C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 16

A Teaser for Tuesday

It is Tuesday and time for another teaser! Here is a little snippet from from Bloodlust: Iron Faction, the Eighth book in my Domains of the Chosen Series.

The air was thick and strange now. As Lignam came closer to the source of the power he sensed, the Shugothoth sent swarms of bees and blood wasps to assault him.

These proved to be a growing nuisance, for though the grim totem quickly broke each wave, close to the heart of its power the Shugothoth seemed more willing to face pain.

Tiring, Lignam paused to channel, tapping into the power of the elements. He did not like invoking the old magic that he had retained from previous lives, but he could not deny that it had its uses. He wove the pattern and cast his spell. After a moment, his armour began to glow with heat. The insects all around him curled up and fell from the air or were simply burnt to ash. Lignam himself was subject only to minor discomfort from the heat.

After several minutes, the insects let up, and Lignam ceased feeding power to his spell, letting it expire. His armour cooled and, as he pushed forward, looking around, he realized that the annoyance caused by the insects had hidden a change in the jungle from him.

The Shugothoth was capable of creating predatory trees and warping living things, but in the place that Lignam’s senses brought him to, it had altered the entire ecosystem. Every living thing was warped and changed.

Enormous trees bore egg sacks containing an army of monstrosities like grotesque fruit. As Lignam watched, one of these eggs split, birthing a multi-headed serpentine creature that proceeded to eat the remains of its own placenta before undulating toward the centre of the infected jungle.

Rotblossom Rose (1.48R)

Welcome to the space where I experiment, my weekly serial. It is written raw, not edited at all, and mostly unplanned.

The world is partly based on the background of an unpublished Steampunk game that I worked on with a few friends, which has grown in my mind over the last couple of years. The story is a take on those ultra-violent revenge epics of the eighties where a man’s family is abused and killed, but he survives and seeks vengeance. Needless to say it is a grim, bloody tale, that deals with bad people doing bad things, so be warned.

Here is the first post of this series.

Here is last week’s post.

<>

Ogre laughed, spraying Rose with flecks of blood.

One of the theories about the warlike Kolim was that he was warpt. The Red could turn anything violent. Rose could now see that this view of Ogre was wrong; it was not The Wraithstone that made him like this, it was a deliberate choice on his part. That made him a more dangerous foe.

“I do not fear death, woman,” said Ogre, gazing at her with hard eyes. “I have killed so many men here that I would not remember him.”

“He was not a man, and you did not kill him here,” snarled Rose. She considered lunging in and attacking, but she could not be certain that he was not baiting her into a trap. He never stopped fighting in any of the hundred or so bouts that she had watched.

The Kolim’s heavy brow furrowed and he looked at Rose intently.

“This is from my days with Lawch,” he intoned.

“It is,” answered Rose.

“Then if you can kill me, it is deserved,” said Ogre. “I indulged in the worst of my desires then. I will not apologize, or show you mercy; I did what I did then to wash away the centuries of torpor that have become ingrained in my people. You could not understand why, nor should you care. I wronged you, ghost-woman, kill me if you can.”

(I just realized that Rose should be wearing some sort of full mask for this encounter, since it is public. – Chris)

Rose lunged, stopping short at the last moment as the massive arms of her opponent swung out to envelop her. She slid around a bicep as thick as her leg, landing a blow on in the soft area behind the kidneys. Ogre merely grunted and turned, driving her back with his intimidating bulk before she could follow up.

Ogre came at her with the relentless physicality of an living avalanche. Rose knew that if he caught her, surprised her, or worst of all grabbed her, she would die. The law of strength would not yield to her need for revenge. Rose kept out of reach, conserving her attacks. Ogre might seem like a dumb brute, but she knew that if she gave him the opportunity to analyse her attacks, he would find a way to get to her. It was a dangerous dance that would only end with one of them broken.

Rose circled the massive man. He was stronger than her, had greater reach, and might even be faster but she was more maneuverable and knew all of his moves. She needed to bait him into making more mistakes.

She stepped in, aiming a snap kick at his knee. Ogre swept his lead hand out toward her. Rose dropped under his arm, landing the blow. Ogre grunted and swung a cross with his other arm as she regained her feet.  Anticipating this, Rose turned and jumped up, spinning and lashing out with her heel, hitting the massive Kolim in the temple with the back of her boot. She felt the shock the impact. Ogre staggered under the hard blow and the crowd around the arena gasped. Rose landed and went for the kill, swinging her metal arm up into a vicious uppercut aimed at Ogre’s throat while he reeled.

But just as she felt the surge of triumph he shifted, catching her metal fist in his meaty hand. With irresistible force he pulled her into him. She twisted, trying to escape. Then he hit her, knocking the wind from her lungs as she felt something give way under the blow. The world turned sideways as the ground came up to meet her.

She really hoped that Geb had decided not to watch.

<>

Rotblossom Rose (1.47R)

Hey all, last week my cover artist, Dan Barclay, started up a Behance page. Check out all of the Bloodlust covers in all their glory here.

Welcome to the space where I experiment, my weekly serial. It is written raw, not edited at all, and mostly unplanned.

The world is partly based on the background of an unpublished Steampunk game that I worked on with a few friends, which has grown in my mind over the last couple of years. The story is a take on those ultra-violent revenge epics of the eighties where a man’s family is abused and killed, but he survives and seeks vengeance. Needless to say it is a grim, bloody tale, that deals with bad people doing bad things, so be warned.

Here is the first post of this series.

Here is last week’s post.

<>

In The Scab, duels are a common sight. The more hot-blooded scions of the bedrock wards frequently settled their disputes with blades and even those not inclined to sudden violence learned to appreciate fencing and swordsmanship as a point of culture. Fighting schools were compared like fine wines, the subject of much analysis and punditry. The same people who frowned on fist-fighting and wrestling as barbaric regarded fencing duels as a kind of high art. Rose was not surprised when most of the patrons inside the tavern followed them out onto the street, lining the walks and exchanging coins in anticipation. Lawch, after all, was one of The Scab’s most infamous duelists, a man who killed more than fifty of his peers in bloody sword-fights before he turned eighteen.

“All that talent wasted,” mused Rose as took up her position ten paces from Lawch. The crowd gasped as she whipped off her cloak, drawing her coilsword with her flesh hand and revealing the gleaming metal limb on the other. “What turned you so rotten Lawch? What drive you so low as to accept money to butcher my children and my husband.”

“It was a lot of money,” drawled Lawch. “And I have always used my talents for my personal gain. Self-gratification is the only true good.”

“Is it? That sounds like a something a rotten man would say.”

“This is The Scab darling… storybook morals will get you killed on these streets!” Lawch shifted slightly and his cloak and heavy jacket slid of with a crisp snapping sound, revealing a pristine blue garment underneath, tights and leathers fit for a proper duelist. “Everyone here knows that I have had some… rough… periods in my life, but they also know that I am the greatest duelist that this place has seen in a long time. I think you will find that in this city, being a winner counts for far more than being a good man.”

“I intend to take you to account on that as well, Lawch.”

“You will find that in the arithmetic of the blade, none can take me to account, girl,” said Lawch. “In truth I doubt you can even handle that coilsword; it is not the best prop for your charade.”

Rose laughed. “If I am but a pawn with memories that are not mine, then I will be dead regardless. I may as well go out with my family’s blade in my hand. Enough talk, Lawch, or is your strategy to bore your opponent’s to death with mediocre insults?”

“No, I like to give the people a show and people like you don’t put up much of a fight.”

“Lawch the Loquacious, friends, if his sword were as swift as his mouth, I would already be dead…”

A few of those among the people lining the broad immaculately cobbled street, snickered. Lawch’s face twisted and he moved, elegant rasp-edge sabre seeming to fly toward Rose’s neck. She deflected the attack and then the blindingly swift follow-up, the same lethal secondary strike that he had used to defeat her years ago. Joy flowed through her as she saw recognition in his eyes. Her endgame had begun.

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Teaser Tuesday

It is Tuesday, and time for another teaser!

This week, an excerpt from Bloodlust: Iron Faction (Domains of the Chosen #8)

It was a dangerous plan, and yet it seemed so full of possibility that Cazius wondered why he had not considered it before. His magic gave him absolute command over the machine, so why not give up his broken body for something over which he had more control?

“Yes!”

Cazius exerted his will. He wove a quick cortex core spell to take command of the automaton body holding him for a single action. He commanded it to gently pull the blade from his chest.

He felt pain as the blade slid out and blood began to stream from the wound. It was a dull pain and he realized that he did not have much time.

Next, he dragged himself across the ground to one of the automatons with a functional power core. Touching it, he could animate it despite its damaged state. He crawled onto it’s arms and took control.

The metal frame lurched upright, his body its it arms. With such close physical contact, Cazius could command it even though his vision swam, and simple weaves were difficult to grasp. He just had to stay conscious.

Every step seemed like an eternity. He wanted to rest, but he knew if he gave in that would be a rest from which he would never wake.

Rotblossom Rose (1.46R)

Hey all, this week my cover artist, Dan Barclay, started up a Behance page. Check out all of the Bloodlust covers in all their glory here.

Welcome to the space where I experiment, my weekly serial. It is written raw, not edited at all, and mostly unplanned.

The world is partly based on the background of an unpublished Steampunk game that I worked on with a few friends, which has grown in my mind over the last couple of years. The story is a take on those ultra-violent revenge epics of the eighties where a man’s family is abused and killed, but he survives and seeks vengeance. Needless to say it is a grim, bloody tale, that deals with bad people doing bad things, so be warned.

Here is the first post of this series.

Here is last week’s post.

<>

Ogre strode across the fighting ground, a wall of muscle. He regarded her with the utter contempt of a being who has crushed everyone foolish enough to step into the ring with him. He did not fear her mechanical arm. In fact, he likely saw it as an interesting challenge.

The called him the Beast here. He had killed over seventy challengers in this ring and broken countless others. even after the novelty of a fighting Kolim wore off and the big crowds went off in search of less predictable bloodsports like drake-fights or armed Gladiators, he still kept at it. Ogre had something to prove.

The Kolim, a bastardized word rooted in golem, are known for their size and strength. They are docile, however, with tempers that almost never turn to violence, even in the city called The Scab. The only way to anger a Kolim is through prolonged, stubborn prodding and torture or with a large dose of The Red.

Ogre was one of the rare exceptions. Before encountering the monstrous kolim, Rose had not given his people much thought at all. Later after feeling his iron strength, holding her down as she watched Mord and Gared killed, and then later again, as the band of miscreants had raped her and Janiye, she delved into Kolim lore. She knew that at one time, long ago, the Kolim were more warlike; she knew that Ogre considered himself an exemplar and a kind of crusader for a return to that time, at least before he had fallen in with Lawch. Now he just liked to hurt people.

The crowd jeered and cheered. Rose was tempted to look toward Geb, was he still even there? but she pushed that thought away.

As he moved into striking range, the Kolim lunged. Ogre rarely toyed with his opponents. This was one of the reasons why he drew such small crowds these days, most of his fights ended quickly; he lacked showmanship. (This might differ from previous -ed) Having watched the big Kolim fight hundreds of times since returning to the city, Rose was familiar with the opening. She shifted and a fist that could have engulfed her head passed be her face, almost brushing her nose. She kicked him in the knee and then danced out of reach.

Towring over her, Ogre came at her relentlessly.  He tried to grab her, and she ducked under a massive hand and backed out of reach, dodging a swift backhand. Ogre was fast, incredibly fast for such a big man, but she knew his moves. And she had been training, secretly, for years.

That day, when Stinknob had pulled out his pox-ridden cock, waving it Rose’s face, it was Kolim who held her still as she tried to wretch. She remembered it well, even among the litany of horror and pain and humiliation. Now she would make him pay. Now she would get her revenge.

Rose lingered just close enough for the giant to reach her. His muscles rippled as he launched his fist at her. It was a move he reserved for faster opponents, a feint into a jab. Rose shifted out of the way of the fake haymaker, and dropped. If she read him wrong, he would grab her and break her. Again.

Her heart thundered as his jab swept past her head. Then, before Ogre could recover, Rose uncoiled from her half crouch, driving her metal fist into the Kolim’s jaw with an uppercut. The Kolim stopped, eyes wide, as blood dribbled out of his mouth. The room went silent.

“That was for my boy.” she whispered, loud enough for him to hear. “You’re going to die tonight, Ogre.”

<>

Rotblossom Rose (1.45R)

Welcome to the space where I experiment, my weekly serial. It is written raw, not edited at all, and mostly unplanned.

The world is partly based on the background of an unpublished Steampunk game that I worked on with a few friends, which has grown in my mind over the last couple of years. The story is a take on those ultra-violent revenge epics of the eighties where a man’s family is abused and killed, but he survives and seeks vengeance. Needless to say it is a grim, bloody tale, that deals with bad people doing bad things, so be warned.

Here is the first post of this series.

Here is last week’s post.

<>

Rose keeps Lawch waiting. They both understand that this is but foreplay to the clash of swords, and even though she aches to kill the bastard, forcing Lawch to wait gives The Spider more time to work his peculiar magic.

Lawch threats lose focus as Rose slowly drinks a glass of decadently expensive ice wine and his eyes dart toward the door every time a woman walked in. He is as uncomfortable with this as she is, which it bearable. The smart move would be to get up and walk away, but he is a bound to her now as she is to him, by his own demons.

Rose affects a slight smile as she sips her wine, responding to Lawch’s comments with a detached politeness that she hopes will annoy him. Inside though, she is drowning in worry. Chief among her fears is The Spider and the hypnotic web of metal that he always weaves in her presence; she can see it now, the blackouts that it has caused, the pieces of her life that she is missing. It might not even be her life; what if she is just another victim with stolen memories?

She desperately wants a hit of The Blue and the clarity it will bring. But she can’t, she needs to save everything for the duel, Lawch is too dangerous to do otherwise.

And yet, her memories seem so real. Yes, she can see the gaps where The Spider has taken time from her. But the reality of that last day on the Road to Avalain is so vivid that it stands strong. She remembers her family, she remembers what Lawch and his band did to them. She remembers the visceral satisfaction of killing each of them, working her way up to this moment. That thought centers her.

In the end it all rests on how good she is with the blade; she can prove her identity in blood.

She does not hear the muttered threat that she interrupts as she stands, throwing down the crystal wineglass which shatters and draws the attention of everyone in the place. Even in this kind of tavern, in this place, everyone loves a fight; it is The Scab, after all.

“Sir, I have a quarrel with you that can only be settled when one of us is dead. You killed my family on the Road to Avalain and sold me into bondage. I will see you dead for it.”

Rose is pleased as an electric thrill runs through the foppish scions of the Bedrock wards and the wealthy merchants watching them.

Lawch grins and shakes his head. “You’re not that girl, and even if you were you would still die tonight. I am going to hurt you, and these good people are going to laugh as you die, just like all the others.”

“There can only be one response to that, Lawch, and I will write it with your blood!”

<>

 

A Teaser For Tuesday

Bloodlust: Iron Faction is out and available on Amazon!

I have not had nearly enough time to promote this one due to a child and all, but here is a sample.

“Juggernaut!”

Vintia felt the rumble of the earth from the huge automaton even before she saw it. It came over a rise in the road like a metal dragon leading a horde of charging brass men.

“Shields Up!” shouted First Shield Drusus, behind her, and Vintia heard the First Cohort obey.

Juggernauts were made for breaking formations. The line would ultimately hold if it connected, but the men at the front would be crushed. Vintia had to slow it down. The massive automaton travelled on wheels, and while that gave it an advantage in speed and ramming power, it meant that rougher terrain could slow it down.

Gauging its route, Vintia drew power for several heartbeats, weaving a powerful spell…

And a little more…

A terrible sound, like that of a thousand out of tune trumpets played all at once issued from the monstrous automaton as it strode over the hill toward the Legion.

Gavin did not get a full measure of the beast until it crossed the hill, striding toward him. The Brass Colossus was truly immense, as big as a dragon or a deep-sea Kraken. The Chosen could feel the earth shake as it walked, and he summoned more power and readied his spells for battle.

“Stand back,” he commanded the cohort escorting him. “Keep the flanks clear if you can, but do not get within its reach. This is a fight that will be won by both magic and by artillery.”

The Brass Colossus did not veer from its path, striding straight toward Gavin, shaking the ground with each stride. The Chosen walked forward, meeting it as far from the troops as he could. Light glimmered on its surface as it charged, and then with a few strides, it was looming over Gavin. He realized then that much of the Brass Colossus’s exterior was covered in the still moving, grasping hands of the brass men that composed its body.

Gavin cast his spells and the air around him crackled with power.

Rotblossom Rose (1.44R)

Welcome to the space where I experiment, my weekly serial. It is written raw, not edited at all, and mostly unplanned.

The world is partly based on the background of an unpublished Steampunk game that I worked on with a few friends, which has grown in my mind over the last couple of years. The story is a take on those ultra-violent revenge epics of the eighties where a man’s family is abused and killed, but he survives and seeks vengeance. Needless to say it is a grim, bloody tale, that deals with bad people doing bad things, so be warned.

Here is the first post of this series.

Here is last week’s post.

<>

Roses’s challenge shocked the room to silence. As a rule, anyone could respond to a challenge, but she stood out. In the Scab oddities are respected and feared, and madness was next to greatness, and so everyone sat up and paid attention. Odds were tallied. Money changed hands.

“Rose, this is insane,” said Geb, standing up.

“Bet on him if you like.” she retorted, already walking forward, her eyes on her quarry.

Ogre was a Kolim. Like most of his people, he was massive and thick limbed, standing head and shoulders above even the biggest man. Unlike any Kolim she’d ever heard of, Ogre was aggressive, leaner and more muscular that his kin. Rose was certain that he was warpt.

As Rose advanced she let her cloak fall, revealing the mechanical arm that she now wore. It was an expensive model with fully articulated fingers and the full range of human motion. It was also stronger and harder than a flesh limb and had injectors for Wraithstone oil built right into it. Odds changed. Money moved.

Ogre was rich. A long career of beating vailglorious idiots to death in blood-sports all over the city combined with the exotic attraction of a docile Kolim ‘gone bad’ had made him enough to retire to a Bedrock ward a decade ago. He stayed in the game because he enjoying maiming and killing people; it was something that Rose could respect.

She looked him in the eye as she entered the fighting grounds.

“I’m going to rip that arm off and sodomize you with it,” growled Ogre as she stood before him.

The part of Roses’s face that was visible smiled.

“You’ve already done worse to me,” she says quietly. She thinks back to that day, Ogre holding her down while Cackles throws her Gared into the cesspit, pushing her into the dirt while everything is taken from her, even hope. The murders, the rape, what more could he do?

“Can’t say I remember you,” said Ogre. “You won’t be the first idiot that seeks vengeance only to die by my hand.”

The referee approached Rose, examining her arm. After making certain the the chambers for the wraithstone oil injectors were empty he turns to Ogre,

“This prosthetic grants increased strength and striking power,” he intoned. “According to our rules such arms can only be used in this kind of fight if the opponent agrees. Do you agree to allow the challenger to fight using the is appendage, Champion?”

“I will allow it,” said Ogre, examining the unmasked side of Roses’s face. The crowd cheered. Odds changed and money moved.

The crowd cheered. Rose flexed her metallic fingers.

“Fight!” said the official. “FIGHT!” roared the crowd.

Ogre began to walk toward her.

<>

Tuesday Teaser

Bloodlust: Iron Faction is out today and up for sale on Amazon.

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Here is a teaser from the book.

… A river of fire flowed past Olius’s house, winding toward the central market square of Terlula’s Pride, the second largest city of The Empire and the jewel of the verdant lands called The Thousand Tongues.

The snaking flames were caused by thousands of men and women carrying torches in the dark. Olius could not see them underneath the bright flames but he knew that they would be wearing the black robes and hoods of the Nullifiers, haters of magic and everyone associated with it. That list included Olius, a well-to-do artificer who owned a Steamwaggon near the city’s expansive port and a small curio shop in the wealthy merchants’ quarter.

With his stomach in knots, Olius watched the progression of the parade. Here and there he could see the torchlight glimmering off the breastplates of the handful of Legionnaires who were keeping the peace. Olius thought that it was possible, likely even, that those torches would be applied to his house if those men were not there.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Yndira, his wife. She sounded angry, rather than fearful, but that was because she had been a Gladiatrix in her early life…

And another for good measure.

... The Wyvern landed on her. Talons gouged into Sadira’s thigh and hip as she caught the beast by the jaws before they could snap shut on her head. Despite the disparity in size, Sadira’s ferocious strength and sheer desperation kept the jaws from ending her. She raged and spat and they struggled until the red Wyvern shook its head, tossing her into the air, and moving with supernatural swiftness as it snaked forward to snap at her again.

Gavin crawled forward toward Sadira. The Wirn woman, obviously some kind of Gifted, slid off her mount’s back and came toward him, drawing power. Gavin reached for power of his own but found only pain as he tried to channel. The Wirn Gifted laughed, weaving her own spell.

“I am Coraxia, you killed my sister, Callabraxia, Mindripper…

Rotblossom Rose (1.43R)

Had a busy day pushing the final changes for Bloodlust: Iron Faction which will release on July 31st and straight up forgot to do the blog. My mistake, friends!

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Welcome to the space where I experiment, my weekly serial. It is written raw, not edited at all, and mostly unplanned.

The world is partly based on the background of an unpublished Steampunk game that I worked on with a few friends, which has grown in my mind over the last couple of years. The story is a take on those ultra-violent revenge epics of the eighties where a man’s family is abused and killed, but he survives and seeks vengeance. Needless to say it is a grim, bloody tale, that deals with bad people doing bad things, so be warned.

Here is the first post of this series.

Here is last week’s post.

<>

“I’m thinking of skinning you alive, what do you have to say to that?”

Lawch’s flawless smile does not even waver as the threat leaves his mouth. Rose is more confused by the prior assertion that The Spider has sent women who look like her to accost Lawch before. It takes an effort of will to push her questions aside and grab hold of the reality in front of her and respond to the smiling monster across from her.

“Seems pretty mild for you Lawch,” she drawls, proud of her seeming composure. “But I guess once you killed someone’s family, raped them, and sold them into slavery you have to fall back to the old standbys. Honestly though, next time we go through this try something like ‘I’m thinking of violating you with my blade’, or ‘I’ll feed you to my dogs’, piece by piece, while you watch’. Just as violent, but not overused at all.”

Lawch chuckled. “Not bad at all. There is just one detail that Oliffer has overlooked, it would seem.”

“What’s that?”

“You speak and carry yourself like low ward trash, darling. Rosaline Redshire was a bedrock girl, as sweet as they come.”

“I killed one of your men on that day. You watched while your men drove spikes into my husband to kill him, threw my little boy into the cesspit to drown in filth, then you raped my daughter and myself.”

“That is true. So what?” Rose was shocked by the casual admission of his crimes. Lawch treated the recounting as barely worthy of recollection.

“How would I know these things if they did not happen to me?”

Lawch laughed. “Every single hypnotized Harlot that Oliffer sends asks that question. Each one is more convincing than the last, but you can’t be the real thing. The girl whose face you wear died a long time ago. You have been Hypnotized by an ugly hateful bastard of a man who thinks he can get under my skin with this. Honestly, I thought we’d settled this when he realized that I enjoyed his little presents. You would think that a man as monstrous as he would understand me better.”

Rose fumbled for a moment, staring dumbfounded at Lawch. Did he truly think he could gaslight her with his tale of hypnotized body doubles?

“What about your men? I killed all of them. I drowned Cackles in a cesspit in the depths and then killed him again when he warpt; is that a false memory?”

Lawch smiled and this time Rose could see that he believed what he was saying. It was then that she suddenly realized what that the chains that The Spider wove between his fingers when he talked were for; he was indeed a

“Yes. People like Cackles lead rough lives. Oliffer has killed everyone who worked the Redshire job with us, and he’s been paid handsomely to do so I believe. He’s has always been very good at what he does. Now why don’t you challenge me to a duel so I can bat that expensive toy out of your hand and start the real fun?”

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