C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 38

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.51

Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.

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They say few things terrify a man like being caught in the jaws of a beast. Becoming food has a way of changing one’s perspective, I suppose.

One of the Bloodhydra’s heads caught me unawares, catching me from behind. The only thing that saved me from being bitten in half was my trusty kingsmail. It lifted me into the air, toward the forest of headless corpses handing from the ceiling.  Then it tossed me up. For a moment I floated, weightless, then the the chains of gravity dragged me down, down toward the open maw of the Bloodhydra.

But I am no light morsel to be swallowed alive; I have fangs of my own. My greatsword led the way as I plummeted into the creature’s mouth, and although the jaws closed around me, bring darkness and pain, they soon went slack.

Then, I presume, the now lifeless head fell to the ground. There was a thump, and the teeth dug into me more for a moment, and then my feet found purchase on a solid surface. The thought of being snatched by another ravenous hydra head lent me strength, and I pulled myself from the maw.

One of the heads was on fire, writhing and boiling in the air. The fire framed Berkhilda, standing tall and brandishing her axe as the others dove at her. I saw Git in the corner of the warehouse, and Murith aiming her arbalest and firing at Cinder, who decided that discretion was the better part of valour and pulled one of her guards into the path of the lethal projectile and then returned fire.

A closer movement obscured my view as one of the remaining heads descended upon me. I stood still, holding my greatsword at the ready above my head. The jaws opened wide and twisted to envelop me. Roaring my defiance I brought the blade down with all my might. The shock of impact nearly drove the blade from my grasp. Blood spattered everywhere. The jaws enveloped me but they did not close.

The lower jaw of the head, severed completely by my attack, slipped past me and fell over while the upper jaw reared into the air, gurgling and fountaining blood.

Bull and Renoit joined the fray now, with the big man harpooning one of the heads, fastening the rope to a sturdy beam. The hydra head pulled like a hooked fish, cracking the beam with its efforts. Bull added his weight to the line, holding the head close to the ground while Renoit darted in, a blur of motion that ended with the his rapier buried to the hilt in an eye the sized of a man’s head. Renoit was on the move before the surorsied looking head could fall to the ground, leaping over the body and running toward the back of the warehouse.

I ran toward Berkhilda, who was fighting the last head. As I closed, she sidestepped the snapping jaws, graceful despite her heavy armour, and slammed her axe down on the back of the creatures neck with a mighty splash of blood. Then she raised the axe and brought it down again, stilling the beast.

“So much for the bloodhydra,” said Berkhilda, pointing her axe at Cinder.

My eyes found Renoit, fighting two armoured vampires, with Git and Murith behind him. Murith was wounded, but standing.

Cinder shrieked. “Fucking finish them off you dogs. Now, while they are still tired.”

And her pets came boiling forth from the shadows.

Tuesday Teaser

Another teaser from Bloodlust: Red Glory this week, this one about the Gladiatrix, Hummingblade.

So still was she, standing with her sword held in a classic ready stance, that Hummingblade could easily have been mistaken for a statue in the Dropping Brook rock garden. Quicklings were naturally hyperactive, living in an Empire where everyone else seemed laughably slow. Stillness was not a quality that many of them sought. Years of discipline and introspection had gifted Hummingblade with the self-discipline needed for tranquility.

But although her body was outwardly still today, Hummingblade’s mind was not at peace. She had a decision to make. Word had reached the monastic school of the Flawless Blade, where she trained and was considering teaching, that a Chosen had been killed and that a Grand Championship Tournament would be held to replace him.

Hummingblade had fought in the last Grand Championships. She had been defeated by Sadira Lacivia, the Gladiatrix Prima and eventual winner of the tournament.

The memory of her blade lancing through Sadira’s chest, and the surge of pure, savage triumph that had followed was still sharp. That elation had turned to horror when Sadira had simply kept coming, heedless of the blade in her chest, snatching Hummingblade in an iron grip. The law of strength had been harshly applied. She forced herself to think of the brutal, inevitable struggle that had followed, to face the memory of having her bones crushed and of falling into darkness as the crowd roared her opponent’s name.

The arena was an unforgiving place. Hummingblade was at peace at the school, learning and teaching, following the teachings of the Faultless Blade and the Empty Mind Schools.  She was, however, also a Gladiatrix and that moment of triumph still called to her.

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Then, with shocking alacrity, the massive Berserker dashed forward, both blades raised, cleaving down at Hummingblade. The Quickling reacted by dodging aside but his hook sword caught her armour. She felt herself yanked off her feet, hurtling toward Rabid Edge. The shadow of the cleaver fell over her as she desperately tried to gain control of her momentum. Twisting and swinging her sword, she managed to deflect the massive weapon, which buried itself in the sand beside her head. Rabid

Edge grunted and slammed a boot down into her chest, pinning the tiny Gladiatrix while he hefted his weapon for another blow.

Hummingblade now turned her size to her advantage, aiming a savage kick at the back of Rabid Edge’s knee. She was not strong enough to do much damage to such a beast, but her kick was more than powerful enough to make his knee bend. This foiled his attack and freed her enough to twist out from under his foot, squirming like an eel. Then she shot to her feet, retreating rapidly.

Rabid Edge, however, recovered his balance swiftly, and Hummingblade felt the bite of his hooked blade, slicing into her upper arm and back as she ran. The hook did not catch, however, and she sprang to safety, her feet a blur on the sand.

Rabid Edge did not let up. His style was relentless and he pursued the Quickling with no signs of fatigue or pain, even as she attacked him with mental blasts. Hummingblade felt a spike of despair as her opponent seemed to grow stronger now that she was bleeding; meanwhile she had not really even wounded the berserker in return.

A master swordswoman, Hummingblade is a thoughtful fighter who always faces off against opponents who outclass her in size and strength. She perseveres though clever tactics.

Eventually she ends up with Ravius, a relationship that we will explore further in the Seeds of Ruin.

Sunday Night Teaser

I was going to give a review and comment about X-COM 2, but I am just too damn busy this weekend to finish the game. ARG.

So instead, enjoy a little teaser from the Seeds of Ruin.

Disclaimer: this is very raw text and will change in some form.

Hullripper rose into the arena, black-shelled and enormous. Towering over Hummingblade like a giant, the monstrous crustacean’s scything arm was more than twice the length of her body. A smaller pincer and six legs rounded out its arsenal. This beasts eye stalks were closer to the body and better protected than those that Hummingblade had encountered. Spines like small blades lined Hullrippers back and sides, and the Gladiatrix could see few obvious weak-spots on its body.

Visibly it was a formidable foe, but it was what she could not see that concerned Hummingblade. Scythclaws were feared because of their agility and speed as much as the weapon that gave them their name. Hullripper would lack those qualities, trading speed for size. A swift fighter against a lumbering monstrosity might make for a decent fight in some minor league arena, but not here. The creature must have some mutation or alchemically induced power that would make this fight a true spectacle.

After scanning the crowd, Hullrippers stalks fixed on her, its mandibles working excitedly.

The trumpets sounded, and the chains dropped. Hummingblade wasted no time in casting a mind blast spell. She half expected the beast to resist her magic, as was often the case with more formidable beasts. Instead the spell overcame Hullripper’s resistance. The damage was minimal, but she found it reassuring that her spells could harm the beast. If nothing else, her spells could wear it down.

Hullripper scuttled toward her. Hummingblade trotted toward the beast, watchful. She thought that she might be able to do some damage from beneath the beast, but first she had to deal with the claw. She darted closer, provoking an attack, Hullripper raised its massive claw and swung.

The attack was well aimed, skillful for such a brute, but the Gladiatrix had little trouble dodging the attack. As the blade gouged the sand, Hummingblade shot underneath of the beast, swinging Nib at the softer plates of the joints where its legs met the main shell. The keen blade bit through where the shell was soft and blood splashed down. Before she could attack again, however, Hullripper slammed its bulk down. She skipped out from underneath, swaying aside as the smaller pincer claw snapped at her, then running around the beast as it stood up once more.

The crowd cheered at the sight of blood on the sand.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.50

Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.

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“Fuck you, bitch,” spat Cinder. “Say hello to my BLOODHYDRA!”

The floor heaved. The remaining vampires scattered, scampering up to safer ground. Cinder glared at us from across the warehouse. I exchange a glance with Berkhilda.

Then the floor in front of us exploded, I raised my arm to protect my eyes as wood shot outward. For a moment everything was obscured by dust and debris. Then I saw movement, something big. Six serpentine necks, glistening red and round as a tree truck swayed sinuously before us. The heads were more like that of a shark, instead of something more reptilian, with snapping jaws big enough to swallow a man whole.

“Skygge, this is a sight that few have seen,” I whispered. “I gift this secret to you.”

Two clawed limbs gripped the wood at the edge of the hole that it had smashed through the floor. It heaved itself up and forward, the heads lunging toward us. The heads wove in and out, making it hard for me to keep track of them. Then as they neared me, two of them darted to the side and inward, coming at me from the flanks.

Rather than stand my ground, I dropped back and rolled out of the way, feeling hot breath on my back as something snapped shut close enough for me to feel the click of its teeth. I turned, meeting the baleful gazed of the blood hydra, it surge forward, jaws turning and snapping shut, I avoided the maw, by sidestepping and then slashed my greatsword across the beast’s eye. The head reared up, and the beast roared.

Before I could get my bearings one of the other heads slammed down. I barely avoided being crushed underneath of it. The floor splintered and the head twisted as I scrambled to avoid falling. Jaws snapped at my heel. I found enough purchase to heave myself away as another head came down. I rolled to the side, but it kept coming jaws snapping, forcing me to roll quickly to the other side. This time I gained my feet and lunged as it came, driving the point of my greatsword through the roof of its mouth. The head recoiled.

My stomach lurched as I spotted Berkhilda, caught in the jaws of one of the heads, but she seemed undaunted, hacking at the neck that held her and swatting the other heads as they tried to attack.

Then I saw Cinder, across the room, aiming a crossbow at my companion. I ran toward Berkhilda.

The heads attacking me reared up, and dove, cutting through the air with all the grace and agility of a shark in the water. Cinder was taking aim. I could see little room for error. I veered toward the diving heads, ducking under the first and sidestepping the second. I did not see the third, but time was short. I sprinted, roaring and brandishing my sword, and leapt as Cinder fired.

One might forgiven for thinking that I was putting my body between Berkhilda and the bolt, but that was not the case.

The heads attacking my companion twisted and lunged at me. The bolt hit one of them in the neck.Berkhilda’s axe came down hard, severing the head that holding her. I landed on my feet.

I had about a heartbeat to enjoy my little victory before the hydra bit me from behind, crushing the breath from me and lifting me into the air.

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Sunday Night Teaser

A little snippet from what I have been writing, Bloodlust: The Seeds of Ruin (Domains #6). It is mostly expository, but does not spoil anything interesting, so don’t worry ;)

“Why don’t I forge enough for an army; a Legion of men armed with runecrafted armour and weapons?”

Hilena opened her mouth and closed it abruptly. Agga could see that she was thinking, analyzing. She really was quite clever when not living in the shadow of fear. She was wasted in the Dark Hearts.

The Legions used runecrafted armour and weapons reasoned Hilena. But they were limited to weaker runes. It was not because of the quality of the runes used, although Agga could furnish them with better, it was because an Ungifted man could not feed a greater rune enough power. The same was true of some Gifted even. Hilena had limited experience with pattern enhanced weapons, but she knew that those unused to wielding them would feel drained. A novice Gladiator could not power the weapon of a Chosen.

“So you want to create powerful runic weapons that anyone can use?”

“No, but close,” said Agga, smiling. His tone was like that of a man describing his favourite art project, passionate but genial. I want to create loyal Gifted to wield my creations.”

Hilena 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 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.”

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.49

Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.

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A single sluggish drop of blood, running for from a corpse that was all but spent, lengthened, fighting gravity to the last, and then fell. Landing at my feet.

Many terrible deeds have passed before these two eyes in my time. Even so, even knowing what Cinder was, none of us could have been prepared for what she had done.

For a moment, neither Berkhilda, nor I moved. We were both shocked, I suppose, and Cinder’s goons did nothing to break the spell. I could see them, skulking in the shadows, enjoying our reaction. I could hear them chuckling and licking their lips, eager for more blood even still. I could smell their arrogance.

“CINDER!”

My voice cut across the silence, loud and pure, filling the rotting warehouse.

“We have come for you Cinder!” echoed Berkhilda.

The shadows nearest disgorge a dozen screaming bloodsuckers. Their eyes were full of madness and their fangs gnashed as they came at us, some running on two legs, others on four, and all of them very fast.

A spindly looking man with a fang filled mouth was the first to come at me, hurling himself like a hunting cat pouncing. I swung my greatsword. His eyes widened, but he could not shift his momentum in the air. The sweet silver arc swept through his emaciated frame, turning crimson, splashing blood on the others.

Behind me, I heard the sound of bone splintering as Berkhilda’s axe met yielding flesh. Something thudded to the ground nearby, the blood seeping through the floor as if being sucked downward.

My sword did not rest, cutting the arm from a one eyed orc vampire and then sending a shrieking woman with a lamprey -mouth staggering back with a jagged cut in her shoulder. One of them grappled me, but I smashed the pommel of the sword into his skull as he tried to lift, knocking him down, then reversed my grip and plunged the blade into his back.

More came. The floors shook as they scrambled over each other to get to us. We fought back to back, Berkhilda and I, corpses piling at our feet.

“Die!” screeched a pair of bloodsuckers, flying at me from the shadows. I cut one down, splashing blood on the ground, caught the other with my shoulder and then decapitated him on the backswing. The head, still screaming arced through the air.

Several of them managed to hit me, but their claws could not pierce my kingsmail.

I suppose that they expected us to be fearful after the corpses on the ceiling, or more likely whoever was coordinating their attack simply wanted to wear us down or delay us.

The floor of the old warehouse was littered with the dead. Responding to some unheard signal, Cinder’s fodder backed out of reach.

“Come now, our blades still thirst!” I snarled after them.

There was surprisingly little blood though, it seemed to seep into the floors below us. No doubt whatever lived in the waters below the warehouse would have a feast tonight.

As I considered this, Cinder appeared on one of the walkways around the floor above us. She was flanked by heavily armed and armoured figures.

“I am impressed Ragnar,” said Cinder. “I mean I did not expect my disciples to kill you two, but your hardly winded.”

“You seem rather jovial for someone who is about to die,” said Berkhilda.

“I had this big speech prepared, but I realized that I hate you so much Berkhilda, that I just want you dead now.”

The floor jumped.I heard a splintering sound from beneath us.

“Come and get me then,” answered Berkhilda.

“Fuck you, here’s a bloodhydra, bitch!” snarled Cinder.

The floor heaved.

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Teaser Tuesday

This week’s teaser comes from Bloodlust: The Shield Maiden (Domains of the Chosen #3), and features another of the lesser known characters, a Hearthbound to Gavin named Riritaka. She is actually introduced in an earlier book, but features more here, although I feel there is more potential in the character, as a stranger to the perspective culture.

In his first match for Master Rank, Gavin fought Riritaka, a Spirit-Binder from the people called The Pale. In the end, he had decided against killing her, defying convention. Riritaka’s thoughts often turned to the Gladiator known as Lionfang. The mercy he had shown her ensured that she lived, seeking her freedom in the arena. She was too weak to win often, especially without access to powerful spirits to bind, but she cared little for her record as a Gladiatrix. It was enough for her simply to live, for now.

Life among her people was a distant memory as were the endless interrogations by the Grey-Robes. No longer considered a Heretic, she was as free to travel as any Gladiatrix. She had visited the great cities of the Empire; seen her first snowfall; walked in the bamboo gardens of the Far Isles; fought a Wirn to the death in the Grand Arena in front of more people than she’d imagined could fit in one place. They had cheered her on that day. It was a precious memory, even if it felt like a betrayal of old hates.

The Spirit-Binder often wondered if she was a coward for choosing life over honour, but it was now a philosophical question, no longer a gaping wound that brought sleepless nights and bitter regret. She had chosen life, and that was what she did. She lived.

The Krassian Empire held many wonders, strange foods and interesting people and part of her had come to love it, even though another part of her still hated it. She was at peace with her enemies; books, chipped ice, and Light-Elf men with clear blue eyes were good reasons to live.

Riritaka is an outcast from her people, betrayed by her father and captured by the Legions. As an outsider who uses magic, she is automatically labelled a Heretic and sent to the arena after the Deliberative interrogates her. Here she meets Gavin, who still suffers guilt for killing a heretic early in his career and decided to show her mercy (or perhaps defy expectations, depending on how you see it). After this she fights in the arena for a while in the outsiders league (I don’t have a name for the League where the heretics go to fight if they survive that first Deathmatch) and wins her freedom. Gavin searches her out and she joins him as a Hearthbound.

Sadira looked at Riritaka. The Pale woman was changed, skin covered in spotted fur, features catlike. She moved with admirable silence now that they had shed their disguises, creeping between the great wheels of the juggernaut that housed the war altar.

A Fologi ride had landed them on the coast south of the Deomen, and from there they had circled and entered the enemy camp from behind. They had killed a few sentries and taken their robes as disguises. The Deomen were lax about security now that the battle was underway, especially with Sadira wearing a Gold Mask. Riritaka had bound the spirit used by the mask’s previous owner, a complex weave that had dazzled Sadira. As a consequence the Pale spirit-binder now knew how to speak the Howling tongue of the Deomen.

Riritaka is a spirit-binder, a gifted who wields a form of magic that is unfamiliar in the Domains. She is able to bind spirits and express their characteristics, even shapeshifting to emulate them. Here she invokes some of the abilities of a hunting cat and uses the knowledge gleaned from an enemy spirit to understand their language.

I feel Riritaka, like most of the Hearthbound, has yet to live up to her potential as a character. She works best as a lens through which the reader sees the Domains, but has mostly been stuck in Ithal’Duin so far, which is a weird place for everyone, by design. In Bloodlust: The Seeds of Ruin (still iffy on that) I will be exploring more of the Domains and the idea of heresy in general, so expect more of her.

Review: Yes! Shakespeare

I even like the logo they came up with.

One of the guys in my Saturday game with invited us to watch a play that he was in. (naturally, the best night to go turned out to be on game night, but that’s the modern weekend for you…) Initially we decided to go just to support him, because that’s what friends do. We bought the tickets, arranged who was going to take care of Ronan and fit it into the schedule. All I understood going in is that the play was about high school kids learning Shakespeare, and that my friend was playing Hamlet. The first part sounded, well… kind of like a Jack Black movie, one of the not so good ones; but my friend as Hamlet was something I wanted to see.

To say that I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement.

First off, my friend Ayden, was excellent as Hamlet, displaying both dramatic depth, and since the play pokes fun at the way we all relate to Shakespeare, comedic timing. This was not the surprise, however, although I did feel that he outdid himself.

For a cast mostly made up of high school students and young adults, I thought every single person performed exceptionally well. There was energy, enthusiasm, and effort behind every performance and, because of the play’s structure, almost every character and actor had a moment to shine. The consistency of the acting speaks well to the direction. I did not notice any serious miscues and the players were able to keep the dialogue flowing smoothly and believably, which is tough when you are quoting Shakespeare one moment and then breaking into song the next. It was nice.

But, the biggest surprise was the play itself. Yes! Shakespeare was written by a pair of local teachers. The goal of almost all modernizations of Shakespeare is to show that his works remain relevant. Yes! Shakespeare does this better than most, juxtaposing and even blending famous scenes from the Bard’s best plays with the dramas that many young people have to go through, from young love to broken families. The writer’s love of Shakespeare, and teaching, drips from every scene.

For all that, Yes! Shakespeare worked for me because it was entertaining. The writers, director, and the actors never lost sight of the idea that they were there to show the audience a good time.   I was brutally tired and nodding off before the play started, but by the third or fourth scene I was getting into it. For all of the serious points that were being made, relating the bard to modern life, the play was humorous and wacky, and really went the extra mile to keep me interested.

The ending of the play was quite clever, with the main characters resolving their troubles in a class monologue “exam” using some of the very best of Shakespeare to get their points across to each other. I loved it.

This, more that anything, was the best homage to Shakespeare that a playwright can offer, because, despite the serious intellectual content of his plays, the Bard himself emphasized the value of keeping your audience entertained. You cannot reach a spectator who is dozing, after all.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.48

Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.

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“Do you remember how I said that she wanted to start a war?” said Berkhilda.

“I was thinking she might be in it just to profit.”

“Some people profit from war, Ragnar,” said Murith.

“Imagine, friend Ragnar, if what happened to me, happened to every Vampire in the city,” said Berkhilda. “Most of them could not resist.”

“What’s she talking about?” asked Git.

“Something in that building is triggering a primal hunger for blood,” said Berkhilda. “It is powerful. For a moment, it was an all consuming need.”

“If you have difficulty resisting this, most Vampires will succumb. If Cinder is able to unleash whatever this is, the chaos will be unimaginable.”

“What is the vector?” asked Git.

“What?”

“How is it spread Berkhilda?” asked Git. “Is it a spell, is it something you smell, is–”

“It is the scent of blood,” said Berkhilda. “But very powerful.”

“She might be able to spread it then,” said Git. “Maybe over the whole city if she is smart and well-prepared.”

“The watch would be decimated,” said Murith.

“Garm’s bloody luck… Do we go in?”

“It is definitely a trap,” said Murith.

“Do we have a choice? Could we burn the place Git?”

“That might make it worse,” said Git. “It might even be what she wants us to do.”

“Skygge grant me the insight… fuck it. We go in, we get Cinder. Find out what we can and put a stop to this.”

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After a quick discussion we decided to attack the building from multiple angles. It spread our forces, but it gave us a better chance to get Cinder. I decided to keep Berkhilda with me, in case the scent of blood drove her mad again. Since we had the heavy armour we would be the first to attack.

“Are you ready?”

“Give me a moment Ragnar… I’m sorry,” said Berkhilda. I had never seen the big woman this shaken. The scent of blood was overwhelming.

Berkhilda knelt. I heard her her pray.

“Furis, your daughter calls upon you. Grant me the strength of will to resist the disease that courses through me. Give me the strength of arm to strike down my enemies. I ask only to live the next few moments well and redden my axe with the blood of the unjust. I fear not death, only dishonor. Your name. My dedication. Thy will be done.”

She stood and we moved toward the door.

The Nordan Gods are known to answer the prayers of their people. Sometimes they even walk among us. I myself have seen the Avatar of mighty Hurn stride across a battle and the Spear of Garm fall from heaven to strike down a great foe. We Nordan say that  Some say that it is a kind of mass cultural sorcery, and not a result of faith. It could be true, but it hardly matters when it works.

Twenty paces from the building, I heard a twang and felt something fly by my head. It wasn’t Murith. Berkhilda broke into a run, aiming for the main door. I matched her pace, determined to hit it at the same time. The smell of blood was growing ever stronger. Something hit my pauldron, hard. Then we crashed into the wood.

The rotten warehouse door splintered and we pushed into the building. Berkhilda growled and we cast about for foes. I saw movement near one of the windows on a walkway above us, and I looked up. Time seemed to slow.

The ceiling of the old warehouse was a forest of headless corpses dangling from chains.

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Teaser Tuesday

This week’s teaser is from Bloodlust: Will to Power (Domains of the Chosen #2)

The Cover for Bloodlust: Will to Power

In the next book of the series, the road to ruin/the seeds of ruin I am focusing once again on individual intrigues instead of huge battles. The basic ideas were introduced in the chapters featuring Master Sax and Ravius in Bloodlust: The Blades of Khazak Khrim. For those not familiar with my work, think of those chapters as James Bond meets Spartacus.

Anyways I thought it worthwhile to familiarize people with some of the side characters. Today we will feature Headtaker, one of Gavin’s Hearthbound, who is featured in Will to Power.

Gavin’s second opponent in the tournament was Headtaker, a towering human woman in heavy harness. Her silvered armour was thicker on her left dominant-facing side, complete with an ornate overguarde sheathing her left arm and shoulder. Her main weapon was a long-hafted great-axe with an elegantly curved crescent blade backed by a sledge for extra weight and topped by a long thrusting spike, like that of a halberd. Headtaker outweighed Gavin by at least a hundred pounds, all lean muscle, a physique that only a Gladiatrix could achieve. She was no doubt powerful and aggressive, and Gavin expected to have to weather an early blitz: axe fighters had a strong offence, but the weapon was not great for defence.

Headtaker is by far the most relaxed of the Hearthbound serving Gavin and Sadira. I wonder if it has anything to do with her powers informing her personality.

 “Sweet Ezuis,” Headtaker swore, eyes wide. To her credit she did not hesitate, but Gavin’s spell hit her as she swung, like a hammer-blow to the head. It was not truly debilitating to the hardened Gladiatrix, but it momentarily blurred her vision. Gavin parried her faltering axe-blow. Headtaker finally achieved the power need for her spell. Unable to unravel an enhancement Gavin opted to strike with another powerful mental blast, staggering her. Before she could fully recover he thrust his blade at her throat. She did not try to sidestep. He felt an explosion of power as an unfamiliar spell possessed her. His sword met surprising resistance as it slid off her neck. Her skin gleamed in the sun, shimmering with tiny metal scales. A small trickle of blood dripped from her throat where his sword point had stopped.

  “Ironskin,” explained Headtaker. “You’re not the only one with fancy spells, Lionfang.”

  The Gladiatrix grinned. She hefted her axe, throwing herself forward. She paid little heed to Gavin’s sword and razor-edged shield now; with skin as hard as metal and heavy armour she had little to fear from most of his attacks. She concentrated on attack, battering Gavin with vicious chops and quick slashes. The stalwart defender met every one of her swings, mindful of lessons learned defending against stronger opponents like Omodo. Meanwhile he kept up his mental assault, realizing that it was his only chance of doing real harm to her now. A metal shell did not protect her mind. His original plan, to mind-grip his spear once she forgot about it, would be of little use against her now.

It occurs to me that Headtaker’s signature power is very similar to my favourite x-man, Colossus (easily my biggest complaint about Deadpool). She is a powerful, reliable combatant, trusted enough that she is given command of several sectors of battle in The Shield Maiden and Blades of Khazak Khrim. In the next book we will learn more about her personality and motivations…