes through every day.” Gwen closed her eyes as tears started to fall. “Now Grandma is dead and so might my mother be.”

Gina stood up. “Quiet, girl. I don’t need to listen to your self-pity. Grow up.”

Gina turned back to Owin and crossed the room to stand before him. “Those things you asked me to hold. You give them to me, I can arrange to have someone from the temple come by and heal Elsin.”

“Done.”

“But you and Gwen need to leave. I’ll say Elsin’s a niece that fell, but I don’t need to have to explain your presence.”

Owin nodded his head. “I can find us a place to stay. But you can’t let Elsin go home. There will be–”

“I’m not a fool and once I explain things to her, I hope she’ll see reason.” Gina went back and picked up the crossbow from the floor. “I have to change and go to the temple; the two of you can see yourselves out. Don’t come back for at least a week.”

Gwen stepped forward. “This is my mother’s lamp. She’ll want to know it is safe.”

“Fine, put it on the table and go.” Gina turned and then turned back to Owin. “Don’t ever break into my home again.”

Owin nodded his head. He carried hope that Gina would get over her anger soon. Their history was too long for this one event to ruin it, but he knew she would need time to get over the intrusion.

 

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Writing: I want to die!

That is not what most people will say on most days of their lives.  So why is it that I see far too often a group of “bad guys” willingly fighting to the death when they have other options?

A few weeks ago I talked about the value of a bad movie and how you should take away lessons for writing from the time that would otherwise be wasted.  Here is a second lesson I wanted to impart from that thread:

The bad guys don’t want to die!

I don’t believe the villains in the real world want to die any more than anyone else.  In fact, I would argue they might want to live even more than the “good guys”.

In looking at any character, we really need to examine their motivations.  One common attribute I often see in villains is greed.  I see it in the real world when I read news stories about people I find I don’t really like.  They tend to have a willingness to take advantage of those in vulnerable positions, possibly causing significant harm in the process.  They usually desire power (or money as a means to power).  They might defend their own friends and family, possibly even to the death, but what I can’t see is an army of “bad guys” charging into a hailstorm of bullets, watching their comrades dropping dead all around them, and still chasing after what amounts to money.  After all, you can’t spend it when you are dead.

If I was a villain, I’d back off (perhaps letting a comrade who pissed me off die so I could escape) and then come back and do harm to the “good guy” when they were more vulnerable.  Some might call it cowardly behavior, but it makes valid sense.  What motivation do I have to die in the pursuit of money that I could come back later to get safely.

For heroes, the motivation is often one of protecting someone or some ideal they care deeply about.  For the villain, they tend to care more about themselves than others, so they would naturally protect themselves.

I will grant that anyone backed into a corner would have plenty of motivation to fight to the death.  If you have no other options and/or no hope left in life, that behavior is something I can see.  I can see being driven by fear of something worse than a quick death (such as a sociopath leader for example).  However, I don’t see charging to a certain death as valid for someone who normally would never face their foes in an open and equal manner.

To me, if the story needs a fight to the death, the protagonist is stronger when they pursue the villain and corners them (forcing a surrender or death) or the protagonist leads the villain into a trap though cunning and guile, killing them to make certain they can’t come back later when the hero is vulnerable.  I am less impressed when the villains continue to march forward to their death as if their feet were fixed to a conveyor belt and the hero is merely removing foes as if they worked an assembly line.  When escape and safety is a valid option, I feel the villain should take it.

 

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Owin #15 — The darkened kitchen

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin led Gwen around the outside of the large line of estates. He moved quickly and Gwen had to jog to keep up. He did not use the primary street that passed in front of Lord Darro’s estate, but when he turned down a lane that led back toward the estate, Gwen tugged on his shirt, slowing him to a stop.

“Aren’t we going home?” she asked as she panted slightly from the running.

“I need my weapons and I left your silver hidden down this alley,” he replied.

“But they might have people out looking for us.”

Owin nodded his head, having kept a close awareness for any groups of people who had the appearance of soldiers since they left the back of the estate. He started moving again, pulling Gwen up to jog beside him. “They know where your mother lives. When they held me in a room for a while, one of the men came back and reported having been to your house. I really don’t know what we’ll find there.”

Even in the limited light provided by the scattering of lamps, he could see Gwen’s wide eyes. “My house? Mother will…” she shook her head. “She’ll kill me.”

Owin did not want to voice the fears that continued to nag at him. Please let Elsin be okay. I must have misread that man’s lips.

After a few more blocks, Owin came to a stop next to the building where he had hidden his weapons and Gwen’s money. He could see guards moving along the main street, but they had not noticed him in the dark alley.

He felt some tension leave his arms as his hand contacted the scabbard of his sword. Fishing around, he also grabbed the dagger and coin pouch. Not waiting to strap the weapons on, he moved carefully backwards and when he could no longer see the guards, he turned and led Gwen back through the city along the fastest route he knew to Elsin’s flat.

Pausing twice to avoid the notice of city guards, he still made good time, taxing not only his body, but through the sounds of Gwen’s increasingly labored breathing, nearing her limit. We need to work more on her conditioning, he thought, keeping his mind focused on the immediate problems instead of what he might find once they made the last turn onto Harington Lane.

Once they reached the narrow lane that Elsin lived on, Owin stopped and crept to the corner. The flats in this section of the town were nicer than others as oil lamps provided light every dozen houses or so. Elsin’s flat sat at a two-thirds point between lamps. Enough light found its way to her door that he could tell there were no men standing at the door, but it would be possible for watchers to be positioned further down the lane.

“Do you think they would be waiting for us?” Gwen asked from behind him.

“Depending on how fast they realize we are off the grounds, we could have visitors at any moment. We have to get your mother and grandmother out and someplace safe.”

He could sense Gwen twisting her skirt with her hands, but he had no words to make her feel any better. He could not wait any longer; every moment wasted allowed any pursuit that much more time to catch them.

Staying low, he broke from cover and ran toward the Elsin’s door. Gwen followed more slowly in his wake. Moving up the steps, he turned the latch and swung the door open. The interior was dark. “Elsin,” he whispered despite every instinct telling him to remain silent.

Hearing no response, he moved inside, wishing his eyes would adjust to the changing light faster than they did. Knowing the layout, he moved easily through the rooms, searching for dark masses that would be out-of-place. In the kitchen, he saw what appeared to be a body on the floor. NO! Don’t let it be!

Moving across the room, he bumped bowls and utensils scattered about the floor. Kneeling, to check the person on the floor, he heard Gwen gasp from behind him.

“Is she okay?” From her voice, tears obviously streaming down her face.

Owin identified the person on the floor as Elsin by the feel of her skirt and the roughness of her hands. Using the back of his hand, he checked her face to see if any breath came from her lips or mouth.

“Please! Please, Onwa, let her be okay!” Gwen pleaded with the god of matrons and children.

Owin held his own breath as he waited. The deeds he committed in the name of the Duke kept him from asking any of the gods for help. A moment later, he felt his arms tremble from relief. “She breathes!”

Sitting back, he looked around, but the darkness was too complete. “Gwen, get the lamp and light it, but trim the wick very low. Stay away from any windows. I hate bringing light here, but we don’t have a choice.”

He heard Gwen move out of the kitchen, her breathing betraying her relief. Several moments later, she returned carrying the lamp Gavin had given Elsin as a present two months before he died. The intricately crafted copper case protected panes of actual glass. Elsin always refused to sell it, no matter how low of funds she became. Owin did not always agree, but he understood and did his best to make sure she never had to. And now it may not matter, he thought, fearing Elsin might never wake.

He glanced at Elsin in the increased light. She was on her left side; her right forearm obviously broken and swollen. A large knot rose from her right temple with a slight trace of blood having leaked from the initial wound.

Gwen gasped and started to move closer. “Wait,” Owin said, drawing her eyes to him. “Light the candle behind you and then take the lamp and check on your grandmother. Gather as many valuables as you can carry, the daggers I gave you, and perhaps some darker clothes and come back down here. We don’t have time to waste. I’ll tend to your mother.”

After a moment, Gwen nodded her head, grabbed the tallow candle, lit it from the lamp, and handed the candle to Owin. He put it on the floor as she silently headed to the stairs leading to the second floor.

“Elsin,” Owin said several times, trying to rouse her. That failing, he quickly grabbed a worn towel and several wooden spoons. Being as gentle as possible, he felt Elsin’s forearm to determine where it was broken. Finding the spot, he pulled and twisted, aligning the bones as best he could. “Damn,” he swore. Please, please, please be all right, he pleaded, having seen no response from Elsin at his treatment.

Grabbing the towel, he wrapped it once around her arm and then slid in the spoons to offer support as he continued to wind the towel. When he ran out of cloth, he tore the frayed ends and tied them together.

Behind him, he head Gwen’s footsteps. The tentative nature of their fall turned his attention. He saw the tears streaming down her pale face.

“Grandma’s dead.” She closed her eyes, but the tears did not stop. “There was so much blood. Her…her stomach spilled across the floor.”

Owin stood up, drawing open Gwen’s eyes. “There’s nothing you can do. We have to get out of here or we’ll end up the same way.”

She nodded her head, lifting the old blanket she had pulled tight around a large bundle. “We don’t have many valuables, but got what I could.” She closed her eyes again. “This is all my fault.”

Owin pulled her close and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll get you out of here, but I need help with your mother.” He quickly went to Elsin and rolled her onto her back, placing her right arm away from him. “I’ll need you to pull up her right arm and stick it on her chest.” Bending down, he lifted the woman who had been his friend’s wife. She was not heavy, but he knew her weight would tax his arms and back quickly. Turning to face Gwen, she secured her mother’s arm so it did not hang down.

He nodded his head to Gwen, indicating they should head toward the front of the house. As he blew out the candle, he considered several places they could go, but rejected them all. After a deep breath, he made his decision and hoped they could get away from the flat before anyone came to kill them.

 

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Owin #14 — I’m sorry

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin looked out into the darkness that covered the back garden of Lord Darro’s estate. “Which way?” he quietly asked Gwen as he led her away from the house and the light that could potentially give them away.

“The wash tubs are near the south wall and on the other side of the hedges you’re heading towards. There are paths through it, but I don’t know them well. It might be better if we go to the tubs and avoid the hedges.”

Owin missed the easy understanding that he had with her father. However, she did show promise. “Tubs, then the gate,” he confirmed.

“Okay, we will have to cross through the trees, but they are spread far apart.”

Keeping her beside him, he hastened their pace. More windows in the house behind them were now illuminated with light. He expected to see runners heading toward the back gate soon. At least they will likely carry lamps and give us warning on their movement.

Having run through the dark before, Owin pulled on Gwen’s hand, moving her off a course that would have collided with a dark mass. He could only see vague shapes, but as long as the object’s size was neither too large or two small, the slight outline allowed him to avoid it.

Owin picked up a strong ammonia smell just as Gwen turned their path. “The tubs are ahead, but we can cut toward the gate now,” he heard her say.

As they passed through an opening in another hedge, the dim outlines of scattered trees filled the darkness ahead of them. However, Owin also caught the sight of a single lamp in the far distance. Are they already warned or is that just a normal light? He cursed the fact he never really scouted out the manor house. Initially he wanted to avoid getting caught and causing trouble for Gwen. Well, there’s enough trouble now.

Stopping, he pulled the stolen sword and dagger from their scabbards. Turning to Gwen, he handed her the sword. “I want you to stay behind me and out of sight of the guards. I’m in a tunic and should be able to approach closely, hopefully in the dark, they won’t notice you…” He frowned; her light-colored dress would show up behind him. “Just stay directly behind me and hold to the sword to your chest. When I put my hand back for it, pass it to me and step left to get clear.” She nodded her head and he hoped she understood he wanted quick access to swing the weapon. The dagger’s blade he concealed with his left shirtsleeve and the handle with his palm.

Picking up the pace again, he hurried toward the light. As he grew close, they crossed onto a gravel road for carts and changed their path to follow the road toward the gate. Even from a distance, he could see three men at the gate, illuminated in the lamp light. The wooden gate, wide enough for a full wagon, was closed, blocking their exit. Smiling, he noted the lamp hung from a pole set between him and the men. It is damn good for me they expect trouble from without instead of from within.

Slowing his pace to a more normal one, he tried not to agonize on the distance to the men; however, he wanted the sound of their feet to come at a calm cadence when the guards would hear them. Forcing his breathing to slow, he watched for anyone else to come out of the small structure when the others turned to the sound of their approach.

“Hope there won’t be no rain,” he said, raising his right hand in greeting as he first became significantly illuminated by the lamp, though he did not know if they could see him clearly through the bright light positioned not too far above their heads. “Keep your eyes to the ground,” he whispered over his shoulder to Gwen, hoping she would avoid looking at the lamp.

“What you about for?” one of the men asked. “We’ve got a couple more turns of the glass before shift.”

Owin nodded his head, but still kept his eyes away from the light. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted two of the men trying to shield their faces to get a better view of him.

“Bloody servant didn’t finish her work and was forced to stay late. My job to put her out the gate.”

One of the men chuckled. “Sounds like she deserves to get bent over my knee…she’s not old and ugly is she?” the obviously young man added, trying to peer into the dark and see Gwen behind Owin.

Owin noted the man on the far end of their line had remained too calm and had said too little. Moving more quickly, Owin hoped Gwen would keep up with him.

The older man seemed about to protest, as Owin moved passed the lamp. “Boy, I’ve got a story to tell you about what happened earlier tonight.” Using a big hand gesture with his right hand, Owin watched the man’s eyes follow his movement. With his left, he swung quickly, the pommel of the dagger sliding between his fingers and striking the man across the temple. The man, having noted Owin’s left hand move, tried to late to duck. Owin met the man’s move left with a solid punch in the gut and then a knee to the groin.

The two other men, stunned, finally sprung to action as the older man slipped to the ground. Owin sung his right hand behind himself, while he let the dagger’s blade slip clear of his left sleeve. Catching the crossbar, he rotated the weapon in his hand as Gwen placed the sword handle in his right.

Moving forward, he swung the sword around as the nearer man cleared his sword from its scabbard. Stepping inside the man’s reach, Owin chose not to slash the man, opting instead to punch him in the face, using the mass of the sword and point of the crossguard to increase the force.

Owin let out a curse, catching his pinky against the man’s teeth, but the man staggered backward, his nose broken.

The third man, his weapons drawn, hesitated, trying to decide if he should run or fight. These boys would never had done well in the war. Owin stepped aggressively forward, but the third man swung and advanced instead of retreating. Damn, he almost lured me in.

Owin heard Gwen moving behind him, from the sounds of the grunt, she kicked the older man. Knowing time was running out, Owin advanced, adjusting his approach to engage a skilled opponent. Using his dagger as an off-hand weapon, he defected the young man’s initial swing and brought the heavy sword his swung in under the young man’s guard, just catching the front of the boy’s belly.

Owin hoped the cringe of pain cross the man’s face would drive him away, but the young man, recovered and stepping closer to get inside Owin’s reach.  The boy, wielding only the sword, swung high, trying to use a small height advantage to get over Owin’s head, but Owin parried the blow with his own sword while he slid the dagger home into the man’s chest.

The young man stepped back, surprise filling his face.

“I’m sorry,” Owin said, “the way you advanced; I thought you were more skilled. You should have just run.”

Owin stepped away, pulling out the bloody dagger as the young man stumbled back and sank to his knees, his hands holding the deep wound in his chest. Owin knew the Lord would not pay for a guard’s healing. “I really am sorry.”

The second man, his face and hands covered in blood turned into the darkness and started to run away. In the distance, Owin noted lamps moving out of the hedge and into the wooded area. He turned back toward the first man and Gwen.

“You coming?” she asked, the small door in the gate already swung open. Her voice trembling just enough to show how scared she really was.

“Yes,” he said, tossing aside the bloody dagger and sheathing the sword as she disappear through the opening.

 

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My web series: can you believe 3 months already?

Wow (as in surprise and amazement, not the on-line game).  Tomorrow the 14th installment of my web series about Owin will come out!  It is hard to believe I have managed to keep them coming every Tuesday for 3 months now.  (Writers are not generally renowned for keeping tightly to a schedule, so this is progress.)

My list of other blog posts I need to write continues to grow, but I am enjoying working on this second project while I still work on Stephenie’s story.  This story has offered me something of a diversion and a chance to explore another area of the world, even if it takes away from my other blogging time.

I hope the format for Owin works for everyone.  I initially planned to write just a thousand words a week or so, but I know a few of the recent ones are closer to 1500 to 2000 words.  The scenes were just too big for one thousand words.  Let me know if this is working or if you’d like to see me do it differently.  (Also, if you want to make sure you get each episode, you can subscribe to my newsletter, which emails out my posts once a week.)

As far as Stephenie’s story goes, I am working hard on book 4 and things are coming along well.  It’s too early to give dates and I won’t give any spoilers, but I am having fun writing it, so hopefully that will translate into the reading.

That’s all for now, I want to spend a little time reading myself this evening,

Ted

 

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Comic Con: Women Dominate?

This year I had a table at Wizard World’s Chicago Comic Con.  I enjoyed the Con, met a lot of great people, and made several very good contacts.  (I also bought stuff.)  On Saturday there were over 100k people who attended.

I started doing comic conventions this year with Planet Comicon in Kansas City, which set attendance records for Bartle Hall this year.  That was also an excellent show and I definitely intend to do Planet again in 2015.

While fantasy novels are not exactly an exact plugin for a comic book convention, there is a lot of overlapping interests and I will likely also do another Wizard World show next year as well.

Observations

From these cons and other related events, I did want to mention one item I’ve been noticing: I am seeing more and more women attending.  And not just as someone who is there because of someone else.  In fact, I would say that I saw more women in the Artist Alley section of Chicago’s Comic Con than I saw men.  Granted, that is not a scientific polling by any stretch of the imagination, but I saw ladies across all age spectrums from young to … more senior.  I saw people of numerous backgrounds and interests, but one thing the huge majority had in common was their personal interest in being there.  They were buying art, comics, books, and merchandise of all types.  These attendees are really into the shows and artists and books.  They enjoyed being there!

Sure, there were a lot of men present as well (and some unfortunately fit the stereotypical form of ‘that guy’ as though they were photocopied from it), but seeing the diversity across gender and background was incredibly refreshing to me.

While I am not the uber comic fan, I do enjoy comic books and I am thrilled to see it becoming less and less of a male dominated passion.  There is still a lot of work left to do, but the more women show themselves as consumers, the more ‘those’ shops and people will be marginalized and the richer the environment will become for everyone.

I think a lot of it is that comics, as well as the science fiction and fantasy genres, are be coming more mainstream.  We have huge block buster movies, quality television shows, and even more books making what one time had been an insult, into something cool.  Today, being a geek is no longer a bad thing!

Pictures

Okay, so here are some of the pictures I took at the Con.  I know I should have taken more, but I didn’t.  I always mean to, but get busy and then I’m behind a table … (excuses, I know).

However, here are a few I have that came out, though only one provided me with a track-back.  This is Maya Dinerstine (aka #AskKalyeeFrye).  She’s got an excellent cosplay of Kaylee (who is one of my favorite characters). She’s shiny and definitely worth a follow!

Below are a few more shots

Here is the actual robot head from the Lexx TV series.  This was the stunt double for the head with the video screens and the actual radio controlled cart (they only made the one cart).  The gentleman who had him drove the cart around for me.

 

 

 

 

I loved that Goot’s hands articulated!  He even picked up merchandise from some tables with those hands.  Great execution!

 

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Owin #13 — Out a window

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin quickly returned to the storeroom where Gwen stood over the Steward and the guard. She held the guard’s weapons loosely in her hands.

“I knew you’d come for me. I knew it. I refused to tell them anything because I knew you’d get me out.”

Owin held back the response he wanted to give her, instead he nodded his head. “We’re not out of here yet and we are fighting time.”

After looking around,Owin set down the weapons he was holding and moved toward the guard. Kneeling down, he rolled the guard over and out of the pool of oil from the jar Gwen broke over his head.

“What are you doing?”

“I need his tunic,” Owin said as he tried to lift the man’s upper body. “This is not easy, especially with a larger man. Believe me, I know.”

Gwen quickly set down the sword and dagger she held and went to Owin’s side. With her assistance, they removed the guard’s belt and oil stained tunic. When the man started to regain consciousness, Gwen grabbed another jar and broke that one over his head as well.

“You might end up killing him if you keep that up,” Owin said, uncertain if he cared. The man may have harmed Elsin, and if he had, Owin would come back later and end the man’s life himself.

Gwen’s expression hardened. “He…he was not nice to me.”

Owin nodded his head and then slipped the oily tunic over his head. With luck, no one will notice or they will just think I spilled dinner all over myself. Picking up the belt, he quickly fastened it. Gwen had gathered the weapons and handed him a sword and dagger. He slid the weapons into their scabbards. “Give me the other ones.”

“What should I carry?”

Owin shook his head and walked over to a shelf and put the weapons up high and out of sight. “I’m going to try to escort you out the front gate, so you don’t get to carry anything.” Seeing her expression he added, “The weapons are marked with the Lord’s House. We can’t keep them.”

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry for this, Owin.”

He smiled at her and then patted her on the arm. “We all screw up sometimes. Let’s get out of here.” Grabbing a jar from a shelf, he walked closer to the Steward and dropped it on the back of his head. The man flinched and then returned to stillness. “We don’t need him following us.”

Owin led the way up the stairs. At the top he stopped for a moment to listen for any sounds. Hearing nothing, he took charge and pushed the door open. If anyone was watching, he could not appear to be hesitant, that would only draw suspicion.

Stepping out into the dimly lit hall, Owin looked both directions. He wanted to get outside into the darkness as quickly as possible. In any lighted area, someone might realize he was not a guard. In the darkness, assuming there were enough men hired to protect the estate, it might be possible not everyone would know everyone else. At least I can hope.

He would prefer to use the exit he was certain of, but if the men who stood guard when he was escorted into the house remained, he would not be able bluff his way out. So instead of heading back toward the servant’s dining room, he turn the other way down the hall to the far door.

By his estimation, he should be close to the corner of the building. Opening the door, he glanced into the room and found it to be a bedroom. A woman sitting in a chair with her back toward him lifted her head up and started to turn toward the open door.

“My apologies, ma’am, just checking to make sure things were alright. Don’t trouble yourself,” Owin added, quickly shutting the door before the woman could speak. Damn it.

Moving back toward the cellar, Owin quickly opened the first door he passed that faced the back of the house. This lead to a small sitting room. Owin could see windows on the far wall and the outline of an open doorway on the side wall. Pulling Gwen through the door, he quickly closed it in case the woman had the gumption to get up and check the hall.

Leading Gwen toward the open doorway, they passed into a well furnished bedroom.  Many windows lined the back wall and fortunately, no one was present.  Unfortunately, there were no other doors.

“How many gates are there for his property?” Owin quickly asked. “Is there a back gate?”

“Yes, mainly used for deliveries.”

He noticed Gwen looking back toward the doorway.  “We’re going out a window,” he said quietly.

Gwen nodded again and followed Owin as he examined the large windows. “Do you know whose room this is?” he asked.

Gwen pursed her lips. “Perhaps the butler. The important servants have these rooms is all I know.”

Owin was impressed that the house had glass windows for servants. The amount of wealth this Lord held had to be immense. He lifted the window and then used a wooden stave from the sill to hold it open.  Sticking his head through the opening, he looked at the distance to the ground. He also checked for the presence of any guards. Finding it clear, he pulled himself back into the room and motioned Gwen closer.

“It’s a good drop; I’ll have to lower you down.”

“I ready for it.”

Hearing noises from the outer hallway, Owin helped Gwen climb up onto the windowsill and slide her legs out into the darkness. Holding her hands, she spun around and Owin slowly lowered her down as far as he could before using one hand to untangle her dress from the sill. When her clothing was free, she let go and dropped the short distance to the ground.

Now hearing actual voices, Owin quickly climbed out the window and worked his way down the outside of the house until he hung from the windowsill by his hands. Fortunately, he was taller than Gwen was and only had to drop a similar distance.

His stolen blades made a small noise when he landed, but he did not wait to see if the sound would draw anyone’s attention. Spotting Gwen’s form in the darkness, he moved toward her and grabbed her hand. “Which way to the back gate?”

 

The post Owin #13 — Out a window appeared first on Thaddeus Nowak.

Owin #12 — The cellar

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin’s face remained expressionless despite the terror in his chest. He had just assaulted soldiers and servants of one of the Lords of the city of Rhyl because he thought he read the lips of a man saying he had hurt Elsin. Now he had to find his way deeper into the estate to rescue Gwen and then get them both out alive. Damn, I really need to find a different line of work.

Owin allowed the old Steward to keep his feet. The man had lived at least fifty years, but most of that life did not appear to have been difficult. While he had an obvious cruel nature, the act of performing menial work seemed to remain outside his experience, so Owin had no direct fear of the man.

Still breathing hard, the Steward practically spit at Owin. “You harm me, they will kill you.”

Owin nodded his head. “You do anything to cause me trouble and you’ll die before I do. I intend to free Gwen and leave, no one else has to get hurt.”

The old man nodded his head, though Owin could see the contempt and disdain in his eyes. Getting out alone, I think I could still do that. Getting out with Gwen is going to be hard.

Despite the likelihood of betrayal, Owin had no choice except to use the man to take him to Gwen. “Okay, you’ll escort me to her now. You’ll tell anyone that asks that you are leading me there to convince her to tell the truth. You say anything else and then I’ll have to start killing people.”

“Fine.”

Owin took the dagger from the old man’s waist. Reversing the blade, he pressed it against his own forearm and concealed the handle in the palm of his hand. Wishing for a way to keep the soldier’s sword, he hesitated a moment before sliding it onto the seat of the chairs at the table. It would hopefully go unnoticed for a time.

“Let’s go.”

The old man pulled open the door and led Owin into the long hall he had been escorted through when he had been brought into the house. The fortunate thing is they don’t want the help mixing with the household, Owin thought as they moved down the dimly light corridor. They passed several doors on both walls before stopping at one Owin knew would lead deeper into the building.

“We are holding her in the cellar,” the Steward said.

Owin hesitated a moment. The thought of blindly opening the door scared him. When he and Gavin had infiltrated castles and fortified home, they always knew the basic layout and sometimes even had reports from spies. Time being his enemy, Owin readied himself and then nodded his head for the Steward to open the door.

The anticipation fortunately exceeded reality; on the other side of the door was a darkened stairway leading down. No threat jumped out to meet him, only a faint glow at the bottom gave hint to a stone walled room. “I’ll follow you down,” Owin said.

The Steward moved forward slowly, his steps those of an injured old man. That behavior heightened Owin’s concern instead of easing it. By the time they reached the bottom, the man took several moments to move down every step. However, Owin resisted the urge to hurry the man along.

“Steward?” came the voice of a nervous man deeper in the room and still out of Owin’s sight. “I promise, it wasn’t my fault what happened.”

Owin felt his blood start to heat, but forced his emotions down. He had to retain his wits to get out. Coming down the last couple of steps, Owin remained behind the Steward, but took note of the rows of shelves covered with various dried goods. On the other side of the room were three men, two sitting at a small table, and one, presumably the one who had spoken, recently out of the chair that was still touching his legs.

Owin sized up the man who stood, his youth was complimented by wide shoulders and a muscular neck. The two men still at the table were thinner and more wiry. “I’m just here to get Gwen,” Owin whispered.

“We are here to talk with the thief,” the Steward said to the soldier.

Owin whispered again, “Have her brought out here.”

Despite being behind the Steward, he could see the snarl on the man’s face through the tightening of his neck muscles. “Bring the thief out here.”

Owin watched the standing man head off to the left, leaving the room through a side passage. The other two men stood. They wore swords on their sides and their padded armor would protect them from any punches or bludgeoning blows Owin could land.  However, they would be vulnerable to stabbing attacks. I just have to avoid getting hit myself.

Owin waited behind the Steward as the other men stood with growing suspicion. However, they did not voice any questions. After many long moments, Gwen stumbled into the room, pushed forward by the man who chased her from the other passage.

“Get your damn hands off me,” she swore. “I’ve not done anything!”

Owin admired her spunk, but wished none of this had ever happened. “Tell her to come over here,” he said softly to the Steward, hoping the darkness in their part of the room would keep the soldiers from seeing him as giving the orders. However, the Steward said nothing. “Don’t mess this up now.”

The large man who presumably hurt Elsin grabbed Gwen’s shoulder, holding her in place several feet ahead of the other soldiers, but still a dozen feet from the Steward. “What do you want me to do with her?”

Owin caught Gwen’s eye and she could not hide the recognition from her face, though the soldiers behind her were not in a position to observe her expression. Knowing the situation was deteriorating quickly, Owin gave a single nod of his head.

Gwen responded instantly, kicking down with her heel on the top of the soldier’s left foot. Twisting, she tried dropped her weight down to break the soldier’s grip on the top of her shoulder. With her left fist, she aimed for his groin and struck a stolid blow that gained her freedom.

Owin rammed his right hand up toward the back of the Steward’s head, slamming the pommel of the dagger into his skull with a resounding thud. The man did not have a chance to cry out before crumpling to the floor.

Gwen started toward Owin, moving just ahead of the other men who had hoped to grab her before she got away from them. Owin, leaping over the Steward’s prone body, met the nearer of the men with a punch to the face. With the additional mass of the dagger, his blow knocked the man backwards and onto his rear.

The last man, seeing Owin’s attack, drew his sword. Owin moved around the man he punched and ducked under the sword swing. With the dagger reversed to have the blade forward, Owin rose up inside the soldier’s reach, jabbing the blade into the unprotected area of his left armpit. Warm blood gushed forth as Owin pulled the blade free. Forcing his own body into the soldier’s, Owin wrapped his left arm around the soldier’s right and ripped the sword free of the man’s weakened grasp.

With a solid shove, Owin sent the man backward into the table. Behind him, he heard a jar crash against something hard. He turned around. Gwen stood over the first man, the remains of a ceramic jug scattered around his body, which was now sprawled across the floor.

The second guard had managed to get to his knees. Owin moved a step closer, slipping the stolen blade under the man’s chin. “You don’t want to fight me.”

The man shook his head. “I surrender.”

“Undo your sword belt and drop it to the floor. Then stand up, take your friend and help him to the cell. You’ll need to put pressure on his wound or he’ll die.”

The soldier glanced at his friend whose pale face held a vagueness that said he might soon lose consciousness. The idea that anyone would keep fighting despite damaging wounds always amazed Owin. Unless no hope remained, most people drew away from the conflict and tried to find a way to cling to life.

The second solider unfastened his belt and let his weapons fall to the floor. With a quick hand wipe of his bloody lip, the soldier regained his feet and went to his friend. Helping the injured man to his feet, the second soldier half carried his friend down the side passage to a doorway. Going inside, the man turned around to face Owin. “You’ll tell them to come check on us?”

“I will,” he lied. Spying the keys handing on the wall outside the door, Owin pulled the door shut and then locked it. Now to get Gwen out and find out what happened to Elsin.

 

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Owin #11 — Trouble in the dining room

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin’s mind raced as he sat in what he assumed was the servants dining room. A small table that seated six sat in the middle of the nondescript room. The rectangular wooden surface lacked any ornamentation, as did the rickety chairs around it. The whitewashed walls showed their age through the dullness generated by countless oil lamps and candles.

The only items of interest were the door that remained closed and the two guards standing against the walls behind him. Dressed in padded armor, their expressions might have provoked a description of boredom, had their eyes contained less malice.

Owin continued pushing thoughts of Gwen from his mind. It won’t do me any good until I know something, he kept swearing to himself. The idea of counting the time offered no relief either. His wait had already neared half a turn of the glass. Whatever was delaying the Steward was not something Owin could control.

The sound of footsteps outside the thick wooden door lifted Owin’s eyes. A moment later, the handle turned and an aged man moved confidently into the room. He shut the door behind him, while his face took on a disapproving scowl. “Are you her father?” The man asked without preamble.

“I’ve coming to check on Miss Gwen,” Owin responded, not wanting to be caught in an outright lie if they knew her father was dead. “She had not arrived at home and I had hoped to find out if she had left yet or not. I’ve been here for quite some time; I hope it was not wasted if something happened to her on the way home.” Although he knew better than to complain, his irritation needed an outlet. And her being picked up by strangers might be better than still being here.

“Your Miss Gwen is a thief.” The wrinkled lip of the old man curled slightly upward. “She will tell us what she did with it. Otherwise, we will make you pay for the loss, though from your appearance, I doubt that will occur quickly. What is it you do?”

Owin’s stomach dropped. Please, don’t have been a fool and tried to take something else. “I am a laborer,” he lied.

“I expected so.” The man leaned forward, placing his hands on the table that sat between them. “Where is the item she stole?”

Owin cocked his head. “You accused her of stealing; I would assume you had proof.” The man slammed his hands on the table and Owin suspected he reacted a little too slowly for someone cowed into obedience.

“Don’t take tone with me, you piece of crap. Where is what she stole?”

Owin leaned forward. “Look, I don’t know what you are talking about. If you have no proof, I demand you let her go.”

The older man straightened. “She was caught in the house yesterday. A silver spoon disappeared. While I don’t know where she hid it, I could guess.”

Owin shook his head. “You have no proof. Let her go.”

The Steward smiled and shook his head. “No. She’ll confess. When she gets hungry or thirsty enough, she’ll tell us.”

Owin felt his hands clench, but before he could respond, the door opened and another guard stepped into the room. The nervous twitch of the young man’s cheek held Owin in place.

“Excuse me, Sir.”

“What?” demanded the Steward, turning to face the young man.

Owin strained his ears, but the young man lowered his voice below what could be heard from across the room. Watching the guard’s hairless lips, Owin tried to read his words. Mother…fought…someone’s name…did he say broken neck? Owin’s heart raced. Damn them, they better not have…they better not have…

Owin felt the guards behind him move closer but could not take his eyes from the guard speaking at the door; however, the Steward had stepped in the way. The old man’s growl worried Owin.

“Get out. You’ve caused me enough trouble.” When the guard turned to leave, the Steward turned back to Owin, obviously disturbed. “As I said, she will tell us…she will…” The old man glanced to the men behind Owin. “For now, you will wait here until she confesses.”

Owin heard the man on his right trying to silently slip his sword from its scabbard. Damn them, they hurt Elsin. He would not let himself consider her dead, not yet. He had to focus on rescuing Gwen and then deal with whatever else had happened.

Kicking back his chair, Owin jumped to his feet. With his right hand, he grabbed the spindly chair and swung it hard into the man on his right, sending broken wood across the room. Still holding a narrow bit of broken wood, he jabbed the guard’s face, tearing his cheek and ripping the skin above his eye.

Spinning around, Owin rushed the second guard. With his left hand held flat and his figures curled under, he punched the second man in the throat, causing him to gag and reach for his crushed windpipe.

Owin turned back to the first guard who had one hand over his eye and cheek. Dropping the wooden shaft, Owin punched the young man square in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and the man from his feet.

The Steward had recovered from his shock and made for the door. Owin jumped up and slid over the narrow table. He smashed into the back of the old man, slamming shut the door in the process.

“Don’t kill me!”

Owin kneed the man in the gut, sending the old man to the floor. He kicked the man once more in the gut to make sure he could not call out, and then quickly went back to the first guard. The guard, struggling to get up, stopped when Owin put his foot on his chest. “Silence or I’ll have to kill you.”

The guard, whose hands were covered in his own blood, nodded his head slowly. Bending down, Owin picked up the sword and removed the guard’s daggers. Glancing at the second guard, Owin could see tremors in the man’s limbs as he gurgled for breath. He might live, Owin thought without much certainty.

Thinking of Elsin, perhaps hurt or dead, he glanced down at the first guard; he could not trust the man to remain silent. With startling speed, he reached down, lifted the man’s shoulders, and then slammed his head into the floor. The man’s eyes glazed over and Owin hoped the blow would keep him unconscious.

Quickly moving back to the Steward, he watched as the old man struggled to his feet. “You’ll die for this.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. The Duke used me to eliminate his enemies. Working alone inside a castle is what I do.”

 

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