C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 64

Teaser Tuesday

With the upcoming release of Warbound: The Shield Maiden, third in the Domains of the Chosen series (July 17th), it is time, once again, for for teasers!

“I often feel like a pawn in the games,” said Gavin.

“I felt that way too,” Liam Valcoeur did not look up from his work at the anvil, but a slight pause spoke of rumination to anyone who knew him well enough. “My way out was to take myself off the board… I don’t rightly know if it’s truly possible.”

“How about you Sax?” asked Gavin.

“Some pawns just keep moving forward,” said Sax, breaking into a grin that slowly passed around the room.

“Let us know when you reach the other side,” said Liam.“Speaking of making it, I’d wager that you never truly even expected to make the short-list for the Grand Championships, my son.”

“Easy odds,” snorted Sax, examining the blade of his greatsword, Countess, for flaws, especially where the magic of the runes might warp the metal around them.

Warbound: The Shield Maiden actually begins during the period covered by the end of Bloodlust: Will to Power. Warbound takes place outside the arena, following an important expedition as it crosses into the once-lost continent of Ithal’Duin.

One of the central themes is home, and here we see Gavin enjoying some of this with his father and Sax. I felt that I needed to define these relationships a little better. All of the central characters have a home life of some sort, guiding their actions. As someone who was brought up as an orphan, Gavin is just rediscovering his.

Classic Characters: Roland, the original Paladin

Roland’s last, defiant act.

Roncevaux n many ways the Frankish king, Charlemagne was the King Arthur of the continent. He was a real historical figure, a man of great accomplishments, both military and civic. Those can wait for another day, however, since for discussions about the Frankish hero, Roland, the body of legend that surrounded king Charlemagne is more important. In these legends Charlemagne is a figure of surpassing benevolance, the king who saves all of Christendom from the Saracens, and establishes a shining perfect court that is every bit as impressive as Camelot. Roland is one of the figures who spring from from this legendary court, immortalized in his own epic cycle, the Song of Roland.

The Song of Roland is loosely based on  Battle of Roncevaux (778). Very loosely. In the real world it was a battle between two Christian forces, in the mythic version it is a grand conflict between Christian and Muslim. The Mythic version is far more interesting, especially to Fantasy enthusiasts. Here is a basic outline of the Song of Roland.

Roland is a mighty, fearless warrior, one of the twelve peers of Charlemagne. Interesting side trivia, the term Paladin originally refers to these exemplary knights (first as companions of Roland, then Charlemagne), but comes from a later work than the Song of Roland itself.
Roland has a great horn, called the Olifant, and an unbreakable sword called Durendal. Both of these names crop up in fantasy fiction. In Michael Moorcock’s work Elric seeks out the horn to signal the end of his age, IIRC.
Roland also has a treacherous stepfather, Ganelon.
When Roland nominates Ganelon to bring an important message to the Muslim King of Spain, Marsiles, seeking peace. Ganelon accuses Roland of trying to gte him killed. Ganelon then uses his position as messenger to plot with the Saracens and ambush that pesky Roland.
After the peace is signed, Charlemagne’s army leaves. Roland leads the rear-guard, with a hand picked force of kinghtly badasses, including the Archbishop Turpin a warrior-priest who wielded a mace to avoid shedding the blood of his foes (And thus doomed Clerics in many versions of D&D from ever enjoying the awesome might of the d8/d12 longsword).
A huge horde of the enemy attack the rear guard, but Roland refuses to blow the horn to signal Charlesmagne, feeling that his men are more than a match for the Saracens.
Roland and his men fight with unsurpassed valour, but in the end they are overwhelmed. Roland recognizes his mistake, and blows Olifant so hard that his temples burst, killing himself instantly. His body is born away to heaven by angels.
Marsiles, wounded by Roland in the battle, later succumbs.
Charlemagne arrives to find his rear guard dead and sets upon the Saracens who killed them, killing most and winning a tremendous victory.
Ganelon is put on trial, convicted of treason, and pulled apart by horses

From the Song of Roland, other authors added details to Roland’s early life, fleshing out his friendships with other characters in the tale and adding to his deeds and adventures. Eventually mythical enemies began to appear in his tales, such as Ferracutus, a giant who is invulnerable all over, except the belly-button.

As a historical character we know almost nothing about Roland, other than his listed death at Roncevaux, perhaps this lack of lore unfettered the imaginations of all those who ended up embellishing his tale. Who knows?

Roland, aside from being an example of how a popular character can grow throughout the ages, exemplifies several interesting features of classical characters.

Duty & Virtue: Not all knights are virtuous in the old tales, but the good guys shine far more brightly than modern heroes often do. Rolan embodies the virtues of the aristocratic warrior.
The fatal flaw:  Unlike Lancelot, who is undone by his vices, Roland is actually defeated by what is arguably a strong point. His courage boils over in over-confidence, and his predictable adherence to duty allows Ganelon to set a trap for him. This is a little more modern, but it is presented with a great deal less cynicism than one might expect.
Certainty: Like most pastoral heroes Roland is possessed of certainty. His faith and his loyalty to the King are unshakable. Even his realization of his mistake is quick and he does not angst over it. Of course his certainty might seem like prejudice if viewed from an outside perspective, but that is another trait common to pastoral fantasy.
Martial Perfection: Roland is a peerless fighter, nearly able to overcome a terrible trap simply through strength of arms.
Sacrifice: Roland unflinchingly sacrifices himself in the name of faith and duty, the antithesis of more modern heroes. The symbolism of his last act, blowing Olifant to warn and summon the King, defiant unto death is perhaps what seals him in the ancient imagination.

In comic book terms Roland is more of a Superman figure than a Batman figure. In direct confrontations he cannot be overcome, and thus his enemies are reduced to scheming and treachery to defeat him.

The influence of Roland extends deep into gaming culture. The term Paladin has be synonymous with the kind of good, divinely inspired knight exemplified by Roland. You can find Paladins not only in Dungeons and Dragon, but in World of Warcraft and other computer games. Always, they follow the same archetype, making it one of the more consistent Fantasy tropes out there. Roland is at the heart of this, firing imaginations even in an age when the assassin is a more common protagonist than the knight.

P.S: the use of Roland in Borderlands II is quite excellent, both using the tropes, adapting them, and subverting them.

Roland from Borderlands, as Roland…

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.13

Time for my weekly serial, following the adventures of Ragnar Grimfang, Nordan Twiceborn in the Great City of Myrhn. As always it is written in raw draft style, mostly as practice.

New to Bladebreaker? (start here)

Missed the last one? (here it is!)

“Hello handsome, looking for a wild night?”

The whore in question, a woman who went by the name of Désirée, gave me the kind of slow simmering smile that will have all but the stingiest merchant scion melting reaching for his coin before he realizes he’s cooked. I tore my eyes from full, crimson lips, artfully painted, and focused on the task at hand.

“I’m here on business actually,” I said.

“Too bad, I’m more into play myself…” said Désirée, giving me a heart-rending pout. I was mildly surprised that she didn’t drop the act, or the glamour that made her seem to shine as if standing under the perfect like of the full moons. I found myself wondering if she really had an interest in me. It took me a moment to squash that foolish thought.

“This is about Sapphire,” I said. “I saw you speaking at her funeral.”

Désirée’s face fell, her great green eyes beginning to water.

“Why should I talk to you about that?” she asked. A large tear, diamond-like in the glamour-light, left a shining trail on alabaster skin.

“Madame Glorianna has retained my services to find the killer.” I responded.

“That should be easy enough,” she said, turning away from me. I tried not to drink in the shape of her body, clad in a tight evening dress of  cream and crimson silk, accented with white lace and pearl. I tried, but failed. I am only a man, after all and even one death could not cure me of my earthy desires.

“How so?” I asked.

“Sapphire only had one regular in the Guild,” said Désirée. “High up, a rising star among the Nightblades. She liked to brag about him, his wealth and his skills in bed. He gave her little gifts and didn’t seem to mind what she did to get ahead. I guess he just got jealous when she started seeing a lot of that big Nordan lad.”

“Did Sapphire have other regulars?” I asked.

Désirée laughed, a bitter note threading its way into that golden symphony. “To work at the Pearl, my lovely Nordan, a whore has to have at least a few high society clients who are willing to sponsor her. The room fees are far too high for any discount doxy. Don’t let the decor fool you, this place is as cutthroat as the street in its own way. Of course, Sapphire had a long list of regulars who paid to to enjoy her company. Even more than me.”

I nodded, it was pretty much as I expected.

“Did you ever see this Nightblade of hers?” I asked.

“No,” said Désirée. “The Pearl protects the privacy of the clientele, if they so desire.”

“How do they do that?” I asked.

In response, she dug her hand into the desk beside her. She produced an elegant little piece of paper, scented, and covered in gold script.

“It is an invitation,” she said. “The paper gets you into the building. There is a spell on it that acts as a key to the door of our rooms.”

“So if the killer had an old invitation, he could use it to get in?” I asked.

“No,” said Désirée, a cascade of fiery curls. “The invitation is good only for the times listed. We like to control when we see our clients, to avoid jealousy and give us time to prepare. I have one regular who likes me to dance with him, I have to learn Dragmarian Waltz steps. Its complicated even after a year of learning — but that is part of the cost that goes with high class clients. Custom glamours, special perfumes, arranging the room to show off the gifts they’ve given us. Hours of preparation.”

“I’d take you just as you are,” I growled, unable to help myself.

“I wonder if you could afford the fee,” she said, giving me a genuine, friendly smile this time. “Besides, I’ve heard about who you keep company with… I cannot afford to make the Twins jealous.”

“I’m sure I could persuade them to let you join us for a night,” I said.

Her eyes widened. This time I laughed. We parted on good terms.

<>

Later that night I sat by the hearth, drinking. All I needed to do now was identify the killer. The Guild might be helpful. If not I would try to sniff him out by talking to doormen and Sapphire’s other acquaintances.

Désirée  had confirmed my suspicions about the killer, and yet the system of invitations used at the Pink Pearl tickled that ornery part of me that dislikes simple solutions. Without an invitation the killer would have to break into the Pearl, a difficult task, but not impossible. One of the reasons Madame Glorianna had hired me, I had no doubt, was to show that she took such a violation of neutral ground seriously. The kind of clientele the pearl attracted: merchant princes, visiting dignitaries, and old family wealth, often took their security very seriously.

The problem is that someone skilled enough to break into the pearl from above, without being seen, heard, or triggering any wards could also swipe an invitation or sneak in a service entrance. The doormen would make sure name on the dance card matched the titles of the person who carried it, but the guild taught all of its members how to disguise themselves.

As this thought occurred drifted through my mind, I suddenly realized that I was not alone in the room.  Instinct and a keen nose warned me. The twins were upstairs, sleeping, snoring softly, unharmed, thank Garm. The house was secure, all the locks and windows bolted, the wards silent. 3

I resisted reaching for my axe. The interloper could only be one person.

Perspective and Revision: Raping Cirsei

Why did they change this scene?

Warning: Contains Game of Thrones Spoilers

I have written on this blog about how I feel that a fair bit of of the dregs of modern fantasy gets overly gratuitous with the rape scenes, to the point that rape is the norm in the narrative and other forms of sex and consenting relationships are ignored. My feelings are best summed up by this post.

I was reminded of this dislike when hearing about the reactions of fans of the latest Game of Thrones episode. Essentially, after bratty king King Joffrey’s dies, his father, Jaime, rapes his mother, Cirsei, on his corpse. Fans were somewhat surprised, because in the book the scene plays out very differently, with the act being consensual, and some might say initiated by Cirsei. There is an excellent article about fan reaction, and how we view rape and murder differently here. George RR Martin’s response was somewhat coy, but people should leave him be so he can finish his series.

Personally, I started to dislike the series (books) after book three. Martin is a brilliant writer who has changed the genre for the better, and is at least partially responsible for fantasy becoming more mainstream, especially for adult audiences. Nonetheless after book four I moved on, book five still sits at page 115 out of a thousand or so on my Goodreads reading list and will for some time. Still, I dislike hearing about TV producers rewriting this scene. It really changes the dynamic of power presented in the book.

In the books Cirsei, at least until she becomes a perspective character in book four (which I hated), is a dominant figure in the realm. In the relationship between herself and her brother Jaime, she is not presented as a victim but rather as a willing partner, if not the dominant one. Jaime is the one who seems to have doubts, while Cirsei is the one who does what has to be done to preserve her position. At times, I felt Jaime feared his sister. This change in the TV episode turns her into a victim, and removes the sense of agency that permeates her actions within the book. This de-fanging and debasement of the magnificent, malicious queen of Westeros seems to be a bit of a bumble for the show.

Perhaps my interpretation of the books is flawed, but I often saw Cirsei as a dark reflection of an Elizabethan queen: she was a woman who was surrounded by figures who gained power from strength of arms and the patriarchal structure but who transcended these with a pure will to power and ruthless efficiency. Her deeds were dark, but on a certain level I could respect her for playing the hand she was dealt very well. Perhaps this is why I disliked when she became a perspective character, and at times seems petty and almost childishly malignant.

Having Jaime rape Cirsei changes the way I view them both, and thus changes the way I view of one of the seminal relationships of the series here are a few reasons why:

Cirsei seems weaker: In the books at this point Cirsei seems unassailable in many ways. She rules through her sons and does what she wants. This includes banging her brother near Joffrey’s corpse. In the books she seems to be the dominant partner in the relationship at this point. Her power and her hunger are equal, if not greater, than her brother’s. She is no longer as strong in some ways, however…
Victims deserve sympathy: Being raped makes the audience feel more sympathy toward Cirsei. Here she has been victimized and violated, and it is hard to hate her for it. No matter what your view of the act you cannot deny that there is a big difference toward how you view a woman who has consensual intercourse in a chapel containing her dead son and someone who is raped in the same situation. What was an act of mad passion of two powerful people now becomes one with a definite victim. You can’t hate Cirsei or view her as the same sort villain after this, which is very different than the books.
Jaime cannot be redeemed, Cirsei can: In the books Jaime seems to be travelling the road to some sort of redemption, or at least reader sympathy. He wants to escape his sister. With Martin, redemption or growth is rarely certain, or even likely, but it was possible. Now Jaime seems more monstrous than he did even at the start of the series, when he drops a Stark kid out a damn window. Cirsei on the other hand is suddenly more redeemable, with our sympathy for her suffering making us view her actions in a different light. It might just be me, but I would it hard to see her as a villain after living through that kind of indignity. Plus, why wouldn’t she just kill Jaime.
What if this event influences the books? The TV series is popular. I often wonder how hard it would be to write with a series about my books airing, especially one with major differences. If anyone can handle the situation is is Martin, who has extensive knowledge of both mediums, but I do wonder if he will alter plans for Jaime/Cirsei to fit better with the show, where Jaime has turned out to be a real bastard and Cirsei is less fearsome.

In the end I think this is an excellent example of how changing a single act can change the way an entire set of characters is viewed, at least the best one since HanGreedo shot first.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.12

I really should just call it twelve… regardless, here is the latest installment of the weekly adventures everyone favourite Nordan exile, Ragnar Grimfang!

Blade Breaker 1.1 (start)

Blade Breaker 1.11 (last week)

A whore’s funeral is a truly melancholy event. I say this having attended more than my share in my days in Myrrhn. Not even the flash of lightning from a lovely evening storm could cut through the grim.

Sapphire was popular and admired, in life; a woman whose charms and skills attracted a powerful clientele consisting of many of the city’s elite. In death, she was just another harlot, mostly forgotten by those who had share her bed. Those who attended were friends, co-workers, and a few stalwarts. Madame Glorianna was the only person of obvious import at the event.

I wondered if Bjorn, Sapphire’s Nordan lover, would have attended. I decided he would have. Among my people the appearance of propriety is less important than paying respects to those who share our lives: we do not readily discard those bonds, even after death. I suppose I would know, having been drawn from the grave for a second birth by my own obligations.

Funerals in Myrrhn almost always take place after the body has been cremated. The ceremony is performed by the functionaries of whatever God or Gods the deceased followed, in this case a priest of Kamesin Green-Eyes an ascendant God from Sirutira. Sapphire was not of Sirutiran descent, so I found it strange that she would follow an insular God, part trickster, part warrior,  that is rarely heard of outside the horse-plains. Perhaps one of her friends had called the priest in as a favour. It could also be a clue to the dead woman’s personality. I filed the fact away for later use.

The sacrament that sealed the religious part of the funeral mass, was Kamesin’s bite, modeled after the act of eating some forgotten God’s heart, that started ol’ Green Eyes on the path to ascension. Slivers of raw horse-heart, fresh and bloody, were passed out to the funeral goers. Most declined. Madame Glorianna and her bodyguard, Crimson Wind, took a piece and so did I. My Gods would not mind.

The Priest then took out his sword, one of those wondrous Kiyari blades, and waved it over the ashes, making some sort of symbol. My Sirutiran is not very good, but I could make out that he was speaking of death, rebirth, and something about trampling the enemies of the great tribe. I’m not perfectly certain on the last, but it sounds Sirutiran — they are a touchy lot.

When the time came I wolfed the meat down. I had to work to not seem too enthusiastic: it was a funeral after all, not lunch.

Too her credit madame Glorianna did not make a sour face as she ate the little piece of heart. The Sword-Bride, Crimson Wind seemed to savour her piece. Perhaps she was an adherent to the sect, being from Sirutira herself.

The priest then took Sapphire’s ashes and placed them on a mesh nest atop a tall iron pole, which he set in the ground. Most Myrrhnese prefer to have their ashes sunk into the surrounding oceans,  kept by family, or even worked into colourful fireworks. The Sirutirans, who also practice cremation, prefer to let the wind claim them, bit by bit. It is a poetic tradition, as long you don’t mind breathing ashes now and then. In the North our traditions are varied, but for those Clans that practice cremation, they prefer to build tall pyres so that the smoke carries the ashes of the deceased to the Hall of Heroes. That much wood in Myrrhn would cost a fortune. The Shadow Wolves prefer to leave our dead in sacred spots the forest, to feed the wolves.

After that a few words were said. Beautiful women, looking somber, said nice things about their dead sister. Madame Glorianna made a nice speech about how she saw Sapphire as the daughter that she’d always wanted, emphasizing the importance of family, and making a few assurances about safety and vengeance. No one who seemed to be a relative came forward to speak. I wasn’t really surprised, people often run away to Myrrhn, trying to get away and start anew in the grand old city.

Part of me was secretly hoping that the assassin that murdered Sapphire would be at the funeral. After looking around I had to concede that the killer was either as master of disguise, or had learned to curb his temper.

“Any news Ragnar?” aske Madame Glorianna, approaching me as the crowd began to thin. Crimson Wind stood behind her mistress, watchful.

“Sapphire’s killer was a member of the guild, without doubt, ” I said. “He purchased the paralyzing agent from Gregor the Grey. The Boy was Bjorn, son of Harald Magnison, a member of our sea wolf Clan. Harald is looking for revenge. Gregor knows more than he is willing to say, but nothing I can’t find out with a visit to the black tower. Also there is a minor contract on my head. Some aspiring killers tried to send me back to the grave today.”

“Is it related?” asked Madame Glorianna.

“I’m not certain,” I responded, shrugging. “While I do have a problem making friends, it seems convenient that a nuisance like this would occur now.”

“Perhaps the Guild is trying to warn you off?” said Glorianna.

“I think if the person that killed Sapphire knew or cared that I was after him, he would take a more personal hand in my death,” I said. “The same goes for the Guild. If a man like myself crosses them, I suspect they would send a sterner warning.”

“I shall have my contacts look into it, then,” said Glorianna.

“I would be happy for the help,” I said. “I will also need to interview some of the girls that were here today, preferably somewhere away from curious eyes.”

Happy Holiday & Teaser

Alas, after a long family dinner, I am deeply engrossed in finishing the last few pages of Warbound: The Shield Maiden, third book in the Domains of the Chosen Series.

Instead of a regular blog post, here is a teaser from the new book. (raw and unedited — details will change)

 

“Your sword must be hungry, my dear,” said Azure.

“Starving, although your halberd hasn’t had much of a meal, either, Azure,” Vintia shot back.

“Oh Vintia, I doubt you could ever be much more than an appetizer,” said Azure.

Stung by Azure’s retort, Vintia mustered a less than solid defence against the spell that followed her opponent’s words. She staggered, just managing to get her shield in front of a slash of the halberd, a swift second attack glanced off her hip-plate. She registered a trickle of blood running down her side, as she levelled backhanded slash to force Azure back. Instead of retreating though, Azure slid forward, putting the haft of her weapon between her body and the sword, while delivering a brutal right cross. The crowd roared as Vintia’s mouth filled with blood and broken teeth. However, Vintia stepped closer, bringing the edge of her shield up under Azure’s chin, hard.

 

This scene comes from the beginning of the book. Warbound is not about the arena or Gladiators, but rather follows some of the characters from the Domains series in their lives after the arena. I felt it was natural to start with an arena battle to help the reader make that transition along with the characters.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.11

Why am I using 1.11 instead of just 11? I don’t know, but that is how I roll when writing raw (cool eyebrow thing)! As always Thursdays are the day I take a break from writing my books and write a serial, albeit unpolished and unedited, for practice. Feel free to comment!

The beginning of the series.

Last Week’s Blade Breaker.

“I want justice for my son,” Harald Magnison’s words were sour in my ears. How could one possibly get justice for a young man who was gelded and tortured to death in front of his lover? There is no weregild for that crime, except, in some minds, the same kind of cruelty. I did not want to be a participant in that act. The assassin deserved death, after seeing what he’d done I could not disagree, but it was the same kind of death one should reserve for a rabid animal: swift and sure, the removal of a threat.

“I will deliver proof of his death to you, Sea Wolf,” I said, meeting his eye. “In return you will do as you promised and use your influence to help remedy my status.”

Harald’s companions turned red at this affront. No doubt they had visions of performing a blood eagle, the baiting of the worms, or some other ritualistic viciousness still favoured by some of my people. Harald however, said nothing. After meeting my gaze for several moments, his eyes as merciless and cold as a storm-tossed sea, Harald nodded and raised his hand. We had a deal.

“It will have to do,” said Harald.

We clasped hands. In the North, where reputation is everything, this is often enough to seal any contract. Only the blackest of hearts reneged on a deal made in this fashion among my people. In Myrrhn I often fell like I would have to sign a contract, in triplicate, to even get most people to shake my hand. Still I didn’t trust Harald’s sudden bout of sense; my people are not know for our even tempers and forgiving natures.

Harald and his kin left the way they came, a wall of muscle and hair. I sat peaceably sipping, wondering if I could brave the dark streets with some junior assassin having nicked me once already today. Obviously someone had put out a minor contract on my head, but why?

I had a few enemies in the city, but assassination seemed drastic. Perhaps it was a distraction. Keeping me looking over my shoulder would certainly make it harder to concentrate on the task at hand. Then again, perhaps I had offended someone in passing. There were plenty of people with money to waste in a city like Myrrhn.

I could stay at the Wench all night if I was so inclined. The rooms were reasonably priced and exceptionally safe. The girls would miss me if I did not return, but they are well aware of my habits. I enjoy the night more than most.

I out a finger to my beard at that thought. The assassin outside of Gits knew attacked me during the daylight hours. That made me wonder if they knew about my skills. My clan, the Shadow Wolves, are known as the best night fighters among the Nordan. I confess that I am somewhat less dangerous without the aid of darkness. Then again, perhaps it was not study and observation, but rumour that was driving my opponents beliefs. Maybe they were less afraid of well-hone night-fighting skills and more afraid of the big bad wolf. I grinned at that thought.

After downing a shot of Thraxian fire whiskey, the one thing those imperial bastards made that was worthwhile, I made my way to the door. I made sure to do so conspicuously, just in case. I stopped to retrieve my arms, and then stepped out into the night.

Myrrhn is a very different city at night. There are pools of dazzling light, filled with revelers and music, often around the more beautiful landmarks. Fountain Grove was the closest of these. I could see people heading there, moving in large groups for company, and the illusion of safety. There are safe areas, places that are off limits to the Guilds. Bridges, for one, are all off limits by ancient agreement. Not that it makes much difference to a good killer — they pretty much have you dead to rights if you take refuge on a bridge. Fountain Grove was not one of these. However, while Myrrhn is dangerous, it is not so violent as to discourage people from enjoying the vibrant nightlife.

I could not see any assassins. I smiled at the thought.

Lamplight cast deeper shadows in the alleys that I passed. A man walking alone at night in the city is either a target, or someone to be feared. As I cloaked myself in menace, taking the long way home, avoiding the revels and the light, I wondered which of these that I would be seen as.

I was beginning to feel to think the night would turn out to be less eventful than the day when I heard a scream from an alley as I passed.

Why I think Captain America: Winter Soldier is the best Marvel Superhero movie thus far (spoilers)

Watch this Movie

This post contains spoilers. The specific spoilers begin after the red text.

As a Canadian, I have never been a huge fan of cap. I don’t hate the character especially, but if I am honest the idea of a nationalistic superhero bothers me, no matter what the nation may be. Marvel manages to skirt around the issue quite well, especially post ultimates with cap acting as the man out of time, that ultimate allied soldier who is more of a representative of the distilled ideals of a generation than a particular country — you know those people who survived WWII and fought against the Nazis.

The First Captain America movie was entertaining, and much better than I expected it would be, but not on par with the Avengers or the first Iron Man. I went into the theatre for Captain America: Winter Soldier knowing very little about the plot and no spoilers. I came out of the theatre more pleased with the movie that I watched than I have been in a very long time.

In general the movie was good. The action scenes were crisp and varied. The banter was a nice mix of humorous and dramatic, with a surprising dose of heavy subject matter (more on that later). The effects were excellent. The acting was also very, very good, much better than I would ever expect from a comic book movie, even in the age of Robert Downey’s Iron Man. I would heartily recommend this movie to anyone at all, perhaps even those who do not like comic book movies.

Very specific spoilers begin here.

Here are five reasons why I think that Winter Soldier is not only worth watching, but actually kind of brilliant.

1) Black Widow: The marvel movies, despite bringing in Joss Whedon and some a-list talent to play female characters are not the best when it comes to female empowerment. I don’t blame comics for this, I blame the marketing department at the movie studios. I was happily that Scarlett Johanson’s Natasha Romanov got a lot of screen time with some serious action scenes, decent banter, and an integral part of the plot. I ma not the best judge of these things, but I did not find Black Widow to be overly ‘sexed up’. She wasn’t even involved in any romantic sub-plots. Which leads me to my next point.

2) No romantic sub-plots: There is a very tender scene in the middle of the movie where Cap visits the aging/dying Peggy Carter to talk about the past. It brought a tear to my eye, reminding me of recent visits with my grandparents who are part of the same generation as agent Carter, and suffering through the same, slow, brutal dance with age. That is the extent of the romance in the movie, and it is there to serve as a reminder of who Captain America is and what he values, not to titillate or tick off another item on the movies feature list. Cap does not date anyone and his only kiss in the movie leads Black Widow to make fun of him, with only a slight bit of sexual tension, if any. It is damned refreshing to have a movie this long with so little  attention paid to Romance. But then again, Winter Soldier is a damned serious movie.

3) The plot was predictable, but I didn’t care: Winter Soldier doesn’t really try to throw any curveballs. This is one thing I respect in most of the marvel movies. The writers know that the audience knows the source material well and aren’t watching for great new stories so much as to see their favourite characters and favorite stories retold on the big screen. The Winter Solider story, from Fury’s (fake) death, to the Winter Soldier being Bucky, to the various betrayals was not mean to surprise, but rather to emphasize the experience. The story, in the end, gives way to a discussion about philosophy, generational values, and the whole issue of security that is currently the western world, from drones to Edward Snowden.

4) The Winter Soldier has something to say, and it is fairly deep: I often feel that the politicians and thinkers who current dominate the Western world suffer from a James Bond complex. Security had become such a concern for some that it threatens the privacy, freedom, and quality of life for many. In the movie when Nick Fury and Cap argue about “neutralizing enemies before they become a threat”, I am immediately minded of the rhetoric that surrounds drone based missile strikes in countries like Yemen, where we redefine the dead as potential enemy combatants to avoid the sticky moral issues of killing people “who might be dangerous, but we aren’t really sure, and you don’t need to know about it anyways”. The movie wants you to draw this parallel, with huge carriers with automated weapon systems that can lock on to distant targets and eliminated them thousands at a time from on high, reducing the decision to destroy down to an algorithm and a moral view. In particular I found the use of Hydra to be quite good, as the people who take that ideal one step beyond where it is in reality and show us the naked possibilities of the slippery slope of the current security apparatus.

5) Generational Values: When Cap and Fury argue early on, Fury brings up the view that “The Greatest Generation”, which Cap belongs to is not necessarily as good as people seem to think. From then on, the interplay of generational values becomes a deep and resonant thread in the movie, tying in very neatly with the theme of security and freedom. Falcon and Black Widow are explicitly called out as millennials, making it interesting that Natasha has the final word on Shield while Fury sort of retires. It is something that I have been thinking about quite a bit lately as we slowly lose the Greatest Generation, and the millennial generations make themselves felt. Currently the world is dominated by the interests of the Boomers —  that whole James Bond complex is part of their zeitgeist in many ways, having its roots in the Cold War. It is certainly a deeper discussion and a deeper point than I ever expected from a comic book movie and it may lead the curious into those discussions, which I think need to be had. It is a complicated and difficult and messy issue, and it is amazing to see a pop culture movie actually did into it in a meaningful fashion.

In a way, the movie speaks to me. These are things that I think about a lot. I am deeply worried about the people who take our freedom in the name of protecting us. Who spy on us for our own good and kill people in far off countries in our name with remote controlled death toys. I see the roots of this conflict in the zeitgeist of past generations. I am worried about what will happen when it all boils over. It is nice to see  movie that isn’t afraid to go there, explicitly.

Pretty good for a silly movie about dudes in spandex.

PS: also kind of cool that they are willing to drop Shield. That has real ramifications.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: Blade Breaker 1.10

The Shadow Wolf Sagas are an ongoing serial, written raw (first pass, draft style) so I can improve certain aspect of my style

The First Chapter

Last Weeks Installment

The Inn of the Willing Wench always seems to be the perfect temperature. Perhaps it is simply my love of the place. After my visit to the Pink Pearl and a series of violent encounters with some suspicious street thugs and a pair of novice assassins while investigating the origins of a peculiar poison, I was looking forward to lubricating my mind with the best bitters in the city. Brunor’s brews are rightfully famous even among the Nordan, traditional recipes passed down through the centuries. Tis one of the many reasons that the Wench is my favourite tavern in Myrrhn.

I was hungry for meat, a response to getting stuck by the would-be assassin I have no doubt. Whether the response was brought on by an actual physical need or a spiritual one, I cannot say. I devoured a delectable chunk of rare beef seasoned with cracked peppers, and then settled in to a pair of mutton shanks, a house specialty, finished with a succulent apple glaze. Normally, I prefer my meat plain and rare, but I made an exception for the Wench’s wondrous fare.

After wolfing down the second shank and my third tankard, I sat back and let out an appreciative belch. The place was busy, but not so packed that the staff was harried or the tables were over-crowded. Merchants rubbed elbows with mercenaries, and I would swear an oath in blood that at least one of the tables held a group of would-be adventurers planning their next ‘quest’; perhaps a search of the undercity caves for the lost treasures of the pirate lords who founded the city ages ago. One can make a fair bit of money swindling the gullible with ‘maps’ and ‘clues’ to these treasures I’m told. Myself, I have been on my fair share of strange expeditions, both here and in the North, and I have great respect for the adventurers of the world. I would hate to live in a world without them.

The decor of the inn is old wood and stone. This is what attracted me to the Wench in the first place. In Nordan Lands, timbre is plentiful of of exceptional quality, and thus most buildings are made with wood. Thus the inn felt closer to home for me in the early days of my exile.

The staff and clientele of Brunors ancient inn are a varied lot. Some have roots in the city as deep and wide as the ancient forests of the Verdant Court, but many are new to the city, looking for a welcoming place to work or to rest. It used to be that many of the women (and some of the men) who worked at the Inn of the Willing Wench were also whores on the side, but times change and while madam Glorianna’s girls are free to work their trade in the Wench, the staff is strictly off limits. It is a wise policy in my mind. It keeps the tavern out of guild politics, for one.

I was contemplating history, and perhaps signaling Sigi for another shank and a tankard to keep it company when my line of vision was eclipsed by three very large men.

“Greetings brothers,” I said, looking up at them. “Have you come to share Ragnar’s table?”

The largest and oldest of them, a mountain of a  man with a shock of red hair, like Furis himself, snorted at me while the others glowered. They were all Nordan, probably sea wolves, and naturally enough all of them were giant-blooded. I guessed that these were relatives of Sapphires deceased lover.

“Pfffft, I would not willingly share an exiles table,” he said. “I am here about my son.”

“And what makes you think that Ragnar Grimfang knows anything about your son?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

“I am Harald Magnison, called Ironmast,” said the red haired giant. “My son Bjorn was found dead this day.”

The table creaked as Harald’s gripped the edge. After a moment he continued. “I know that you are seeking his killer exile. Do not play games with me Shadow Wolf. We seek justice for Bjorn’s death. We will not be denied!”

“Where do I fit into this?” I asked, as mildly as possible.

“You will find his killer and bring him to us,” said Harald. His companions, a brother and a nephew or another son, nodded vigorously.

“And what If I don’t?” I asked, less mildly.

Harald looked at me as if I had just handed him Magni’s hammer. “Exile–”

I cut him off. “If  you want my help Harald Magnison, then you will cease to refer to me as exile. I have tasted death before Sea Wolf, and I am not afraid of any arms that you and yours can bring to bear against me. Save your threats. Now tell me, why should I help you?”

For a moment I thought Harald would swing. His companions certainly looked ready for a fight. Then he seemed to crumple, just a little, growing a little less fierce and a whole lot older as he did so.

“I have some influence in my Clan,” said Harald. “I would not expect you to hear of my deeds… Ragnar, for they came after your time in the North. However, my name carries weight, even here. See for yourself. If you help me, I will speak on your behalf and recommend you to my clansmen. I will also offer you payment as needed. I want justice for my son.”

Classic Characters: Caesar as an inspiration for Fantasy works.

Caesar

Gaius Julius Caesar is an obvious favourite for any young lad who is excited by Roman history. Love him or hate him, he is certainly a figure that has inspired a vast body of literature. This is  partially because Caesar is a far more complex character than his own (professed) hero, Alexander the Great, which allows an author to portray him in a variety of ways and partly because one can come to know Caesar in his own voice, since he wrote several works that survive to this day, and many more that are discussed in surviving sources. What I wouldn’t give to read some of his lost poetry or his Anticato (a sort of written insult to a senatorial nemesis, Cato).

Caesar was famed for his skill as a commander in the field and in maneuvering the corridors of power during the era of civil strife that marked the end of the Republic. His early life rarely gets mentioned but is fascinating and engaging. Here are a few examples.

By the time Caesar reached adulthood, the Republic had already experienced a fair share of Civil strife. His aunt was married to Gaius Marius who contested against another favourite Roman of mine, Lucius Cornelius Sulla in a civil war. At one point Marius and his faction even nominated a young Caesar (sixteen?) for Priest of Jupiter. Naturally when Sulla defeated Marius for good, the young Caesar was on his list of people to purge, but influential relatives managed to save Caesar and he quickly made himself scarce in Rome. Given Caesar’s talent for politics it is quite likely that this stint outside of the heart of the empire was good for him in many ways, as is the fact that Sulla confiscated much of his inheritance, forcing him to work all the harder to achieve his ambitions (conjecture on my part, Caesar was very clever to begin with, but I have always felt that circumstances prevented him from resting on his laurels like many of his peers).
After Sulla died, Caesar returned to Rome, living in a poor suburb and making his living as a Lawyer. He became renowned for his oratory. Interestingly he gained favour for exposing the corruption of others.
Caesar was captured by Pirates as a young man, impressing them all with his demeanor. When his captors wanted to ransom Caesar famously pointed out to them that the ransom was too low, an action that provides many insights into his character and situation. He also told the pirates that if he survived he would one day return and have them crucified, which they took as a joke. Sadly for them, it wasn’t.
As a young Roman without a lot of wealth and bad connections Caesar was forced to move on from easy posts and take military assignments all over the empire. Although he complained about these, famously weeping (supposedly) when he saw a Statue of Alexander the great who had risen to rule the known world at an age when Caesar was just a minor officer, the body of experience he accumulated in his endeavors served him very well in later life.

Young Caesar make an ideal model for a classical character. Because he is such  a complex character, open to interpretation,  his life can serve as inspiration for pastoral styles or even grimdark. Many of us are familiar with the events of his middle years, the constant struggles with politics, debt, and his military triumphs, ending in a consulship and then the Governership of Gaul (all of it) where he gained his greatest fame (to modern audiences) as a military commander, and eventually becoming Dictator before he was assassinated. Along the way he meets Cleopatra, shows magnanimity to his enemies (a mistake? perhaps, given that they were attempting to conserve a system that he was a threat to), and crosses both the Rhine and the English Channel. However Caesar was a man of surprising talents, and did quite a few things which are often forgotten. Here are a few.

Caesar was entitled to a Triumph, one of the grand processions that were accorded to Rome’s great generals, for his victories in Spain. He wanted to run for the Consulship however, and the Triumph would have delayed that. He asked for an exception of sorts, the vagaries of Roman politics are very interesting at this time, but Cato blocked him. Caesar was forced to choose between Triumph and running for the Consulship — he chose the Consulship, looking to the future instead of resting on a sure thing.
Caesar was rumoured to have had an affair with a king of an allied province early in his career. He vehemently denied this, but it is interesting and adds more meat to the story. Mark Antony also said that Octavian used sex to gain Caesar’s favour, although this is often called out as slander.
Caesar was directly involved in class warfare. He supported Pompey’s land reforms (forcefully). Ronald Syne has an excellent book about the Roman Revolution, showing it as a case of class warfare of sorts. The love that the poor, and the military class bore Caesar may have rubbed off on Octavian, giving him the base of support needed to become the first emperor.
Caesar introduced the Julian Calender in 46 BC. The calendar was 365.25 days long with twelve regular months and an extra day every four years. We use a corrected variation of this calender, reformed later. Interestingly the calender was reformed partly because political meddling was throwing off the years. As a result of this reform the year 46 BC was 455 days long in Rome to bring it back into proper alignment with the equinoxes, which raised a few eyebrows. The adoption of this calendar and subsequent reforms and confusions outlasted the man himself by quite some time… Caesar’s most important contribution was seeing the problem and imposing a solution where others would have just been content to continue taking advantage.
Caesar essentially made Rome into a province to counter the view that those who were born and lived outside of Rome could not really be considered for high office. This reform was completed by Augustus, and was considered essential to transforming the Empire into a cohesive whole instead of a network of linked semi-states ruled by Rome. It also alleviated the complaints of many outside Rome who wanted to be seen as true citizens. I would guess that this reform really pissed certain people off — some people always resist change, however fair.

Caesar, with all his greatness and his flaws, is an exemplar of classical civilization, and his life could serve as inspiration for many different types of fantasy characters. Caesar appears in several guises in my works, as inspiration for Gavin and Marius, and even Sadira.