Joshua Reynolds's Blog, page 40

Drums of the Tzaanwar

Strange trilling calls echoed through the fenlands. Lean forms, clad in jade and gold, splashed swiftly through the dark waters. The scent of death-magic was strong on the night wind, even as the Unseen had promised. The mortal had offered his Tzaangor allies first pickings – if they could break through the dead, now massing at the ruined watchtower known as the Wickenmotte. A test of their loyalties and strength, both. 

Tzekmek, Great Changer of the Barrowflock, had accepted that challenge, and gladly. There was strong magic in those ruins, and with it, he might raise a flux-cairn capable of warping the turgid landscape of the Ghost Bat Bog into something more pleasing to Tzeentch’s gaze. 

He hissed in anticipation of the feast to come as he crouched low on the pulsating Disc of Tzeentch he rode. He sped just above the marsh’s tangled canopy, followed by his bodyguard of chattering Enlightened. The babbling warriors hunched atop their own discs, a fug of broken memories swirling about them. Nearby, ever-silent Skyfires kept pace, their keen gazes sweeping the murk below, arrows ready to be loosed should the enemy show themselves. 

Beneath the trees, lesser Tzaangors loped through the gloom, screeching eagerly. They too could smell the dead, and the magic that animated them. And soon enough, that magic would belong to the changekin…

Previously on useless hobby talk, I managed to eke out a win against Rich’s Deathrattle horde, smashing his skeleton warriors and crushing his Wight King into the mud, thanks to the whims of the Changer of Ways. But the dead often don’t stay that way in the Mortal Realms, especially not in the Ghost Bat Bog.

The Deathrattle defenders of the sunken mansions reassembled themselves with commendable speed and regrouped further south, at the Wickenmotte. The Wight King, realising that these foes were beyond him, called forth his Grave Guard to join him and demanded aid from an ancient ally.

Soon enough, his moss-encrusted forces were joined by an elegant stranger, who’d ridden from the Coast of Tusks, and the tangled byways of Excelsis, to answer an ages-old pact between the dead fen-king and her mistress. While she had come ostensibly to act as an adviser, the power she wielded might prove a match for that of the encroaching arcanites.

Meanwhile, the Unseen had given the glory of driving the dead from the Wickenmotte to his ally, Tzekmek. The Tzaangor shaman was eager to feast on the death-magics which festered in the bog, and raced ahead with his warflock to claim the Wickenmotte for himself.

Last time, Rich and I played the Skeins of Fate battleplan from the Disciples of Tzeentch battletome. This time, we opted for the Take and Hold battleplan from the General’s Handbook. Once again, Wargames Emporium kindly played host to the carnage.

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As you can see, I managed to get some painting in. My Tzaangor are coming along nicely, if a bit Mardi Gras-esque. They’re not finished yet – not even close – but they’re getting there. I’m only getting in a few hours every few days, when I can scrape up the spare time, but it’s enough.

Rich was playing the same army he employed last time, augmented with a unit of Grave Guard and a Soulblight vampire. I opted to use a Tzaangor warflock – a shaman, a unit of Enlightened, a unit of Skyfires and two ten-strong units of Tzaangor.

Since we were playing Take and Hold, Rich and I chose our objectives, with him grabbing the big crumbled ruin and me taking the lonely little archway.  As with our last game, Tzeentch smiled on me, and I won the first turn. I gave Rich the option to go first, and his fleshless warriors began to advance through the sludge and stones. As the Wight King and his bodyguards opted to defend their objective, the vampire summoned a new unit of skeletons closer to my lines…

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…which were then summarily obliterated by the shaman’s magics and the deadly accuracy of the Skyfires.

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As the Tzaangor formed a shield wall, awaiting the arrival of their bony foes, the Enlightened swooped down on the Wickenmotte, shadowed by the Skyfires.

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Despite dashing an impressive number of skeletons into the mud, the Enlightened couldn’t break them all, leaving them in position to be swarmed by the Wight King and another unit of Deathrattle warriors. Given their toughness, I wasn’t overly worried – but I needed to do something about the Wight King.

As in our previous game, I managed to win initiative for the second phase, and duly took my double-turn, as befitted one blessed of the Architect of Fate. Deciding to focus on what I perceived to be the largest threat, i.e. the Wight King, my shaman and Skyfires moved to support the Enlightened, as the other Tzaangor shuffled leftwise. Despite Tzekmek’s spellcasting proving utterly ineffective – Tzeentch giveth and Tzeentch taketh away – the Skyfires managed to wound the Wight King, and shatter a few skeletons.

The Enlightened did a bit better, crushing some skulls, and nearly killing the Wight King, but for a lucky save. The ancient warrior was tottering, though he managed to draw blood in return. As Rich’s turn began, the vampire cast Spirit Blight on the embattled Enlightened, even as more skeletons piled in to join the fray at the Wickenmotte, ones that had fallen clambered back to their feet, and the Black Knights and Grave Guard advanced towards the Tzaangor with stolid determination. To finish things off, the vampire used her command ability – Blood Feast – to make one of the units of skeletons extra murder-y.

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Despite this, the Enlightened held firm, thanks mostly to their Guided by the Past ability, allowing them to re-roll failed hit and wound rolls. The Aviarch managed to dispatch the Wight King in a stunning display of brutality (and failed saves), before being eliminated in his turn by the vengeful skeletons. Luckily for me, the remaining Enlightened passed their battle shock test, by the grace of a Destiny Dice.

Handy things, Destiny Dice.

The third phase began with more blessings from Tzeentch and another absolute failure on the part of Tzekmek to do anything useful, despite using his Sorcerous Elixir. Luckily, everyone else was on point. A pack of Tzaangor loped to the aid of the embattled Enlightened, as the other pack tightened their shield wall, and the Skyfires plucked apart a few more skeletons. The melee phase got bloody as the newly arrived Tzaangor wiped out a group of skeletons and another Enlightened was pulled down, but he took a few skeletons with him, as the unit suffered from the Babbling Stream of Secrets, and lost several models due to battleshock.

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Things got a bit hectic, after that. With the beginning of the fourth phase, Tzekmek finally managed to get his mojo working, and obliterated a number of skeletons. The Grave Guard, led by the vampire, and the Black Knights raced towards the brawl on the steps of the Wickenmotte, but only the latter reached it. Unfortunately for Rich, the Black Knights ran smack into the Tzaangor, who’d finished with the skeletons and hungered for meatier fare.

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The Black Knights managed to get in a few blows before the fifth phase began, and once again I was blessed by the Master of Fortune. Between Tzekmek’s magics, and the Tzaangor’s brutality, the Black Knights were cut down to a rider.

The Skyfires, meanwhile, had finally gotten a bead on the vampire, and put her down with a bevy of well-aimed shots.

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As the fifth phase came to a close, the Grave Guard retreated, bearing the broken body of their twice-slain lord deeper into the fens. The vampire, writhing from the pain of the arrows jutting from her form, tried to escape as well, the screeching Tzaangor in pursuit…

All told, this was a more interesting game than the first. While neither Rich or myself managed to accomplish our objectives – those damn skeletons proving too stubborn to fully shift – I still managed to eke out a minor victory.

Unit synergy played a big part in that, I think. Keeping the shaman close to the Enlightened and Skyfires, and later, the Tzaangor, allowed them to use a variety of special abilities, which, in turn, allowed them to do a lot more damage than they might otherwise have done. Given the Deathrattle penchant for resurrecting slain models, that’s the edge I needed.

All that said, this army build performed a lot more ably than the first one I tried. I have a game lined up for next week, wherein I’ll be facing either Sylvaneth or Nurgle Rotbringers, and I’m eager to see how Tzekmek’s warflock performs against such opponents.

Next time…hopefully a closer look at some painted models. No promises, but I might actually finish painting something this weekend.

The leech shrieked in defiance as the Tzaangor surrounded it. It was hobbled, tarry blood streaking its pale limbs and soaking its once-fine garments.  But that did not mean it wasn’t dangerous. Tzekmek growled in frustration as one of his warriors was flung backwards, neck broken. Another crumpled, skull crushed by an ivory fist. The vampire tore a heavy branch from a nearby tree and swung it in a wide arc, driving the Tzaangor back. 

With a contemptuous sniff, the vampire tossed the branch aside, and began to weave its hands in ritual gestures. Tzekmek felt the aether stir, and knew the creature was trying to escape.  He squalled a command, and the Skyfires swooped past. Arrows hummed through the murky air, pinning the vampire’s hands to the tree behind it. It screamed, more in rage than pain, until a third arrow sprouted from its throat. 

Even then, it persisted. They were hardy creatures, these leeches. He crouched atop his disc, leaning against his staff, and observed the struggling vampire. Such a creature had a plethora of uses, if one but had the wit to see. Chuckling harshly, Tzekmek signalled for his warriors to bind the vampire.

He would deliver it up to the Unseen. A gift and a challenge, both. The Magister wasn’t the only one who could test his allies…

Mask Vs. Bat Vs. Patreon

It’s the first of the month, and there’s a new short story available at my Patreon page. “Máscara contra Murciélago” is a post-apocalyptic crime-wrestling story, in which a former luchador-turned-hitman fights a giant mutant bat. If I can’t sell you that for a dollar, I’m in the wrong business.

I’ve had the Patreon page active for around three months now, and while I’m still getting to grips with how it works, I’m fairly well satisfied. Even more important, my patrons seem satisfied.

It’s been easy enough, so far. The four stories I’ve posted were already written, as are the next few I’ve got lined up – they were either written specifically for projects that never came to fruition, or were rejected by whatever market I’d hoped to submit them to. While I could’ve shopped them around to other markets, I decided I might as well try and get a more immediate use out of them. I’m confident enough in my own abilities these days that a rejection doesn’t immediately make me question the viability of a work.

Too, this year, one of my aims has been to diversify my income streams a bit more. A majority of what I bring in each year comes from one or two sources, and I’d like to vary that some. To that end, I’ve been seeking out other publishing opportunities. While I did consider self-publishing, Patreon offers a similar experience for a smaller time investment. That isn’t to say that I won’t try self-publishing something in the future, but at the moment it’s a non-starter for me.

I’ve also given more thought to serialising a short novel or two on Patreon. Obviously, that would require a different form patronage – I’m not going to make people pay a buck a chapter – but it might be a good way of experimenting with some ideas I’m interested in exploring, but doubt I can find a publisher for. Still, that’s for next year, at earliest. This year is for short stories.

Lots and lots of short stories.

If you’re interested in reading some, why not stop by my Patreon page, pledge a dollar and get to reading?

WIPW: Sort Of

It’s been a little over ten days since I last posted an entry. Mea culpa. My bad. Anyway, I’ve been busy. Some of us work for a living, people. Sort of. Kind of.

I completed the first draft of Book #1 of 2017 around two weeks ago. It topped off at 120,000 words, give or take a few hundred. Which is pretty chunky, for a book about an immortal space vivisectionist and his flunkies. I don’t expect the book to remain at that length, once the editing process begins. There’s some fat that can definitely be trimmed, I think.

Week before last, I spent working on a short story for Black Library, as well as one for a Sherlock Holmes anthology I was invited to submit to earlier this year. I finished both, but the latter is in need of a serious edit, which I’ll likely get to this weekend. Both short stories came to around 6,000 words apiece, which made for a busy week. Especially when you add in the audio pitch I wrote towards the end of the week. An audio pitch for a thing that isn’t even out yet, no less. Hey-ho, that’s how the work goes.

With those out of the way, I was free to start on Book #2 of 2017 last week. Interestingly, Book #2 was supposed to be Book #4 of last year, before it got pushed back. I’ve made good headway on it – as of today, I’m 19,000 words into it, which is pretty good for a week and some change. This one took a bit of time to come to grips with. I had a few false starts with it, trying to get back into the character’s head, after having to postpone the project last year. It’s also required a lot more research than the last few books I’ve written, with lots of other books to be read, in preparation.

If you’d like a hint as to what Book #2 is about, it falls somewhere between this short story and this audio drama. Please purchase one, or preferably both, as the mood takes you.

And that’s what I’ve been up to.

Oh, and by the way, there’ll be a new short story going up over at my Patreon this weekend, if that sort of thing interests you. There are currently three stories available for patrons to read, for a donation of a dollar per story. Why not take a look, and consider dropping a buck or two in the dollar bin.

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Zibaldone #17: Low Houses

It’s been a good while since I’ve done one of these. Figured I might as well start back up with another scrap of free writing from my commonplace book. Like the previous two, it’s based on a thing I heard about as a kid, and was written as a warm up for something better. This one was written in…2014? 2015? Something like that. Enjoy, or not, as it pleases you.

The house sat back up a-ways off Red Church Road, settled into a rut of kudzu vines and sway-trunked trees. It was abandoned. Or maybe it had never had a human presence in it at all. It was lacking in that touch, that sense of human warmth.

No one had ever owned it. No one ever would. The folks who lived closest to it ignored it. Pretended they didn’t see it. But they crossed to the other side of the road from it nonetheless. The house was a low house, they whispered. A bad house. It wasn’t a house at all, they said. It just looked like one.

It glared out at the world through empty, black windows and its door yawned open, filled with cobwebs from corner to corner. In the summer, hornets nested in the walls and the house seemed to vibrate with their numbers, wooden slats trembling.

Lightning hit it twice in twenty years, but it didn’t burn. Instead it persisted. The wood turned black with mould and it sagged oddly in a fierce wind.

But it never fell down. Never collapsed. Nothing could get rid of it. Seemed like nothing ever would. Until the county decided to tear it down so the logging trucks could get through to the deep, black woods behind it.

A fancy man from the county came out to see it one day, to assess it he told its neighbours, and the house gave out with a quiet moan as he pushed through the kudzu and stepped into its secret places. He stopped, as if listening to the wind. And then he went on in. And the house seemed to groan as its windows rattled even though there was no wind. Not even a breeze.

He didn’t come back out, that fancy man. Just vanished the same way Dell Mark did in ’88 and Poss Hart did in ’69. Vanished and gone. Swallowed up by the low house on Red Church Road. And the neighbours clucked their tongues, and shook their heads and pretended they’d never seen no fancy man come down thisaway. It was easier that way.

When the county trucks came rumbling along a week later, they didn’t find it. It had picked itself up and moved on, that nasty low house. The county-men found holes in the turf full of splinters and brick dust where it had walked off in the night.

They never found the fancy man. Or Dell Mark. Or Poss Hart. Or any of the others going all the way back, climbing up the years like the kudzu vines it had left behind.

The moral is, watch out for low houses. They hard to get in and harder still to get out of.

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Skeins of Fate

A blade swept out, shattering an unfortunate tree to splinters. The length of crude iron had been etched with ruinous sigils, and wept flux-fire from its jagged edge. Where it passed, the air was rent by the sounds of discordant piping and the screams of beasts. To the one who held it, such a clamouring was as the most subtle of compositions, and to those who followed him, it was as if all the spirits of earth and air were urging them onward. 

Flux-fires gleamed in the dark of the Ghost Bat Bog as the being known as the Relevator led his brothers and sisters in the Cockatrice Conclave to war. The creature once known as Calaspa Bo lumbered between the crooked trees, smashing aside any that rose in his path. Somewhere in the dark before him, the restless dead waited in silent defiance of the hounds of fate. The Relevator went to teach them the folly of such resistance. 

Once possessed of a mind of infinite convolutions, Bo was now as single-minded as the foes he splashed towards so relentlessly. The great, coiling feathered worm-shape clinging to the Curseling hissed soft encouragement, directing him ever-forward. The daemon-thing whispered to the Relevator of secrets to be revealed, and knowledge to consumed, once the sunken mansions of the ancient fen-kingdoms were theirs to plunder. 

Unfortunately, the dead had other ideas…

So, last time, I had begun to assemble the first elements of my Disciples of Tzeentch army for my first foray into Age of Sigmar. With a Magister and two units of Kairic Acolytes, I thought I had a pretty solid start. Then, I got bored and made a Curseling out of bits and green stuff.

Adding to that core, I assembled a Tzaangor Shaman, twenty Tzaangor, a unit of Skyfires and a unit of Tzaangor Enlightened. This gives me a range of options, as far as battalions go – I can assemble some combination of an Alterkin Coven, a Witchfyre Coven and/or a Tzaangor Coven with what I currently have assembled. I’m currently pondering adding further units, but I’m in no rush. I’ve got plenty to paint.

Speaking of paint, I *think* I’ve decided on a viable colour scheme – lots of blues, purples and greens, with a bit of red and gold (or bronze) for contrast. It’s not the most sophisticated colour palette, I admit, but given my limited abilities in that regard, it’s good enough. I haven’t managed to get much painting in, unfortunately – with a book to finish and various other projects to start, my hobby time has been all but nil.

That said, I still managed to get in my first proper game recently. Rich and I bellied up to a table at Wargames Emporium, our friendly local game store, and set out our forces. Rich assembled a mighty Deathrattle force – consisting of two large units of Skeleton Warriors and a unit of Black Knights led by a fearsome Wight King – to defend the lost treasures of the sunken mansions. Intent on plundering said treasures was the Curseling, Calaspa Bo, leading a unit of Kairic Acolytes, a pack of Tzaangor, and a unit of deadly Tzaangor Skyfires.

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The Arcanites are the grey blur on the left. Rich’s somewhat more colourful Deathrattle forces are on the right. Given that this was my first proper game, we decided to play the Skeins of Fate Battleplan, which is all about the Disciples of Tzeentch revealing themselves to their enemies and launching an attack. Too, this battleplan has an added wrinkle – while the defender’s objective is fairly simple (i.e. eliminate the cult), the attacker has to roll each battle round on the ‘Tzeentch’s Will’ table to see what their objectives are for that round. I, of course, rolled a 3 for the first battle round, meaning I had to wipe out an enemy unit and/or a hero.

The Deathrattle seized the initiative and started their slow, inexorable march towards the invaders. A few moments later, the Skyfires shot forward. The daemonic disc-riding Tzaangor had caught the scent of the ancient magics empowering the Wight King, and were determined to claim it for themselves. The other Tzaangor followed, braying with unnatural hunger as they loped through the trees. The Relevator held firm, alongside his devoted acolytes.

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Despite their helpfully murderous inclinations, the Skyfires didn’t manage to down the Wight King – though they did reduce him to a single wound. As the second round began, I again rolled a 3 for Tzeentch’s will and decided to concentrate on bringing the Wight King down. Once again, despite seizing the initiative, the Skyfires failed to enact Tzeentch’s will, leaving it to the Relevator to finish off his opposite number with an arcane bolt, after casting a mystic shield on the Skyfires.

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That mystic shield came in handy, as the Deathrattle forces at last got to grips with the foe. A unit of Skeleton Warriors, supported by the Black Knights, slammed into the Skyfires, looking for vengeance. As the battle claimed the life of one of the Skyfires, Calaspa Bo and the Tzaangor joined the fray.

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By this time, I had managed to roll a 1 for Tzeentch’s will, meaning I was looking to successfully cast or unbind spells. This I proceeded to do, as the Relevator recast mystic shield on the battered Skyfires, and plucked a wounded Black Knight from the saddle with his arcane bolt. In the ensuing melee, Bo and the Tzaangor mauled the remaining Black Knights with startling ferocity, and the Skyfires managed to extricate themselves from combat.

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Following this, the pendulum of fate swung decidedly in my favour. Despite my opponents’ infuriating inability to stay dead, my forces managed to slowly grind them to powder. The Skyfires and acolytes stayed out of charge range, picking off skeletons, as the Curseling and the Tzaangor accounted for the rest, leaving a trail of splintered bones in their wake.

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By the fifth and final turn, the Cockatrice Conclave had emerged bloody, but unbowed, and in control of the ancient corpse-road to the forgotten fen-kingdoms. Victorious, the Tzaangor moved to devour the mouldering bones of the Wight King, but found the shattered husk gone, and the fens ominously silent…

Despite my victory, I made any number of mistakes. For instance, I foolishly held the acolytes back, rather than using them to screen the Skyfires. While my obsession with eliminating the Wight King (who murdered a third of my army in the practice game I played a few weeks ago) yielded positive results, it also enabled most of Rich’s army to reach me unhindered. And given the Deathrattle army’s ability to almost constantly rebuild itself, ignoring those units could have been a costly error, had I not made some lucky dice rolls.

Regarding my army composition, the acolytes were…less than useful. Their sorcerous bolts accounted for a grand total of five skeletons, all of which came back. And I hesitated to send them into battle, due to their fragility, when I likely should have been using them as chaff. That said, they did manage to adequately distract Rich, as he chased them around the board for the last two turns with a unit of skeletons. The Skyfires also performed at less than optimal levels, after their near-elimination of the Wight King. In contrast, the Tzaangor were a sledgehammer, managing to partially account for a unit of Black Knights, as well as two units of Skeletons. And the Curseling was an absolute monster – with an appalling number of melee attacks, and the ability to cast two spells a turn, Calaspa Bo was the model of the match.

For my next game, I’m thinking about trying out a Tzaangor Warflock – a Tzaangor Shaman, leading two packs of Tzaangor, a unit of Skyfires and a unit of Enlightened. While not as shoot-y as the one I used this time, I have high hopes for it. Rich will probably bring more skeletons.

A lot more…

Next time…more pictures! Possibly of (semi) painted models. And maybe another brief battle report.

The Relevator brought his flail down, crushing a grinning skull. The dead thing fell back into the murky waters, and sank out of sight. Nearby, the braying Tzaangor clubbed down the last of the fleshless warriors that had sought to bar their path. Calaspa Bo watched in silent satisfaction as the way was cleared, and the sounds of battle faded. The corpse-road, and the sunken barrow-citadels beyond, belonged to the servants of the Plumed Serpent. 

The daemon-thing that sprouted from his back squirmed in pleasure as it coiled more tightly about him. It murmured in his ear, whispering to him of the glories of the Great Game, and the wonders and horrors that awaited the faithful in the pavilions of the Plumed Serpent. The answer to the Thousandfold Mystery could be his, were he to prove himself worthy of it. He swayed in place, imagining the beauty of it all. 

A squawk of displeasure startled him from his reverie. He turned, raising his flaming blade high. In its weird light, he saw the bestial Tzaangor crouched around the spot where the Corpse-King had fallen. He made an interrogative rumble, and the Tzaangor squalled in reply. They scrambled back as he thudded towards them, his flat gaze sweeping his surroundings. 

The dead man was gone. And somewhere, out in the dark,  old bones began to stir…

The Horrorists

There’s a brand new, previously unpublished, story up for patrons over at my Patreon page. A dollar buys you “The Cult of the Horrible”, a new Royal Occultist story.

In “The Cult of the Horrible”, Charles St. Cyprian, the Royal Occultist, and his erstwhile assistant, Ebe Gallowglass, head to South Yorkshire to investigate a shady carnival with ties to the eponymous society, at the behest of an old flame of St. Cyprian’s.

If you’re keeping track, this is the third new Royal Occultist story of the year, after “The Black Brotherhood” and “Orbis Tertius”. It’s also the third Patreon story, after “The Black Pullet” and “Barnard’s Law”, both of which you can read if you become a patron.

The Patreon page has been an interesting experiment, thus far. I’ve been fiddling with it some, mostly trying to figure out how it works. If you’ve become a patron or are planning on it in the future – thank you! It’s much appreciated.

As ever, if you’re a fan of the Royal Occultist stories, I encourage you to check out the Royal Occultist Facebook page, as well as the Royal Occultist site. Both of those are full of information about the stories, and the characters, if you’d like to learn more.

The Garden of Plague

Black Library has revealed the cover for my forthcoming Age of Sigmar novel, Hallowed Knights: Plague Garden, due out in June. Take a look!

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From the site:

As the War for the Realm of Life continues, Lord-Castellant Lorrus Grymn leads the battered remnants of the Steel Souls warrior chamber against the sargasso-citadels of the Verdant Bay. The Hallowed Knights claim victory, but at a terrible cost – Grymn is lost to Realm of Chaos. Now Gardus, newly-reforged and fresh from the destruction of the Scabrous Sprawl, must lead his warriors into the foetid heart of Nurgle’s realm in search of the Lord-Castellant, where they must once more brave the horrors of the Realm of Decay…

As you can see from the blurb, Hallowed Knights: Plague Garden features several characters who’ve appeared before. Lord-Celestant Gardus and the Steel Souls made their first appearance in The Realmgate Wars: War Storm, and were joined by Lord-Castellant Grymn in The Realmgate Wars: Ghal Maraz.

Grymn and the surviving Steel Souls continue to fight alongside Alarielle the Everqueen against the servants of the Plague God in The Realmgate Wars: Wardens of the Everqueen, even as the warriors of the Steel Souls take the fight to the enemy in the short story, “The Resolute” in Legends of the Age of Sigmar: Sylvaneth. 

Too, Hallowed Knight: Plague Garden also gives readers a chance to catch up with Lord-Relictor Ramus and the Hallowed Knights of the Bull-Hearts warrior chamber, whose unfortunate experiences in the Realm of Death can be found in The Realmgate Wars: Mortarch of Night. 

Hallowed Knights: Plague Garden will be available from Black Library in hardback and as an ebook in June. I’ll write a bit more about what you can expect from it closer to the release date.

WIPW: Catch Up

It’s been a few weeks since my last WIP post. That’s the way of it, this year. Trying to do one every week seems a bit redundant, since it’s often the same flavour of post, good intentions aside. Anyway, here’s another one.

I’m currently closing in on the 90,000 word mark for Book #1 of 2017. Despite what you’d think, I’m nowhere near the end. As I think I’ve explained before, I tend to jump around in the narrative when writing, working on whatever scenes catch my interest. Which means I inevitably circle around certain scenes because, for whatever reason, I don’t feel like writing them until I absolutely have to. These are almost always fight scenes or transition scenes, where there’s not much character interaction or dialogue.

That said, I occasionally force myself to sit down and work through those scenes when I’ve got several that need doing. That’s what was on the docket for this week – a nice void battle/boarding action sequence, as our merry crew of mutants and madmen are accosted by some unfriendly border guards on the edge of the Maelstrom. This is one of those ‘not-quite a random encounter’ sequences, where it’s both a necessary break in plot shenanigans and also an opportunity for some character development through violence. That said, I’ll be glad when it’s done and I can get back to the shenanigans.

Besides working on the book, I’ve been plunking away at a short story submission for a Lovecraftian anthology I was recently made aware of. Given the theme of the anthology, I decided it was time to revisit Amina Algol and her ghoulish siblings, as they hunt the enemies of the Charnel God, Mordiggian. This time, they’re on the trail of a missing picture and a cunning thief in a story I’m calling “The Ghoul’s Portrait”.

Amina and co. have appeared in two previous stories – “Mordiggian’s Due” and “The Last Song of Iranon” – both of which were fun to write, as sort of Fritz Leiber-esque pastiches of HP Lovecraft’s Dreamlands cycle. This one’s a lot of fun as well, featuring as it does a monstrous mist-demon, night-time roof-running, and a portrait of a god, as painted by the ghoul that was once Richard Upton Pickman. Also, Mr. Nuth.

On the subject of short stories, I’m currently waiting to hear back on a few pitches for Black Library, as well as trying to come up with some ideas for a Sherlock Holmes anthology and a Hollywood mystery anthology I was invited to submit to. I’ve been wanting to write more mysteries, so I’m looking forward to getting stuck in with the latter two, when I finally hit on solid ideas for them.

I’ve also been hard at work on the edits for the stories for Cryptid Clash!, including tales by Willie Meikle, David Annandale and Gav Thorpe. As a co-editor (along with James Bojaciuk) I might be a bit biased when I say that all of these stories of monster versus monster action excellent, but it’s the truth. There’s not a bad one in the bunch. Even mine is pretty good, I think.

And that’s what I’ve been working on the past few weeks.

Deadly Shadows

I have a new Royal Occultist story available, for those interested in that sort of thing. “The Black Brotherhood” finds St. Cyprian and Gallowglass travelling to Hampstead in 1924, on the trail of a shadowy organisation and an obsidian mirror.

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“The Black Brotherhood”, besides being the second Royal Occultist story to be published in 2017, also sees the return of the portly would-be occultist, Philip Wendy-Smythe, who has once again managed to land St. Cyprian and Gallowglass into trouble. It also finds St. Cyprian forced to thwart the schemes of his old enemies, the malevolent Order of the Cosmic Ram, even as it introduces a new foe for the Royal Occultist in the form of the eponymous brotherhood…a mysterious South American society of shadow-walkers.

“The Black Brotherhood” is available as a digital download on Amazon.com and its subsidiaries, as well as on Smashwords. And be sure to check out the previous Weird Heroes entries, “Hairy Shanks” and “Pittailiniq”, both of which are a part of the greater Royal Occultist mythos, for those keeping track.

As ever, if you’re a fan of the Royal Occultist stories, I encourage you to check out the Royal Occultist Facebook page, as well as the Royal Occultist site. Both of those are full of information about the stories, and the characters, if you’re interested to learn more. I may even start updating the site on a more regular basis…

Orbis Tertius

The first issue of Occult Detective Quarterly is now available for purchase, and as is only proper for a magazine with that title, it includes a story by me, myself and I. “Orbis Tertius” finds St. Cyprian and Gallowglass investigating a cursed artefact of a most unusual sort, as a monstrous evil seeks to consume the membership of London’s Voyagers Club. 

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“Orbis Tertius” owes a great deal to the works of Jorge Luis Borges, a writer I find particularly influential. Interestingly, it’s also one of the earliest Royal Occultist stories I wrote, though it took several years for it to find a home. One day soon, I might get up the gumption to put together a series list in order-of-publication, and see if there’s any visible evolution of the characters from their first appearance in “Krampusnacht” to their most recent appearances, coming later this year.

The Voyagers Club is another long existent set piece of the Royal Occultist mythos – it’s appeared several times in the background of the stories, and been mentioned more than once. I hope to dig more into its ethos and membership in the future, because the idea of a bunch of old (and not so old) explorers collecting artefacts and swapping stories just seems like fertile soil for stories.

The issue also includes fiction by Willie Meikle, Amanda DeWees and others, as well as non-fiction by Tim Prasil, Charles Rutledge and more. It’s available to order from Electric Pentacle Press. If you’re on the fence about ordering it, why not check out some of these reviews from Black Gate Magazine, Ginger Nuts of Horror and others?