C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 49

Sunday Night Teaser

“It does not matter,” said Sadira. “This appears to be an attack of opportunity. If the beast knew that I was here beforehand it would have sent a larger force. I’m glad to see that our inoculations are working.”

“What would have happened if they didn’t?” asked Sapphire Kiss. She had received the inoculation at Fort Nerus, but knew little about the Shugothoth.

Here is a little teaser for my upcoming book, Bloodlust: The Blades of Khazak Khrim, for a slow Sunday evening.

“It can control anything that it infects,” said Sadira. “Just like it controlled these creature shere. On the second day of the battle for Fort Nerus, some of our Legionnaires and the Vvath were turned and nearly killed me. We don’t know exactly how it does this, but we do know that it works like a viral disease.”

“I’m glad the inoculations work then,” said Sapphire Kiss. “Why does it have such an odd sounding name?”

“It is a Vvath name,” said Telshik, kneeling, examining one of the bodies. “It means abomination. The Shugothoth is a thing of their magic. They try to conceal this though, and say that it is a creature of the adversary.”

“What is the adversary?” asked Sadira.

“A great evil spirit that opposes their Forge Father,” said Telshik, looking up. “Whatever people they are destroying are labelled the servants of the adversary.”

“The Shugothoth has become part of their religion?” asked Razorthorn.

Telshik shrugged. “There are no unbelievers among the Vvath. Those that fall under their power must accept the Forge Father of Khazak Khrim and follow him truly. I have heard tales of the tortures that the masked ones use on my people to make them follow their god. They actually believe that they are helping us by forcing us to accept their Forge Father. It is better to die than to fall into their hands.”

One of the themes of this book is faith, religious faith, patriotism, faith in ideals, faith in love, and so on. The Vvath impose their views on others, offering them death if they do not convert. The Shugothoth and the Sword-Bearers force their views more directly, dominating and erasing those who offer other viewpoints. And yet, every side in this book has its own views and most of them try to impose them on the world in their own way. It is difficult to write about the clash of ideologies without offending people, but a very worthy topic.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.12

Is it Thursday again already? Time to join Ragnar Grimfang, Twiceborn and Exile, once more.

This is my weekly serial. You can find the first story arc here. You can find the first post of this story arc here. And if you missed last week’s post, here it is.

<>

“Murder-Wight,” I hissed, tensing. The ominous figure at the end of the tunnel, bathed in torchlight and shadow, did not move.  Murder-Wights were a dangerous form of undead: fast, incredibly strong, and nearly impossible to destroy quickly.

Git remained silent, his hands already inside his pouches. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were intent on the wight. I did not know what concoction he was carrying that he thought could harm such a being, nor did I want to be around when he threw it.

“Easy,” I whispered. “There may be another way in.”

Before Git could respond, the door behind the wight swung open. A woman’s voice called to us from within.

“Ragnar Grimfang and Git Thunderpants, please come in. I would like to get this over with and return to business.”

The Murder-Wight stepped into the light. It looked like a corpse with its eyes and mouth sewn shut, but its movements betrayed a grace and vitality rare even in the undead.It gave a bow and gestured for us to enter.

“Garm is pissing on us today,” I muttered, invoking the chief god of my people. “Let’s go my friend, it appears we are expected.”

“How do we know it isn’t a trap?”

“If it was, I expect the wight would have attacked us from ambush seeing as they knew we were coming.”

“Good point. Next time we should bring Renoit.”

I walked up the corridor toward The Rarest Reds. The scents of fresh blood — human, animal, and some which I did not recognize — wafted through the air, unmistakable, but not overpowering. To my relief the Murder-Wight stepped into the shop before us, sparring me the tension of having it at my back. It was a big one, and well-armed with mail and a sword and club. The Wight kept moving as we stepped into the shop, coming to rest in a corner.

“He doesn’t bite,” said a voice, close to my ear. I turned, nearly jumping, and found an elegantly dressed woman standing next to me. I took note of her pale skin, green eyes, and red hair. She smiled at my discomfort. “I on the other hand would pay a gold bar for a pint of you.”

“Come again?” I asked.

She smiled, showing me her teeth. A vampire. But a pretty one, and not hostile. Git poked me, as if it to remind me of our task, while Zara sauntered away. The shop was well appointed, especially for a place in the Undercity market. With dozens of works of art, landscapes and nudes mostly, and expensive looking fixtures. I did not see any blood, save for ten small vials on a carved obsidian pedestal.

“How did you know we were coming?”

“It pays to keep an eye on the movements of the Undercity,” she said. “I am Zara. This is my shop.”

“How did you know to look for us?”

“In a word: Cinder,” said Zara, her smile fading. “That bastard has been no end of trouble. He used to work for me until I found out that he was turning street toughs.”

“You don’t approve?” I asked.

“I have lived through enough periods where my kind were hunted down like dogs and left to burn in the sun,” said Zara. “Cinder is reckless. Violent. He dreams of dominion with our kind ruling over herds of mortals.”

“You don’t share his dreams?”

Zara snorted. “We all fantasize about power Nordan. But why start a war when I can buy and sell of the blood I need. I live a comfortable life and I intend to survive for a very long time. Ruling from a throne of skulls only paints a target on your back for every other maniac. Cinder was a fool.”

“I take it he left on bad terms?”

“He wrecked a small fortune worth of stock and tried to strike me. My guards are most capable, however.”

“Can you help me find him?”

“Normally that kind of information would cost you a pint,” said Zara, eyes flashing for a moment. “But it would serve me well if Cinder was put to rest before his schemes cause me more trouble. I have a list of his current haunts. You will find it in the red envelope on the pedestal by the door on your way out.”

“I thank you,”

“You can thank me by leaving quickly. I have more business to attend to this evening.”

I nodded, and seeing nothing to rouse my ire in the little blood-shop, I turned to leave.

Zara’s voice tickled my ears as we left. “Be careful Twiceborn, I would hate to see blood like yours go to waste!”

Teaser Tuesday

Barely on time… here is a teaser from my upcoming book Bloodlust: the Blades of Khazak Khrim. Zellin is one of the titular characters, a Sword-Bearer. The Sword-Bearers have their spirits bound to blades that they forge during their life  in Khazak Khrim in the hopes of surviving death and living again by possessing the bodies that wield the blade. They were the primary antagonists in Bloodlust: The Shield Maiden, and in this book I examine them more closely.

Before the entrance to the Eleventh Hall stood the Temple Guard, an elite force of Sword-Bearers wearing fearsome war-bodies and ornate armour. Blades at their side, they carried ceremonial Lucerne hammers and round shields bearing the face of the Forge Father. Zellin had once stood among those ranks, a happy time in his life before duty called him to the outside world.

Part of him resented that duty. The Halls of Khazak Khrim were comforting and grand, the centre of the Vvath Empire and the world beyond, a bastion of purity and piety. Beyond these halls there lay nothing but inferior races and their alien, awful civilizations that all needed purification or simply to be destroyed. He could easily live out his life here, and know endless happiness. But he was called to be a Sword-Bearer, the sheath himself in corrupt flesh and protect Khazak Khrim from beyond the walls. It was both a great honour and an overwhelming burden. Right now, it dragged on him. Zellin made a note to seek purification for this weakness when he could.

After a long moment’s admiration he wrenched his gaze from the temple and walked on, down a deep winding corridor that plunged into the depths, toward the Twelfth Hall where the Sword-Bearers made their home.

The Twelfth Hall was foreboding and Spartan, humble like those who dwelt there. None of the Sword-Bearers looked at his Kirifan form with disgust. They were all used to seeing their brethren in strange bodies. Many of those here knew Zellin by his blade; few Sword-Bearers were inspired to make weapons that were suited for subterfuge and excruciation rather than for war. He longed to sit and speak to old friends; only they knew the trials and triumphs of his office. But duty drive him onward to report to the eldest.

Zellin passed through the centre of the hall where a massive form shifted slowly through the ancient forms of the Eleventh Kata, surrounded by silent Sword-Bearers. Despite its size the creature moved with enviable grace, finishing each step with crisp precision. The Blade wielded by the form was familiar, one of the great war-swords of a senior Sword-Bearer.

Passive versus active media: Why I prefer games and books to movies and television.

Recently I was told that I was overly critical, especially of movies. While I don’t agree, having met and sometimes been the target of people who are truly withering, it did get me thinking.

I don’t really like movies and television as much as I enjoy reading and playing games. At first I thought that I preferred reading and gaming because they were my first loves and primary form of entertainment as I grew up.  While this is no doubt partly true, my tastes have changed over the years and I have become more jaded about games and books, but I still always find myself coming back to those forms.

Interestingly, I expect less from television and movies. Television, in particular, has such a low bar for me that I am always astounded when I find a show that I enjoy. Since we apparently live in the golden age of television, this means that I am often exceedingly happy with whatever show we are watching, which is strange. As a plus there are more and more genre fiction shows on TV as well, from Game of Thrones to Daredevil.

Movies too, tend to be aimed more in my direction these days. Yet, I while I enjoy these more than I ever have I am far more critical of them than games and books. I find myself searching for faults, specifically things that I would change when I consider a movie or TV show in hindsight. In books and games, I find myself looking for the diamonds, enjoying good systems in otherwise crappy games or interesting ideas that shine out like diamonds from the pages of a book that is otherwise lackluster in my eyes.

As I considered this, I came to the conclusion that the difference was because TV and movies are generally passive entertainment, while reading and gaming have a more active component. Games have player agency (when they don’t they make me angry), while books require that I interpret the text and paint a picture in my mind, often filling in extra details.

Thus while I enjoy movies and TV almost as much as games and books, I am more critical of them because my primary forms of entertainment furnish me with input and agency, so the criticism is often the only form of input that I have with them. Of course, movies and shows that require more thought and have more to digest thus escape criticism from me, because they invoke a sense of agency.

Something to keep in mind if you read any of my reviews :)

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.11

I’m done with the bracket. Honestly, I don’t know why either. Regardless be it (2.11) or 2.11, tis the hour of the wolf!

This is my weekly serial. Here is the first series, in full. Here is the first post of this series. Here is last week’s post, also of this series.

I counted out ten gold pieces and handed them to the guide, trying not to wince. Git’s eyes followed the gold automatically as he chattered on about some sort of mold he wanted to buy tonight.

I could have bought a small house in the city for that sum, but in the end I did not balk. The only metal vengeance cares for is weapon’s grade.

The guide looked the coins over, put them into a rugged pouch, and then looked me in the eye.

“I’ll take you to the Rarest Red, as fast as you are able.” she said. “You will follow my instructions without question. If you try anything ugly, I will abandon you. My friends have seen you, and will come knocking if I go missing. Understood?”

I nodded.

“We would never dream of harming you, my dear,” said Git.

“Right, keep five paces behind me and watch for my signals,” said the Guide.

We set off at a brisk pace. Git kept talking, something about the properties of salamander’s tongues and gin. This close to the guide’s hub the tunnels were crowded. Most of these people were sightseers from abroad willing to pay a premium for a safe “tour” of the undercity markets. Most of these were wide-eyed and kept very close to their guides, There were also regulars, people who had frequent business here, striding purposefully to their destinations. Most of these would have invitations to the shops they were seeking, along with instructions on how to find them. Things always moved around in the undercity. The brightly coloured mohawk on our guide stood out, making her easy to follow in the crowds.

After a few rapid turns and an iron rung ladder downward, people thinned out. Our guide seemed to relax and slowed a bit.

“Do you ever miss exploring the deeps, Ragnar?” Git’s question penetrated my thoughts.

I met Git and Renoit, among others, exploring the “deeps” the ruined, dangerous parts of Myrrhn that were uninhabited save for vermin, monsters, and worse. Bounty-hunting and treasure seeking mostly. It was a dangerous way to live, but potentially lucrative.

“I do, actually,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember the sunken temple?”

“The one with the Kraken?” I made a sour face. We lost friends that day.

“Yeah,”

“I think I understand what the cult was about–“

Questions flooded my mind. We never found out what the cult of the Kraken was doing in that sunken temple. It was a sore point with me still. I could still remember that first tentacle shooting out of the water and the chaos that followed. I was about to ask Git what he was talking about when the Guide suddenly halted. Her hand shot up, signalling us to silence. We stopped.

The Guide turned back to us. She looked us both in the eye.

“This is a close as I will take you.” she said, “You know what this place actually is, right?”

“Yes, we are not here to make a donation sister,” I said, patting my axe.

“I don’t want any part of it.” said the Guide, putting up her hands. “Rarest Reds is down that tunnel right there. If I don’t see you by second bell, you are on your own.”

I nodded. Git followed me down the tunnel. There were no lights, but both Git and I could see well enough in the dark of the undercity. As we closed in on the shop the smell of blood became stronger. Other scents tickled my nose and I paused, putting my hand on Git’s shoulder as we caught sight of a figure just ahead of us.

“Murder-wight!” I hissed.

Teaser Tuesday

An old favourite makes his return for a bit of cloak and dagger. This addition came to me after a fan requested more about the Blackcloaks.

Sax trailed his prey. The trees were close to the road and the hills were dark with twilight. There was no one else in sight. The rough wooded hills near Dun Loryn had few travellers on them at this time of year, and so he had to follow out of sight. The man was cautious and Sax sensed that was now suspicious.

Of course, that was part of the game that they both played. Suspicion caused people to make mistakes and Sax had brought about the downfall of more than one careful heretic simply by letting himself be seen once too often. This stretch was the perfect place to set up an ambush.

Sax’s quarry had switched clothes, waggons, and even faces several times. Sax could almost admire him. Only the most experienced agents of the Deliberative would not have been thrown off the trail by now. Even a Chosen would have been fooled, unless it was Mordhawk or his old student Gavin.

Chosen Gavin. It was a disappointment in some ways. The boy would have made an excellent Blackcloak.

A sound from the woods alerted him to danger. A subtle change in the air as a dozen arrows shot from the trees on both sides of the road. Bandits hired to kill him; perhaps it was time to play dead.

Teaser and Commentary — adding minor characters to flesh out my epic fantasy.

The following is a scene I recently added to Bloodlust: The Blades of Khazak Khrim, the upcoming novel in my Domains of the Chosen Series. It is still fairly raw, although I did fix one sentence where I used the word enough three times.

“Candidates!” the prince’s voice carried clear and strong over the sound of the waters. “This is the final obstacle between you and your destiny. If you survive these waters you will join The Blood. You will be elevated to the status of Nobility and all of the rights and privileges of your station. You will be blessed in the eyes of the Forge Father and your offspring will have the right to train to join the Blood. Your clan will be honoured as well. I am often told to emphasize the harshness of the cold waters and the difficulty you will face holding your breath for the long minutes required to claw your way across. But I would rather tell you of what wait you on the other side. The warmth of fire and feast, women to serve you, and above all the honour of standing with me as we defend these sacred halls and earn our place at the Forge Father’s right hand!”

Durekk cheered.

The first dwarf lowered into the river was Herlin of Stonebreaker. The fast-flowing waters of the channel were so deep that only the tip of Herlin`s back-banner stood out, yet they were clear enough that he could see the other man’s form well.

Herlin began to push against the waters. He made it a about halfway paces before he paused. After a breathless moment, the banner began to move again, more slowly this time. Then less than two paces from the ramp, it shuddered to a halt once more. Several voices, led by the prince shouted encouragement. The banner twitched for a moment. Then stopped. The cheers slowly grew silent. They hooked Herlin’s banner and pulled his body out of the water to return the armour and the corpse to his clan. They treated his body like that of a warrior, despite his death. At this stage in the testing, even failure was an honour.

Durekk is a new character, one that I felt compelled to add after I finished the first draft of Blades.I tend to have minor characters here and there in the books, mostly to flesh out the world and avoid exposition without action. A minor character allows me to show the reader a part of the world that the major players don’t get to see. When possible I like to draw these characters from previous works, someone familiar for the reader to latch onto. In this case, however, there are very few familiar faces among the Vvath, with only Twin-Swords being familiar to readers.

Minor characters also have potential for larger roles later on, like many of the fighters in the Bloodlust: Red Glory. Blue Hornet is a good example of this, having become a big part of the series after being a rival fighter in Bloodlust: A Gladiator’s tale.

Durekk is one of The Blood, the warrior-nobility of Khazak Khrim. I wanted to show the reader the aspects of some of that warrior cult, which, like historical warrior cults is very admirable and heroic in many ways, and yet alien and grotesque in others. Durekk allows me to show you what The Blood are like from the inside, which is far more interesting than a clinical analysis.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Red Fangs 2.10

Tis Thursday once more and time for some Shadow Wolf.

You know the drill, here is the first post of this arc.

Here is last week’s post.

I looked at the envelope, handed to me by Carmen the Assassin-Pup. It contained the name of the Vampire who had turned Curran in exchange for Delilah’s blood.

Truth be told, I never really expected Carmen to complete the task I set for her, and certainly not so swiftly. It seemed unlikely that she was setting me up with this missive. Giving me a name as a way of leading me into a trap was not enough for an assassin to concoct a good plan, especially when I would be preparing to confront an exceptionally dangerous enemy.

But Carmen had delivered what I asked. And so it fell to me to decide how far to travel down the path of vengeance. Curran was dead. Killing another Vampire would not bring back Delilah. And there was a bounty on any Vampire feeding illegally in Myrrhn.

“Be careful what you wish for Ragnar,” I muttered, taking a swallow of good mead.

Vampires are rare among the Nordan. It is still law in the north that they must be destroyed. In Myrrhn is more complex. Vampires have a right to exist, but it is illegal for them to feed and turn others without permission. That law is attached to an impressive bounty, both for informers and enforcers, which ensures that the city’s population of Bloodsuckers is kept under control.

Of course, wealthy and powerful Vampires could afford to break the rules, just like any other rich Myrrhnese.

Curiosity forced my hand. I opened the letter.

Immediately the sweet scent of sickle flowers filled my nostrils. I growled. Carmen showing off again, just when I was starting to like her. I pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Ask for Cinder at The Rarest Red in the under-city shops.

I smiled. A blood merchant with a shop in the undercity, Myrrhn’s black market. A vampire grown fat off selling illegal blood. It seemed easy enough for me to hunt down this Cinder and finish the job. I would need someone to watch my back, however: the undercity is never safe.

<>

“What kind of Vampire is Cinder, Ragnar?” asked Git.

“I don’t know, does it matter?” I was focused on finding a guide. The Undercity was a rambling maze that shifted every night. The only way to find a particular shop, other than by invitation or blind luck, was to hire a guide. Undercity guides explored the shifting geography of the marketplace and sold their lore to those who needed to boy. Given the danger involved in running the undercity, the services of a guide ranged from expensive to astronomical.

“Of course it matters,” said Git. “You would not want me to throw thrice purified garlic oil on on a Jitari Bloodline.”

“Will they all die if I cut off their heads?”

“Yes,”

“Fire?”

“Yes.”

“Then I expect we will manage it, my Goblin friend,” I said. I was certain that just wanted to try out some special concoctions. “After we’ve dealt with Cinder we can chase down your ingredients.”

“You pay for the Guide.”

“Of course.”

It took us some time to find a likely guide. I let it be known that we were looking for The Rarest Red. Eventually a rugged looking orcish woman, younger than I would have expected for an undercity Guide, approached us.

“You looking for The Rarest Red?” she asked.

“We are.”

“You want directions or do I take you there?” she asked.

“Take us there and wait nearby. Afterwards we will need you to guide us to a few ingredients shops. How much?”

“10 gold, Myrrhnese or Thraxian coinage accepted.” she said.

I raised an eyebrow, but I was in no position to haggle.

Teaser Tuesday

Well the first draft of Bloodlust: The Blades of Khazak Khrim, fifth book in the Domains of the Chosen Series, is finished, and so tis time for teasers once more!

As always, if you are interested in being a beta reader, let me know.

Gavin stood on a balcony of living coral, high up on a purple spire, looking out over the ocean. The light of the setting sun cast his Lion-headed shield, freshly polished, in glorious silver and reflected red. He was considering how strange and wondrous it was to watch the sun sink into the blue horizon to the west, when for most of his life it had risen over an eastern ocean and then set over land. Living on the west coast where the greatest glory of the sun came as it fell into darkness, what kind of effect would that last light had on Kirifan culture? Could Jika’Ri be the natural result of a philosophy distilled by so many sunsets?

The thought reminded Gavin of how little he really understood about Kirifan culture. Just today he had glimpsed a Gifted Fologi, a great black beast with the unmistakable pattern of a magic wielder. The size of a small sail craft, the beast had passed by them, a golden skinned Kirifan woman riding on its back while its smaller brethren formed an honour guard in its wake. The appearance of such a creature had shocked him, provoking gentle mockery from Sadira. No doubt Kirif and Ithal’Duin held many such surprises for them.

This scene, from early on when the cast returns to Kirif, still needs a bit of work. Much of it is meant to remind the reader that they have moved from Krass, which was the locus of the action in Bloodlust: Red Glory, back to Kirif, the Spires, and the “lost” land of Ithal’Duin.

Points to anyone who can identify the Golden skinned woman riding the Gifted Fologi :D

First draft of Bloodlust: The Blades of Khazak Khrim done!

Here is how I am celebrating :D