C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 32
August 23, 2016
Tuesday Teaser
This week’s teaser comes from Bloodlust: Red Glory, the fourth book in the Domains of the Chosen.
This week I’d like to introduce Melia, a businesswoman who lives in the Capitol with her Husband, Darius, and her Daughter Rose. Melia originated in The Great Games, my short story about a night at the games.
To us Melia seems normal and reasonable. Her attitudes are modern and having been raised in a place with no Arena, she sees the games as violent and degenerate, an attitude that most of us would share. In the Domains, however, Melia’s views on the Games are considered odd and unpatriotic, almost insane.
Melia watched as the miniature Gladiatrix jerked to a halt. The idea of a woman the size of her little girl competing against some of the monstrosities that she had seen today turned her stomach. The Ogress with the filed teeth and the leering man with the shadow tricks were somehow even more disturbing than the two fighters strutting through the streets naked.
And yet Melia was filling her purse to the brim, and more, with gold Krassics, all because of the Great Games. Ancestors curse her, Melia was a hypocrite. She wondered if she had sold some vital part of her spirit today, to secure a better future for her family or even just to watch people enjoying her wares.
“Are you alright, love?” asked Darius from beside the food cart.
“I’m tired from all of the running around, Darius,” said Melia, forcing a smile, skirting the truth. I don’t want to ruin this day for my husband and daughter too, she thought. What is wrong with me?
Darius looked at Melia with knowing eyes, but did not call her out. Melia felt a stab of guilt: Darius was a good man, grounded in the realities of the Empire and not given to railing against what he could not change.
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Then she saw Sapphire Kiss talking to Rose while Darius fumbled with a piece of fish. The woman was fully exposed like some brazen whore. Her ‘armour’ was a joke. Anger shot through Melia and she pushed forward.
“Get away from her you skank!” growled Melia, pushing through the crowd, her triumph forgotten.
The Gladiatrix straightened up. Melia was not a small woman, but Sapphire Kiss towered over her. The Gladiatrix’s strange weapons were peace-bonded, but those restraints looked rather pathetic up close. Nonetheless Melia steeled herself and stepped between her and Rose. The crowded street was suddenly silent. Two Grey-Robes were nearby, thank the ancestors.
“How dare you dress like that and talk to my child!” said Melia. “Prostitutes and dancers at least have the decency to cover themselves in public places. Have you no shame?”
“I’m sorry,” said Sapphire Kiss, hanging her head for just a moment.
“Sorry?” said Melia, stepping closer to the woman. “Is it an accident that you are strutting around naked? Did you forget to put on clothes? Did you not notice the breeze between your legs?”
I like the juxtaposition between the two in this obligatory Godiva scene and also between the very moral Melia, and the immoral people she encounters.
August 21, 2016
Hello and Goodbye: A Memorable Weekend
I don’t usually write about personal stuff on this blog. This weekend, however, offered an such impressive juxtaposition of real world events that I am driven to muse about and share it.
The first event is my son’s first birthday. The first picture (blue) was taken a couple of weeks ago, and the red one was from a few days after his birth. The difference is tremendous, of course, just look at the relative sizes of our heads for the sake of comparison.
It has been an interesting year, watching my little man grow. It has seeped its way into everything, including my writing. The Seeds of Ruin was completed about a month ago, and written while he was learning to crawl. The themes dance with his presence and my reaction to his birth.
His birthday was fun, but not too overwhelming, as a one year old’s party should be. We took him on a train ride and to a carousel and watched him eat ice cream by the fistful. It was a profoundly happy day for us and spilled over into the rest of the weekend.
The second event was less sweet, but still profound.
On the same day that we were celebrating the first year of Ronan’s life, we were also shedding tears over the end of an Era. The Tragically Hip, Canada’s Band, played the last show of their latest tour and possibly their last show ever. The lead singer, Gordon Downie, was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer well before the tour was even announced.
The Hip are to Canada as Springsteen is the US. They are my go-to band most of the time. I have always wanted to watch them live in their hometown (Kingston) on New Year’s eve with my Brother and Sister, and we frequently tried to plan how we could make it happen despite the miles and schedules that separate us.
The show has such great meaning for Canadians, young and old, that it was picked up and broadcast by the CBC, our public network, and preempted Olympic coverage.
The concert was great. At times Gord seemed frail and overwhelmed, ready to collapse or break down right there, and yet at others it seemed impossible that he was even sick, that someone of such energy and vitality could be so close to the end.
When they played my favourite song (Nautical Disaster) and then Viv’s favourite (Scared) it felt like a gift. When they ended the concert with one of their most positive tunes (Ahead by Century), in defiance of death and sorrow, it was simply incredible.
Add to that a long night of talk the night before with one of my oldest friends, who just lost his mother, and it has been an odd and memorable weekend, sad and sweet, far greater than the sum of its happenings.
Even now, I am left shaken and awed.
August 16, 2016
Teaser Tuesday
This week’s teaser is from Bloodlust: The Shield Maiden, the third book in the Domains of the Chosen series and the first where the reader is truly exposed to the world outside the Arena, following a former Gladiatrix as she joins the Legions on an expedition to a rediscovered continent.
Bosh smiled: today was going to be a good day. The Ninth Legion was nestled in between two immense formations of Kirif. The Kirif were not as heavily armoured as the Legionnaires, but they showed discipline at least. Their ranks were a rainbow, with each Spire identifying itself with bright colours. [Click]kith’s soldiers wore crimson and a deeper red.
The Kirifan Hoplites fought in phalanxes. The outer three rows on all sides used shields and seven foot hooked spears, while the middle four rows used long pikes. Turning one of these groups would normally be difficult, but the Kirifans divided them into small base units, no more than ten files across.
The Kirifan soldiers stood close enough for their shields to overlap, creating a formidable defence from the front. According to the veterans of the First Cohort, these shields left much to be desired. Their saving grace was that they were extremely light and easy to replace, made from a frame woven from tough wicker and covered in tough alchemically treated leather. These shield were not nearly as tough as those of the Legionnaires and would frequently break after the first few blows. Each Kirifan group had squires assigned to it who would carry replacement shields to the ranks. They supposedly drilled replacing shields in the midst of battle. Bosh would believe that when he saw it.
August 14, 2016
Battle Tactics: The Battle of the Bastards (TV version)
(SPOILERS for Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire)
I am not a huge fan of the later books in GRRM’s A song of ice and fire, so I have not really delved into the TV show, with the exception of when there is a major battle to watch. This most recent season had the famous battle of the Bastards which was one of the most visually spectacular and exciting battles out there. I loved it.
Mostly.
I have a serious problem with the way that Bolton’s spear wall is portrayed. Take a look at the following pictures:
Big shields and a wall of spears… a strong shield wall ha turned back many a barbarian horde hasn’t it? Note that men can easily fit between the spears and despite the length of the weapon it is only braced by two men.
Some unlucky Wilding gets too close to the shield wall and gets an ugly surprise. Note the long length of exposed wood on these spears.
The size of the forces involved. What happens if all of the Wildlings, fearing death, push in one direction?
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Another view showing the relative size of the forces involved. The reaction of any force being squeezed like this is to push back at some point in a desperate attempt to survive.
So the Bolton Spearwall is an odd duck.
The shields are enormous individually, but do not gain the strength that a smaller shield overlapping with a neighbors shield would.
The spears are a long as some pikes but only have one set of extra hands bracing them and absolutely no support from spears further back in the formation. The main deterrent from pushing into a phalanx is that one is always exposed to more rows of spears, there is no safe channel for men to flow through to get to the shields.
Several of the Wildlings are shown making it to the shields. One opens up and delivers a swords thrust to keep the man back. This is great TV, but terrible tactics for a spearwall where it would be far better to ward the front rank with more spears. The sword thrust appears to come from the man in the second rank, which is a pretty long lunge, and that oversize shield looks awful clumsyand hard to get back into place.
I would argue that the Wildlinsg would push back against the shields of the Bolton men. The spear density is just too sparse to stop them and the enemy ranks are too thin to prevent a breakout. Once the mass of bodies is pushing against the shields (which is inevitable, one way or another) it is very hard for the front man to move his shield aside for the man behind him to thrust with a blade. The Romans used shorter, wider shields that they could thrust over.
Some would argue that the Bolton spearwall bears some similarities to medieval spear units, the Roman Legion, or even that the Bolton men are so good or the Wildlings are so unused to formation fighting that they could not get up to the shields to push back.
Fine. What then stops the Wildlings from doing exactly the first thing that leaps to mind when I look at that spearwall: What stops the Wildings from grabbing the spears or hacing the points off? In a true Phalanx the secondary spears could thrust out to prevent this. Nothing at all prevents it in the battle of the bastards. No matter how stupid and fearful the Wildlings are eventually someone is going to hack the head off of one of those spears, or, worse yet, grab them and pull. It would only take three men pulling to overpower the two men holding the spear in the Bolton formation.
The Macedonean Phalanx. One of the pinnacles of formation warfare. The pikes are braced by numerous men and defended by row after row of spear tips that could thrust forward to ward off anyone pushing into the formation.
Even then a true fanboy could argue that I am wrong and it does not have to turn out that way. A particularly cynical chap might say that they were overawed or low on morale, ready to be slaughtered like animals.
Ok. So what then happens when those spears start pushing into the mass of men and getting weighed down by bodies. Each of those spears would rapidly become useless as it pushes into the packed Wildlings. After it impales a few it becomes a liability as the rest can easily surge over the encumbered weapon and get into the Bolton line before it reforms. In a true spearwall the additional spears could be used to push bodies off, but more importantly they provide immediate replacements when the front spear gets broken, pulled away, or becomes unwieldy due to impaled bodies, there are immediate replacements already in place.
I admit I am being picky. Fans loved the Battle of the Bastards. The problem is many of those fans, like my own stepson, will go on to write their own fantasy tales/shows/games and I do not want to see them compound on this error.
August 11, 2016
The Rune 1.9
After much soul-searching, I have decided to write a few short stories, unrelated to the other works, before continuing on with the next of the Shadow Wolf Sagas, just to keep it fresh. As always, this is raw and uncut; enjoy responsibly.
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I awake in a cell, a concrete tomb that has never seen the sun, a barren womb that emanates stillborn despair.
My head is heavy, my eyes are leaden. Sleep in this place is hard and my dreams are unquiet. It takes me time to situate myself in this forgotten place. I am a prisoner, taken for my secret knowledge of the runes. I am cogent, but something stirs beneath the surface of my thoughts. Flashes of deeds and hidden memories threaten move in the deeps of my unconscious mind. Something has happened.
I remember a girl; Andrea, Adrianna, Amy? or was it a man? Andrew, Daffyd, Mikael? There was a gun. Corridors much like the one outside the cell. Monsters in the dark. And Runes, always Runes. Wierder things that I cannot quite grasp. I push deeper, trying to remember, willing myself to recall. But the images confuse me, overwhelm me, like a child leafing through an entire library shelf of books all at once. I feel like I am drowning. I gasp for air and let it go. Something is wrong.
After some time, I gather my wits. I decide it is best not to plumb the depths of my mind in such a place. At least not right now, not in such a dire place.
I take stock of what I know for certain. The easy stuff. How long have I been here? It seems like forever, but I cannot remember more than three days. I know that I failed a test somehow. They know I can see the runes. How did I give myself away?
And, of course, I know that on the wall across the cell from me, like an old companion, sits a rune. Massive and powerful, waiting for me, always waiting for the answer that only I can provide.
August 9, 2016
Tuesday Teaser
It is Tuesday, and time for a teaser. This week I am going back to my second book in the Domains series, Bloodlust: Will to Power. In this book Gavin finds himself in a dark space, seeking revenge against a Gladiator who is considered to be well above him. He is forced to journey to the Killerès Circle, the heart of the brutal Death Leagues.
Bloodlust: Will to Power
The Killer’s Circle surprised Gavin. None of the descriptions or rumours that he had heard about the Domains most notorious house of slaughter captured the essence of the place. The arena was much smaller than the Supplicant’s Arena, seating perhaps a thousand, all in luxurious private boxes. The arena itself was made from blocks of black stone, with tall fluted obsidian columns spaced five paces apart, with bases carved like screaming skulls and capitals carved into the likeness of grinning Gladiators. The fighting grounds were half the size of a standard venue, and cunningly built to maximize the sense of intimacy between watcher and performer. Even the sand seemed a little whiter than traditional, almost as if it had been bleached or perhaps carefully sorted for the purest colour, no doubt to better to show the blood that would be spilled. The entrances were ornately framed and all of the accessories were tasteful, gold, silver, black lace and burgundy velvet. Gavin imagined that it looked very much like the inside of well-appointed mansion.
The ceiling of the arena, however, was a forest of corpses hanging on chains, a grotesque mockery of a butcher’s cold room: the remains of those who had been killed on these fighting grounds. Rabble, Mon-sters, and Gladiators hung there, some whole, many in pieces; a constellation of gore. Gavin had been warned about it, but the sight still filled his throat with bile. If he failed, his body would join that ocean of quivering meat. It was no wonder that Valaran had been so disrespectful to Omodo’s corpse given that this was the league he frequented. Gavin looked away quickly, lest he begin to take in details better left un-examined, wounds and faces. What threw him most was the smell. Despite the forest of decaying corpses thirty feet above his head, not to mention the foul air of the city of Dregs, the Killer’s Circle smelled like crushed roses with a hint of strong, dark coffee and wine. The juxtaposition of savagery and decadence unsettled him; there was no pretence of sport here.
August 7, 2016
Lazy Sunday Teaser
Busy week for me. In the chaos I forgot to write my Thursday serial, the Rune. I did however get to spend some time with my sister, Deanna, and my niece, Grace (almost 2!) and my son weathered a nasty virus of some sort and is almost back to his jovial self. Since I cannot quite do the serial justice tonight, I will wimp out with a teaser from my newest book, Bloodlust: The Seeds of Ruin, which finally has some reviews up on Amazon.
Hilen a shook her head. His idea sounded mad. “Create a Gifted?”
“Yes, I know how it sounds,” said Agga. “Since long before the Reckoning, probably as long as we have known about the Gift, the powerful have been trying to figure out a way to control how it manifests. Breeding. Exposure. Magical experimentation. The creation of entire new races. You would not believe the lengths that Chosen Moltar, for example, has gone through in simple eugenics. But they all failed, and I am not certain I could do any better, so I approached the problem from a different direction. I capture the spirits of powerful gifted and repurpose them, so to speak.”
“I’m not sure I follow. What do you mean by repurpose?”
“I capture the spirit, purify it, and place it in a magically created body; a kind of homunculus. The spirit retains its magical affinity and physical skills but is nearly a blank slate. It is an exhausting process, but effective.”
“Are you going to try that with this thing?” Hilena pointed to the hideous tree.
August 2, 2016
Teaser Tuesday
A little action from Bloodlust: The Seeds of Ruin, my newest Domains of the Chosen book.
The massive projectile shot though the air. To most in the crowd it seemed unnaturally fast, almost like a lightning bolt. To swift-footed Hummingblade, it was easy to measure the speed of the projectile and avoid it, leaving the ice to plunge into the sand where she has been standing, and shatter.
The crowd cheered when they saw how deftly the Gladiatrix escaped the lethal projectile. Hummingblade, however, was more concerned with the Frost Reaver, which closed in the wake of the ice attack. It swiped at her with a huge paw, under which she ducked, and then swung its tusked jaw toward her.
A less skilled Gladiatrix would have leapt over the tusks and struck at the beast’s face, but Hummingblade was keenly aware of a second paw ready to swipe at her, and she leapt out of reach instead. The Frost Reaver was cunning enough to try a feint, it seemed.
As Hummingblade channelled, the beast reared up onto its hind legs, its shadow falling over her, before it came down like an avalanche, trying to crush her with its bulk. The Gladiatrix leapt aside, raking her sword along the beast’s back as it slammed into the sand. Most of the slash was absorbed by the Frost Reaver’s thick plates, but some blood splashed on to white sands. She finished weaving another spell then, a Mind Vice which would cause the Frost Reaver great agony as its brain misfired. She could feel the spell take effect as she cast it.
Undaunted the Frost Reaver, swung its head at her again. This time Hummingblade leapt over the deadly tusks, feeling the heat of its breath and inhaling the carrion stink of its maw, and struck out with her blade. She could have finished the fight then, driving her sword through the beast’s eye and into its brain, but she needed to work the crowd into a proper frenzy. They wanted blood, not a quick, clean kill, and so instead she slashed The Frost Reaver’s scalp, painting its forehead crimson.
The crowd roared and shouted her name as the blood ran freely. It was easy then to see why people like Skaerus might want to turn against the Domains; popularity could only help their cause.
The Frost Reaver, however, was still fighting for its life. It turned and exhaled a puff of freezing particles in a cloud. Hummingblade, perhaps distracted by her thoughts, was caught in the blast. Frost formed on her skin and armour, and she stumbled. Claws crashed into the ground beside her as she careened away, her skin freezing and cracking as the intense cold washed over her.
Then, too late, Hummingblade saw the shadow of the tail in the wake of the attack. She felt an impact like the kick of a bull as it connected with her body, sending her flying back and skidding across the arena. Pain surged through Hummingblade as she tried to regain her breath. Her ribs were broken. Fortunately, the beast’s blow had thrown her well out of its reach. She pushed herself to her feet, gritting her teeth as the ruined, frozen skin on her cheeks and abdomen split. The Frost Reaver was thundering toward her, blood running into its eyes, jagged shards of ice forming above it.
July 31, 2016
Total War Warhammer: Eye for an Eye Beastman campaign review
A fun DLC, if not exactly essential for every player.
I am a big fan of Creative Assembly’s Total War: Warhammer. I make no secret of the fact that I feel it carries the banner of GW’s The Old World long after it was ruined in a bizarre business decision. You can read my fawning fanboy review of the base game here.
Call of the Beastmen is the first DLC for Total War: Warhammer. The Eye for an Eye campaign is the mini campaign included with the DLC, which also adds the beastmen as a playable faction to the all-important grand campaign.
The big sticking point for many players was the cost of the DLC at ~20$ and a few important units (Gorgon/Jaberslythe) that were not included. While I can understand that, I am happy with the DLC overall.
The Eye for an Eye campaign has the player take control of Beastlord Khazrak as he seeks revenge against Boris Todbringer for blinding him in one eye. It is one of the more pivotal rivalries in Beastman lore from the tabletop.
The campaign is fun, and does a good job of showcasing the unique mechanics available to the Beastmen. There were some epic battles and interesting choices for a medium length game and I got my money’s worth for sure. On the downside, it does not allow the player to control any leader other than Khazrak and does not quite have enough depth of factions to offer much replay value.
While the Eye for an Eye campaign does not quite knock it out of the park, the Beastman as a faction more than make up the difference. The units offer interesting variations in each crucial role, focusing on mobility, ambush, and charge mechanics. The minotaurs and centigors, in particular, were a joy to use in battle. The roster, despite criticisms, had decent depth.
I did like that Khazrak could get a chariot mount, but you need to focus quite a bit on any chariot to get the best out of it in TWW.
The main difference between the Beastmen and other factions is how they play out on the campaign map. Beastmen are a horde faction (no cities) that have a very unique set of stances. Their basic movement stance has a chance to trigger an ambush battle on the attack, while their encampment stance allows them to hide from all but the most astute of pursuers. They can also raid for money and bestial rage (Bestial rage is similar to the orc WAAAAAGH! mechanic in that it summons a supporting army if you collect enough). Their forest path movement stance works similar to the underways used by the Dwarves and Orcs, but allows access to different areas and map battles.
The stances make for a faction that can survive by guile deep in enemy territory. Where the other horde faction, Chaos, works as an unstoppable juggernaut led by the baddest of the bad the Beastmen are a defter instrument, able to attack in a variety of ways but lacking the same level of brute power. Like orcs, they are very reliant on support character for buffs to give them the edge in a stand up fight. Gorebulls in particular give some nice bonuses.
Ultimately what made the faction for me though is the moon phase mechanics. Every six turns or so the player must choose from four blessings of the Chaos Gods. Each blessing is a bonus combined with a hefty penalty. Depending on the phase of the moon, these can change the character of your horde for several turns. One allows massive casualty replacement, but at the cost of horde growth, for example. Choosing the right bonus can turn a terrible situation around. Choosing the wrong penalty can really screw you. Once I understood it, I really enjoyed it and began to plan my attacks around it. With a little refinement, mostly in making the penalties more consistent (some are easy to avoid), it could become one of the great thematic mechanics of the game.
Overall I would heartily recommend it to anyone who has an interest in the Beastmen. Eye for an Eye is good, but it is really a prelude to using them in the Grand Campaign.
July 28, 2016
The Rune 1.8
After much soul-searching, I have decided to write a few short stories, unrelated to the other works, before continuing on with the next of the Shadow Wolf Sagas, just to keep it fresh. As always, this is raw and uncut; enjoy responsibly.
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Amy with the gun, looked down, face ashen grim. She stood still, knuckles white around the handle of her weapon, lost in thought.
“Mark them,” she said after a long moment. “They want to follow us… They must want to use us to find the others. That means that they are alive and well.”
“It also means that they know runes. I thought runes were the tools of the enemy?”
“I’ll bring up the inquisition’s hypocrisy next time we meet for tea,” said Amy, recovering some of her vivacity. “But now you understand why I met with you, Gun in hand. These people will stop at nothing to destroy us.”
“Why?”
“… I don’t know, actually. They hate runes, but they use them. Power and control I guess. There are people who can answer your questions better than I can. We need to find them, but we cannot risk leading the Inquisition to them.”
“Can we lure something through the ‘mark them’ rune?”
“I don’t think so. It seems to be keyed to the runes marking the way. It will only mark people who are following those runes.”
“Maybe we are making this too complicated.”
I bent over the “MARK THEM” rune, concentrating. I reached out to the Rune.
“Wait, what are you…” began Amy.
Then I touched the rune. I felt a rush of power, a pure jolt running through me. Then I was flying through the air. I hit the wall and everything went black.
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