Tyler F.M. Edwards's Blog, page 66

Rage of the Old Gods, Chapter Fifteen: The Council of War

We’ve now reached chapter fifteen of Rage of the Old Gods, the first book of my epic science fantasy trilogy the World Spectrum. In the coming weeks, I will be posting the entire book for free on this blog. If you’re just joining us, you can get caught up with the previous chapters now.

You can only run for so long. New resources and opportunities have revealed themselves, and Leha hatches a desperate scheme to take the fight to the enemy for the first time since the war began.

———————

Chapter fifteen: The Council of War

The other leaders arrived, one by one: Drogin, Doga, Eranna, Natoma, Yarnig, and, representing the Northern Clans, Brodar and Fargra, a stout woman with a long red braid and the title of chieftain of the Yaja clan. Breena explained her discovery and then took her place on a cushion near the other Clanspeople.

Leha stepped into the center of the room. She looked over the people around the room. Some sat, and some stood, but all had their eyes on her. She took a breath, inhaling the scents of wood and hide that dominated the chamber, and calmed herself. She knew her plan was sound.

“We’re going to attack a ziggurat,” she announced.

Doga, Eranna, and Drogin seemed to think they hadn’t heard her properly; Natoma raised her eyebrows; through the connection with his mind, she sensed Benefactor’s jaw loll open; Yarnig gaped.

“A ziggurat? Are you serious?” Fargra said from near the door to the hall’s main passageway, speaking Tor. Benefactor would translate for any who didn’t understand all the languages spoken within the meeting.

“I thought you said we couldn’t hold static positions!” Yarnig said, sitting on a cushion to Leha’s left. He used Eastenholder.

Drogin fixed her with a concerned stare. He crouched to her right, his forehead still shining with sweat.

Leha raised her hands in a placating gesture. The warm afternoon sun glinted off her claws and her hair. “Hear me out.” She turned to Yarnig. “You’re right; we can’t hold it. But we can destroy it. We can rob the machines of one of their main bases of support.”

She again swept the room with her gaze, hoping she appeared strong and confident. “This technique of Breena’s is the key. She can spy out a good target, find its weak points, and show us exactly where to jump our forces in. If we go from Tyzu or Sy’om, the barrier won’t protect them. We’ll be able to cripple their defenses before they know we’re there.”

Eranna shook her head sadly. “We can’t do it. Our resources are too thin. We can barely hold the northern front.” She and Doga stood between Yarnig and the Clanspeople.

They both seemed worn and haggard. After their arrival, when Leha had greeted Doga, he had confided to her that, in addition to the other hardships on the northern front, it had proven difficult for certain elements of the Tors and the Clanspeople to work together. Their violent history had not been forgotten.

Leha fixed her eyes upon the Tor woman. “That’s exactly why we have to do this. With each passing day, the machines get stronger, and we get weaker. If we strike at their base of support, we might throw them off kilter and gain a respite.”

She stepped forward. “Things are not as hopeless as they seem. We have strengths now that we didn’t before. Drogin’s new weapons give us tactical options the Automatons don’t know about. Breena’s spell will allow us to plan our attack in detail. The ice creature wizards are becoming better trained every day.

“We can’t stay on the defensive forever. We have to take the fight to the machines, and we have to do it in a way they won’t expect.” She swallowed. She had confidence in the plan, but under the eyes of so many, its flaws, and hers, seemed to swell.

I agree, Benefactor said, sending images of violence against Automatons along with the message.

Eranna considered. “No, I don’t think it’s enough.” She sighed.

She and Doga glanced at each other, and some silent communication seemed pass between them. Doga nodded slightly, frowning regretfully.

Eranna’s eyes met Leha’s. “But it might be, if we had more fighters like you.”

Leha felt a chill in her chest.

Doga stepped forward, placed a hand on Eranna’s shoulder, and nodded once. “Yes. We can no longer rely on you alone. We require more with your powers, or I fear the enemy will claim us. You say you do not understand it, that it is too risky, but I – but we – believe the risk is necessary.”

Leha’s shoulders slumped. “No,” she said. “There will never be another like me.” She turned away and took a shuffling step back.

“I am sure we could find soldiers willing to risk the transformation,” Eranna said.

“There’s little risk to the transformation,” Leha said, turning back. “The Watcher told me that.”

Only Benefactor seemed unsurprised by her revelation.

She didn’t pause. “The risk is in allowing people to wield this level of power.”

The others did not seem to understand.

“Think back to the end of the Liberation,” she said, her voice rising. “Humanity was a united race living in peace. It took less than a thousand years for that to fall apart.”

She took a deep breath. “We forgot our Gods, our creators, our enslavers. We forgot who they were, we forgot their nature, and then we resurrected them. We enhanced them and refined them until they had the power to destroy us, and then in one sweep, they crushed everything that we had created in the past seven millennia.” She felt her blood run hot and fast. “And now we face extinction. And if it comes, we will not have the Old Gods to blame. No, it will be because of our own arrogance, our own recklessness, our own greed and hate. We will have earned our fate.”

She made herself as tall as her meager stature would permit. “So no, I will not see another like me created. Not now. Perhaps not ever.”

A heavy silence hung over the chamber as her words ceased to ring off the walls.

Drogin stared at her with wide eyes. Eranna shifted her weight from foot to foot. To Leha’s right, Natoma leaned against the wall as she had from the beginning, her face expressionless.

Yarnig’s youthful voice broke the silence. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you, Leha,” he said.

She glanced at him and offered a hint of a smile.

The Clanspeople conferred in hushed Clanstongue. Because they weren’t addressing the main gathering, Benefactor did not translate their words. “We agree as well,” Brodar said.

“Leha…” Drogin said.

She swiveled her head to look upon her brother.

He searched for the right words. “We need you. Your abilities are essential.” He seemed to be trying very hard to not sound combative. “If there were others like you, we’d have an edge on the machines. We can’t afford to ignore a possible advantage.”

“What if something were to befall you?” Eranna added.

Leha focused on her brother, ignoring Eranna. She sighed. “I know. But I can’t do it, Drogin. You have to understand that. Please.” She spoke softly, her face beseeching.

Drogin paused for what felt like a very long time. “Okay,” he said, speaking equally softly. “I understand.”

She favored him with a brief smile.

She sensed Benefactor consider. I… agree, Leha, he said.

Leha returned her attention to Doga and Eranna. They hesitated, fidgeting, and shared another long glance. “We seem to be in the minority,” Eranna said quietly. Leha took it as a sign of submission.

Natoma nodded once.

Leha emptied her lungs in a long, slow sigh of relief.

“So we’re back to the ziggurat,” Brodar said, crossing his arms.

“Yes,” Leha said.

“I think we can do it,” Breena said. “We have new advantages, and if we do not take the offensive now, when will we?”

Yarnig shrugged. “I am not knowledgeable in the ways of war. My opinion matters little.”

Natoma stared at the ceiling as if it might yield the answer. “We are running out of food. More people die in every battle. Why not take a chance?”

Leha nodded. “Exactly.”

We should bring death to the machines, Benefactor’s mental voice snarled.

Brodar and Fargra conversed in a few brief bursts of Clanstongue. Fargra took a breath and addressed Leha. “You make a convincing case. We are willing to go along with your plan, if only to take some of the pressure off the north.” She sounded less than enthusiastic.

Leha turned to Eranna and Doga, meeting the Lost One’s eyes.

Doga dropped his eyes. “The fighters of the Liberation did not free our race without taking risks.”

Leha looked around the room. “Are we agreed? We will attack a ziggurat?”

Natoma, Yarnig, Doga, and the Clanspeople agreed. Benefactor ducked his head. Drogin and Eranna offered no argument.

Leha’s shoulders relaxed. “Now, how many can we field for the attack?”

Eranna pursed her lips. “It depends on how many we wish to leave to defend the north. It’s a long frontier to cover. We’d probably need a minimum of twenty thousand to keep it safe.

“Fifteen thousand at best.”

“I doubt they’ll be expecting our attack,” Leha said. “Their defenses shouldn’t be too strong. That should be enough.” She turned to Drogin. “Expand the production of the new weapons. I’d like to see at least two or three thousand equipped with them when we launch the assault, and I want them ready within the next three months, if it’s possible.”

Drogin leaned his head back, thinking, then brought it back to view his sister. “It’ll be hard. We won’t be able to keep making them custom for every soldier.”

“Do what you have to,” she told him. “Maybe some of the permanent Clan villages can help,” she added, her eyes darting to Fargra.

The Clanswoman shrugged.

Leha went on to instruct Breena to search out a suitable ziggurat and to train other wizards in her technique so as to speed the process. The assembled leaders discussed a few other matters relating to the planned attack and their ongoing defense against the machines, before dispersing.

As they returned to their standard duties, Leha sought out Eranna in the Clan hall’s passageway.

“I want you to know that I understand how you feel. About creating others like me,” Leha said, looking up at the much taller woman.

Eranna nodded grimly. “Thank you.” Her eyes grew distant. “I cannot blame you for your feelings. I was at Three Gates, too. I can understand why you wouldn’t trust people with this level of power.”

Leha offered a clawed hand, and Eranna shook it. Afterward, Eranna turned away and departed down the passageway.

* * *

Weeks passed.

As soon as the meeting had closed, Leha had sent out their orders, and preparations for the assault on the ziggurat had begun. Every available hand went into service, either as a fighter or a laborer preparing weapons and supplies.

Day and night, the human camps beyond the Gormorra Range and north of what had been Tor Som marched to the beat of hammers and drilling feet. Salvagers and Clan miners worked themselves to exhaustion, extracting metal to use in weapons and armor.

Smoke from the forges hung eternally over the southern end of the eastern camp, and sections of the ancient forest were cut down to fuel the flames. None of Drogin’s new weapons went to the northern front; Leha wanted the element of surprise to be on their side when they struck at the ziggurat. Leha went over possible attack plans with Natoma, though for the first few weeks, they were largely theoretical.

Breena and her growing cadre of wizards turned spies spent their days combing the lands that had once belonged to humanity. They came to the conclusion that most of the Automaton’s empire was based in southeastern Pira and northwestern Uranna, around the Gulf of Jansia – the lands that had been the center of their power prior to the Liberation. They maintained a military force in Tor Som, and they occasionally patrolled or moved through Karkar, but Eastenhold had been abandoned.

Though most of the ziggurats were still under construction, the wizards reported that the machines had made incredibly rapid progress. By the second month of preparations, they had discovered five of the machine cities.

Not being magically talented, Leha couldn’t view the ziggurats – she had attempted linking with a wizard’s mind, via Benefactor, while they used the observation spell, but something about it disrupted the ice creature’s telepathy – but she asked Erik to describe them for her – her books had not provided much detail about the ancient ziggurats.

“They’re not as big as you’d think,” he said. “I mean, they’re enormous, the size of any human city, but each one must only be able to house a hundred or so machines, not counting smaller support Automatons. And I don’t think any of them are full.”

When she pressed for more details, he said, “There aren’t really any buildings. It’s all flat surfaces and big open areas. Some places are roofed, but nothing’s fully enclosed as far as I can tell.”

He leaned back, and his eyes unfocused. “The land around them has been ruined. They‘re clearing all the trees, and their machinery is putting out a lot of smoke and waste. There isn’t even much grass left, in some places.”

“What are they built of?” she asked. He gave a confusing description of something that was like stone or earth but not either one.

She asked a few more questions, but his answers tended to be vague and unsatisfactory. Over the next few weeks, she questioned other wizards and gained a few more details, but she decided that, to get the full effect, she would have to see them with her own eyes.

In the course of their investigations, Breena and her colleagues also discovered that the machines had began a campaign of grinding former human settlements into dust as they had done at Marlhem. The Automatons had already reduced dozens of cities and towns to nothing but flat fields of ash. It seemed that they wished to eliminate all signs of humanity from the world.

Leha and a number of others, mostly wizards, continued to investigate the ruins of the creator race outpost, but they gleaned little new information from it. Most of its contents and functions were completely beyond their understanding. Leha still felt that it had some key part to play before the end, though she knew not what. Many nights, she would descend to the still-aired depths, sometimes with Drogin, and attempt to glean something from the strange symbols and incomprehensible mechanisms that dotted the rooms under the mountain.

The Automaton assaults on the north persisted. Each time the ice creatures transmitted the warnings, Leha would put on her armor and join the fray. The humans fought off every strike, but the machines wore them down further with every battle and skirmish.

On occasion, they launched more of their overload weapons against Sy’om or Tyzu, but without the element of surprise, the level of damage they could do was not great.

No one saw any sign of the Automaton Lord, but Leha thought that its efforts on the frontlines would probably be unnecessary if things continued as they had. Soon, the humans would run out of food and starve.

Spring progressed into summer, and the weather grew hotter. Here, beyond the Gormorra Range, where cool breezes blew down from the mountains, it never got as hot as it had in Eastenhold during the summer. Still, for Leha and the other Eastenholders, the warmth brought back unhappy memories of the times a year past, when the Tors had brought their army to bear against them, and city after city had fallen. Sometimes, hot, smoky gusts would blow up from the direction of the forges, and the memories would become more vivid, tightening the muscles in Leha’s throat and shoulders.

Now, the Eastenholders and the Tors were united in a common cause. When she thought about it, Leha realized how bizarre it was. In the back of her mind, she still did not know how to feel toward her former enemies. She had found it in her heart to forgive those like Eranna, those who had felt misgivings at the time or who had been simply following orders.

But others had chosen, without reservation, to bring suffering to her nation; some had even enjoyed it. Most of the latter had refused to join Leha’s army, but there were many who had walked the gray area between doubting their mission of destruction and willfully embracing it.

Leha had never decided how she felt about them. Like most other Tors and Eastenholders, she had accepted her former enemies as necessary allies, having come to understand them through the mental link of the ice creatures, being glad that they were at least human, and not machine.

She had not thought about things so deeply in many months, but the turning of the seasons had sent her mind to places it had not been since before Marlhem. She could come to no better conclusions now than she had before. From what she had learned during the telepathic links, most of the people who had destroyed her home were no different from anyone else. But that, in and of itself, was disturbing.

She would welcome autumn when it came.

* * *

In a little clearing just outside the camp, surrounded by fragrant evergreens and standing on moist grass, Yarnig swung his sword at imaginary enemies, grunting and sweating with exertion. The attacks, blocks, and feints he practiced would be of little use against an Automaton, Natoma had told him, but she said they would help him build up his strength and reflexes. All that mattered to him now was that they gave him something to do.

He swung his blade, slicing the tops off several blades of tall grass. His artist’s eyes took note of the way the light glinted off his sword, the way the drops of dew sparkled like stars before falling to the earth.

He sighed, taking a brief pause before beginning his next exercises. He took a moment to examine his blade the way that Natoma had shown him, running his fingers over the edge, looking for nicks or chips. Lately, Natoma’s time had been occupied with the preparations for the attack, and she had not had time to give him lessons. He’d continued to practice on his own, and he had also begun to drill with the Clanspeople in some of their techniques, but somehow, things didn’t feel the same without Natoma.

When he had been training with her, it had given him respite from the pointlessness of his life, but now those helpless feelings had returned. He spent most of his time plagued by boredom, cursing his own impotence. He regretted his failure to save Marlhem, and he regretted that he had no skills to offer his people.

Part of him wondered if his time with Natoma seemed better simply because of the natural pleasure of spending time with a beautiful woman – he admitted that likely played a part – but he didn’t think that accounted for all of the emptiness he felt. He hadn’t felt any more useful when she had been teaching him, but his lack of value hadn’t bothered him so much during his time with her.

He shook his head to clear it and returned to his drills. He cut the air in savage strikes, taking his frustrations out on his invisible targets. He gave himself to shouts and battle cries, engaging in a display of savagery that would have shocked his fellow nobles and royals had they still been alive. His cries echoed through the trees, but no one in the camp heard them. He was too far.

When he had exhausted himself, he sank to his knees, gasping for breath. Sweat ran down his face. The moist earth soaked and stained his once-fine burgundy pants, but he didn’t notice.

He would be joining the attack on the ziggurat. He had asked Natoma to allow it, and she had reluctantly agreed. He would serve in her squad; Natoma had given him some lessons on strategy and tactics, but no one pretended he was ready to command. He would be a soldier, a fighter for humanity.

Taldin wouldn’t have approved, but he was in the north. His knowledge and experience could do more good there than here. There were more important things to protect than a figurehead emperor.

Yarnig had seen the horrors of war, but when the time to strike came, he would welcome it. He would welcome the chance to take action, something he hadn’t done since he had journeyed north and contacted the Marg clan.

He sheathed his sword. Soon, he would give it over to Drogin to be reforged. He hauled himself to his feet and headed back toward camp. For now, the waiting continued.

* * *

Magic flickered across the field, crackling and blazing and shimmering. Leha watched as two sides, one of ice creatures and the other of humans, struck at each other with spells and summoned shields to protect themselves from the other’s attacks. It was a training drill. The intention was to improve the wizards’ combat skills, especially the ice creatures. A third, larger group of wizards, all more powerful and experienced, watched over it, using their abilities to block or negate any spell with the risk of actually harming one of the trainees.

Bright, warm light washed over the field, and Leha rolled up her sleeves to stay cool. This place had been forest a few weeks ago, but it had been cleared to fuel the forges. Stray flashes of magic burned what little plant life had been left behind. It reminded Leha of the stories she had heard about the lands claimed by the machines, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that what they had taken wasn’t a fraction of the vast forests that remained.

She heard someone come up behind her. She turned, and saw her brother. He greeted her.

She acknowledged his greeting, giving a quick smile. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the weapons production?”

“I found someone to take over for the afternoon. There’s a project I’ve been working on – I finished it last night. I’d like you to see it.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What’s the project?” she asked.

He smiled enigmatically. “Let me show you.”

Leha raised the other eyebrow and followed Drogin back to the main camp. He led her through the shabby tents and crude shelters, and they arrived at his home at the southern edge. It was near the forges, and the air smelled of smoke and hot metal. She heard the shouts of workers.

He took her into the workroom and retrieved a small, cloth-wrapped bundle from a table to her left. “I’ve been working on this for a few weeks now. Nights, mornings, whenever I had time.” He held it out to her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A gift,” he said, smiling again.

After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the bundle. It felt heavy. She took it over to his worktable and unwrapped the cloth, revealing what appeared to be a thick piece of armor designed to cover a person’s forearm. One side was bisected into two hinged plates that looked to be able to latch together but were currently apart. The metal was smooth and shiny.

Leha stared at her brother, puzzled.

“It’s a weapon,” he explained. “Let me show you.”

He picked up the device and placed it upon her right forearm, fastening the plates to cover the inner side of the arm. It had a snug fit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

He guided her attention to the outer face, where a small dial was recessed into the metal. “It works the same way as the new swords, but I know you fight with your hands, so I made you a weapon that wouldn’t impede your climbing or be difficult for you to hold because of your claws,” he said. “Try turning the dial halfway, but be careful your hand is straight when you do it.”

She did as he instructed, delicately turning the dial with her claws, and a thin blade shot from a small hole in the forward edge of the outer plate. It rang like a tuning fork. She considered the blade. It had a double edge of silver, and it was about the length of her forearm.

“Now, try turning it the rest of the way,” he said, still grinning.

She flipped the dial to the other end of its housing, and the silver edges of the blade flashed to life, bringing light to the dim tent and humming faintly. She gave it a few experimental swings, being careful not to hit Drogin or anything else in the tent.

She held the blade up to her face, admiring its glow and the way it reflected off the plating on her forearm. “You made this all by yourself?”

He shrugged. “A blacksmith helped make some of the larger pieces.”

She smiled. “It’s beautiful.” Her smile shifted towards a frown. “But if I’m climbing on an Automaton, I won’t be able to work the dial.”

Drogin’s expression didn’t change. “You won’t have to.” He pulled his wand from his belt and flicked it. The dial swung back to its original position, and before Leha had a chance to register that the magic had deactivated, the blade retreated into its slot.

Drogin returned his wand to his belt. “Our minds will be linked during the battle, and I’ll be able to sense what you need as soon as you think it. I can do the spell from a distance – it’s very simple.”

She looked over the device for a few more seconds, feeling warmth spread through her chest.

She opened her arms and embraced her brother. “Thank you.”

They released each other and stood in silence for a moment.

“I’d ask if you wanted to have lunch with me, but I’ve already eaten,” Leha said apologetically.

Drogin nodded. “Would… would you like to take a walk in the forest, maybe?”

Leha thought. There were other things that she should be doing. But none of them needed to be done immediately. She smiled. “Sure.” She raised her right arm. “Just let me stow this in my room at the hall.” She turned to leave. “Meet me at the eastern edge of the camp in a few minutes.”

Drogin waved his goodbye, and she left for the hall, admiring her brother’s handiwork. In the bright sunlight, its polished surface shone like crystal.

* * *

In the middle of the fifth week of preparations, they chose their target. The wizards told Leha that the ziggurat was the largest and most complete of the Automaton cities. It had been built in Uranna, in the lower part of Nettoh, the province Natoma had been tasked with defending. Leha consulted with Natoma and gave it the name Tallatzan Ziggurat; in Urannan, tallatzan meant target.

Using a rare and precious piece of blank paper, Breena sketched Tallatzan’s layout for Leha and the other leaders. The Clanswoman described it as a series of raised platforms built of an unidentifiable, stone-like substance and connected to the ground and each other by a series of ramps.

The ziggurat was centered on a platform that stood twice as high as the others. The machines seemed to use it as a meeting area and a mezzanine. It was empty, save for a tall watchtower crewed by a Wizard-Automaton. The wizards believed a barrier machine had been sealed inside the tower, judging by the local magical currents.

Three other platforms branched out from it to the south, west, and east. Breena described the southern platform as a factory, where they constructed new Automatons, and the eastern one as kind of maintenance area, where smaller machines performed the chores necessary to keep an Automaton running. The western platform had not yet been completed.

After a few minutes of deliberation, they decided that Natoma would lead the forces jumping onto the eastern platform, Leha would command the force taking the center, and Elder Dentu of the Water’s Edge clan would lead the squads on the southern platform. Doga and Eranna would stay on the northern front and keep watch against any counterattacks. Drogin would go with Dentu, and Benefactor, despite his desire for vengeance, would remain at the eastern camp.

It took another five weeks for them to finish their preparations. Five weeks of toil and planning. Five weeks of worry and anticipation. Five weeks of lessening rations and continuing battles with the Automatons.

The day of the attack dawned, hot and clear, the late summer sun rising over the forests to the east and setting fire to the peaks of the Gormorra Range. The forges sat empty, and an eerie quiet pervaded the camp. People said little that they did not need to say as they scurried to their places. The thousands of fighters assembled in the deforested fields around the camp and marched to the jumping points, going to Sy’om and Tyzu, where the attack would be launched from.

In addition to the divisions between the three main forces, each force was divided into dozens of small squads, each with their own objective and location of arrival in the ziggurat. Leha’s squad consisted of fifty soldiers, mostly Tor and Eastenholder; a trio of Clan wizards; and an ice creature charged with maintaining the mental link. They jumped to an ash-coated glacier upon Sy’om and stood in the cold, waiting for Leha to give the order for the attack. She closed her eyes, feeling oddly calm, and waited for Dentu, Natoma, and the leaders of the squads under her command to signal their readiness via the mental link.

When they did, she opened her eyes and commanded her venom glands to begin producing acid. And the attack began.

———————

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Retro Review: Once Upon a Time, Season One: Episodes 18-22

I’ve now come to the last few episodes of Once Upon a Time’s first season. As with the rest of the series to date, they’re a mixed bag, but the good tends to outweigh the bad.

“The Stable Boy”:

As we near the end of the first season, we finally learn a key piece of the backstory to Once Upon a Time: the source of Regina’s enmity towards Snow White.

It all happened when Snow White was a little girl. Regina entrusted her with the secret of her affair with a stable boy, but Regina’s mother, a cruel dark sorceress, was able to pry the truth from Snow, with terrible consequences.

Meanwhile, in Storybrook, Emma continues to try to exonerate Mary Margaret and continues to fail miserably, and August continues to be all mysterious and vaguely creepy.

I found this episode slightly unsatisfying, though I’m not sure why. It hits a good balance of giving Regina a good reason to be angry without compromising Snow’s identity as a person of pure heart.

I guess after all the build-up around Regina and Snow’s rivalry, there was no way the truth would live up to the hype. That’s the danger in delaying these things too long.

The ending is a bit interesting, but it also threatens to resolve the Mary Margaret situation through a deus ex machina, which isn’t the best solution.

Overall rating: 6.7/10

“The Return”:

At last, we get some attention toward Storybrook’s mysterious newcomer, August. It’s overdue.

All indications are that he is in fact Rumpelstiltskin’s son, who came to our world long before the curse. However, the truth may be more complicated.

This is a hard episode to rate. On the one hand, lots of Robert Carlyle, and we finally understand why Rumpelstiltskin forged the curse in the first place. I also like the twist that August isn’t his son after all, because that was feeling a little too obvious.

However, I’m also disappointed that we still haven’t figure out who August actually is. It’s starting to feel a bit like being strung along. Clearly he’s from the fantasy world, or at least somehow gained knowledge of it. The fact he’s immune to the curse seems important.

Overall rating: 7.8/10

“The Stranger”:

Here’s another of one of those times when I have really conflicted feelings on Once Upon a Time.

I didn’t have to deal with my disappoint over the continued mystery of August’s identity for long. He was Pinocchio, and like Emma, he managed to escape the curse before it consumed the land. Now, the curse has disrupted his own magic (or something like that), and he’s turning back into wood.

His only hope is to convince Emma to embrace her destiny… but this is Emma we’re talking about.

Meanwhile, Regina once again tries to get to Snow/Mary Margaret, this time through David/Charming.

There’s a lot to like about this episode. It answers a lot of questions, and it’s one of the times where Once Upon a Time manages to be quite emotional without laying it on too thick. Pinocchio’s story is very touching, a tale of flawed people trying to do their best and not always succeeding.

They managed to erase about ten episodes worth of dislike for August/Pinocchio and actually make me like him, which is no mean feat. I also really enjoyed Tony Amendola’s performance as Geppetto; dude’s got some acting chops.

But there are two blemishes on this otherwise fine episode.

The first, as usual, is Emma. Her continued and utter denial of all evidence of her fantastical origins is getting downright torturous. Maybe it is realistic — I don’t even care at this point. The fact is we as viewers have known she’s wrong for a very long time, and we know she’s going to find out at some point. Stop stringing us along and get to the point already.

The other is David once again proving himself to be an utter and complete schmuck. I guess I know where Emma gets it from.

Overall rating: 7.9/10 The good outweighs the bad.

“An Apple Red as Blood”:

We’re now in the final two episodes of the first season, and these are both episodes that I’d seen before.

As one would expect, events are coming to a head. In the fantasy world, Snow White calls upon all her allies — the Seven Dwarfs, Red, Granny, and the Blue Fairy — to launch a daring strike to rescue Prince Charming… only to find Regina once again one step ahead. This allows Regina to carry out her ultimate revenge on Snow.

In Storybrook, Regina is growing increasingly desperate to find a solution to the Emma situation. She forms a plan with Jefferson the Mad Hatter to use her last scrap of magic to defeat Emma once and for all, taking her past plan to deal with Snow White as inspiration.

I think I actually liked this episode better when I didn’t have the context for everything, though it’s still pretty good.

The main problem is that — now that I know the full story — Regina’s desperate fear of Emma seems oddly baseless. She’s defeated Emma at every turn, to the point where Emma is pretty much giving up at this point, and it’s now painfully clear Emma wouldn’t believe in the curse or try to fight it if it clubbed her over the head.

That niggle aside, “An Apple Red as Blood” is pretty solid. The fantasy side of the story is swashbuckling fun, and the Storybrook side sets the stage for the finale quite well. Emma has finally been forced to confront the curse — she wouldn’t believe if it clubbed her over the head, but now that it’s clubbed Henry over the head, she has no choice.

Overall rating: 7.8/10

“A Land Without Magic” (season finale):

And so we come to the end of the first season of Once Upon a Time. It’s been a somewhat mixed ride, but it ends on a mostly strong note.

Henry has fallen into a deathly coma, forcing Emma and Regina to work together just as they hate each other more than ever.

Rumpelstiltskin, of course, has the answer. He secreted away a bottle of potent magic that can save Henry.

In a dragon.

So that’s fun.

But Rumpelstiltskin has an ulterior motive, as always, and it will change Storybrook irrevocably.

This is a very good ending to the first season. It resolves the issue of the curse, at least partially, while providing a cliffhanger that promises new challenges down the line. I did really enjoy seeing the characters reawaken to their true selves. And we got lots of Rumpelstiltskin, so that’s always good.

It is now clear that everything since before the casting of the curse has been part of some elaborate scheme of Rumpelstiltskin’s, but his purpose remains unclear. He wanted to create the curse so it could be broken? Seems a little convoluted. I’d say it was a scheme to get Belle back, but he seemed genuinely surprised to learn she was still alive — which was another good scene.

I guess it will all be explained at some point.

Something else I greatly appreciated was Regina’s performance in this episode. Her grief over what happened to Henry was quite moving, and it was great to once again see her human side. When I first saw this episode, that level of nuance to Regina’s character was one of the things that got me interested in Once Upon a Time.

My only major complaint, once again, comes from Emma, and I remember ranting about it back when I first saw the show — I think it may have been the origin for my low opinion of her.

If you are fighting a dragon, and your choices of weapons are a legendary sword from an enchanted kingdom and an ordinary pistol, why would you choose the pistol?

On the plus side, that foolishness aside, Emma actually puts on a rare good performance in this episode. Her rage toward Regina is quite a thing to see.

Overall rating: 8/10

Filed under: Retro Reviews Tagged: fantasy, Once Upon a Time, review, TV

Is World of Warcraft Going Buy to Play?

That’s a clickbait title, and I’m not even ashamed of it.

Patch 6.1 for World of Warcraft is approaching, and the datamining has begun. Mostly, this has turned up the sort of things one would expect from the first content patch of an expansion cycle — new daily quests, a continuation of the legendary storyline, system and class tweaks.

But one thing unusual was uncovered, and it’s received surprisingly little attention considering what big news it could be. There is now a new account type listed: veteran.

What’s really interesting is that veteran accounts currently seem to have much the same restrictions as starter edition accounts, the “free to play” accounts that only let you get to level twenty.

Why would a “veteran” account need those restrictions?

Now, here’s where I need to throw up the usual disclaimer about datamining. Blizzard has announced nothing, and it is entirely possible that these veteran accounts are just something Blizzard experimented with and that absolutely nothing will come of this. Even if veteran accounts do turn out to be a thing, they might turn out to be something completely different from what they currently appear to be.

But speculation is fun, so let’s see how far down the rabbit hole we can go.

The prevailing theory is that Blizzard may begin allowing some or all accounts with lapsed subscriptions to continue playing, albeit with limitations.

This is a huge change. That would essentially mean that WoW is transitioning from a subscription game to a buy to play title similar to The Secret World, albeit one with a fairly punitive business model that still requires a subscription to be played to its fullest.

That would hardly be unheard of, though. Star Wars: The Old Republic bills itself as free to play, but really you have to subscribe if you want to play the game in any serious way.

I’m not sure how I feel about this hypothetical buy to play WoW. Regular readers are by now familiar with my passionate hatred of mandatory subscriptions, but as a general rule, punitive business models where you’re crippled if you don’t pay aren’t much of an improvement.

The optimistic part of me thinks that maybe the veteran accounts have the same restrictions as starter accounts because the code was repurposed, and if and when the feature is live, they’ll have fewer limitations.

But given Blizzard’s rather ruthless attitude towards monetizing WoW to date, Heroes of the Storm’s less than stellar business model, and the fact that WoW is a big enough name to get away with pretty much anything, I don’t consider that likely.

However, I can still see upsides to such a change.

The biggest problem with subscriptions is not the expense, but the fact that it makes your participation in the game an all or nothing proposition. If I’m not spending the majority of my gaming time on a title, then the expense of the subscription doesn’t feel worth it. But just because you don’t want to live in a game doesn’t mean you don’t want to play it at all.

I’m not subscribed to WoW right now. I disagree with many of the decisions made by Blizzard recently, so the expense of a new expansion and a subscription doesn’t feel worth it for me.

But I’m at the point now where I’m starting to miss the world and my characters. Not enough to shell out $70+, but enough that I would love to be able to log on for an hour or two every few days.

If I had the option to still play WoW without a sub, even with restrictions placed on me, I’d probably take it. I would love to be able to still solo raids and fiddle around with alts when the mood strikes me without feeling the need to justify the price of an expansion and a subscription.

So despite severe reservations, I find myself cautiously optimistic about the idea of a buy to play WoW… if it actually happens.

That brings us to the question of how likely this is. I find it hard to judge.

On the one hand, mandatory subscriptions are a dying breed and have been for a long time now. WildStar and Elder Scrolls Online were the last great hope of subscription fans, but WildStar is by all reports barely clinging to life, and there are already many hints of a business model change for ESO. None but the most die-hard fans think those games will keep their subscriptions much longer, and the consensus is it would be a big mistake if they did.

WoW has been hemorrhaging subscribers for a long time now. There may have been an uptake with the launch of Warlords of Draenor, but that’s not likely to last. It’s probably about time for a change in tactics.

I’ve gone on record as saying I think WoW would no longer have a mandatory subscription around the time the expansion after WoD launches. Granted, I’ll be the first to admit I pulled that time out of my behind, but the mentions of these veteran accounts are showing up around the time I expected Blizzard to start reconsidering the sub model.

And yes, datamining often does uncover odd things that never amount to anything, but Blizzard didn’t put these strings in for nothing. They are — or at least were — experimenting with new account types, and I struggle to imagine what a restricted “veteran” account could be other than a way to play without a subscription.

The one other possibility that comes to mind is that the veteran accounts may be linked to Blizzard’s announced plans to copy EVE Online’s PLEX and allow players to purchase digital subscription tokens and the sell them in-game, allowing those rich in real world wealth to buy gold legally and the virtually wealthy to play for free. Veteran accounts may be the tag for those who pay their sub with gold.

But then why the restrictions? True, my “repurposed code” theory could explain that, too, but even then, why require a separate tag at all for such accounts? Generally the whole point of a PLEX system is to give those who pay with in-game currency the exact same status as a traditional subscriber.

And there is nothing else in the datamining related to this proposed WoW PLEX system. So the idea of veteran accounts being for those who pay their subscriptions with gold doesn’t seem very plausible.

Despite my rampant speculation, I am taking this all with a huge grain of salt, and I advise you to do the same. I would not be much surprised if the datamined veteran accounts turn out to be nothing at all, or at least something totally different from what I’m imagining.

But it does raise interesting possibilities, doesn’t it?

Filed under: Games Tagged: fantasy, Warcraft, World of Warcraft

Rant: MMO Gamers, Mind Your Own Business

Be warned: I’m dusting off my “epic nerd rant” tag for this post. I’m angry, and I will not be mincing words.

One of the worst things about the MMO community — aside from the rampant misogyny, racism, and homophobia that defines the gaming world — is that there is a large and vocal section of players who seem to feel their preferred style of play is the only correct one, and that anyone who has different preferences is not only wrong, but actually bad for the game.

If you don’t PvP, you’re a spineless carebear. If you do PvP, you’re a ganking troll. If you don’t raid, you’re a scrub. If you do raid, you’re an elitist.

That’s bad enough on its own, but the real problem is that these people will often attack anything that doesn’t fit into their narrow view of how an MMO should be played, lobbying to see such features removed from games entirely and denigrating anyone who enjoys them.

Favourite punching bags for this group include automated group finders, flying mounts, and accessible gear — the so-called “welfare epics,” which is a bit like GamerGate in that it’s a term mainly useful for instantly identifying who is a troglodyte.

Even The Secret World has this problem in spades, which is one of the reasons I don’t think its community is the paradise people make it out to be. Many of the most prominent members of the community are people who will badger the opposition, twist the truth, and outright lie to sell people on the “evils” of the optional quality of life perk that is a group finder.

It is an attack on choice, on diversity of gameplay, which is one of the strengths of the MMO genre. It’s selfish, and it’s petty, and it needs to go away, but it is such a large and powerful part of the MMO community that it seems all but unstoppable.

I do not understand the motivations of those who want everyone to march in lockstep with them. They gain nothing from attempting to tear down any playstyle other than their own.

Some of it probably boils down to the “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ME?!!?!” attitude that pervades the Internet as a whole. We built the greatest means of sharing differing opinions in human history and promptly became horrified and enraged by all the differing opinions we found.

And I don’t want to take the moral high ground here too much, because I’m guilty of disdaining opinions that are not my own, too. We all are to some extent, and I would definitely not consider myself to be someone who’s especially open-minded. However, there is one key area in which I can claim a certain degree of superiority over the “How dare you game differently from me?” crowd, which I’ll get to later.

The main argument that is usually used to justify these attempts to destroy those elements of gameplay they don’t enjoy is that they are forced to participate in them.

But that is of course nonsense.

No one is ever forced to do anything in a game. If you don’t enjoy something, don’t do it. It’s your own fault if you force yourself to do something in a game you find unappealing.

I do think there is a place for complaints about developers making certain elements of gameplay so crucial that they can’t be avoided. I’ve spent plenty of time complaining about the “raid or die” or “rep or die” philosophies World of Warcraft has designed expansions around.

However, there’s a world of difference between tying a game’s entire storyline and progression mechanics into one narrow band of gameplay and optional gameplay features that are perhaps convenient but not strictly necessary for progression.

No one is forced to form groups with an automated tool. In every game I’ve played, you get the same rewards with a premade group. If you prefer to explore the virtual world on a land mount as opposed to a flying one, it’s no one’s fault but your own if you choose the greater convenience of flight. If your guild makes you do content you find tedious in order to get gear, your guild sucks, and you should find one that isn’t composed of pricks.

“But I’ll fall behind the competition if I don’t use every tool at my disposal!”

No, you won’t.

Outside of PvP, MMOs are not a competitive genre, no matter how much some people like to fool themselves into thinking they are. You don’t have to worry about falling behind; you’re not in competition with anyone. The one minor exception would be those guilds who go for world/server first achievements, but those are an infinitesimal minority, and not worth designing games around at the expense of everyone else.

Besides, being the best takes work, so if you really are one of the tiny few pushing the bleeding edge of content and needing every tool at your disposal, well, it comes with the territory. Suck it up, buttercup. This is what you wanted.

Even when things truly are obligatory, it’s still your own fault if you’re engaging in gameplay you don’t enjoy. I railed against Mists of Pandaria’s daily grind not because I hated forcing myself through the dailies, but because I didn’t do the dailies and therefore had my hands tied when it comes to character progression.

And here I come to the most crucial point, and the key difference between me and the “my way or the highway” crowd: If you truly feel something in a game is mandatory for progression, the correct solution is to ask for alternatives, not to try to remove the offending content.

I hated the daily grind in MoP, but never once did I say we should get rid of daily quests — though Blizzard went and did that anyway because they love to throw the baby out with the bathwater. I just wanted them decoupled from valor point gear so I didn’t have to grind solo content to spend my group currency — honestly, who thought that made sense?

I’m not very fond of raiding, but I don’t agree with the viewpoint that says raids should go away altogether. I do feel that the traditional raiding paradigm as established by WoW has a negative impact on the genre for reasons excellently outlined by the always insightful Eliot Lefebvre over at Massively recently, but I don’t think it’s necessary to do away with raids altogether.

But for those who find offense in playstyles other than their own don’t ask for alternatives, or for things to be made more optional. Perhaps this is because at some level they understand that the things they hate are already as optional as can be, or maybe they really are petty enough that they just want to break the toys of those who won’t play their way.

The worst part of all this is that developers actually seem to listen to these people. WoW finally caved to years of troll posts and removed flight. They took tier sets out of the raid finder so that real raiders would not feel obligated to run it, a case of the needs of the few being determined to outweigh the needs of the many in defiance of all Vulcan logic. TSW still lacks a group finder despite it being standard for themepark MMOs everywhere.

I suspect this has less to do with developers legitimately believing the spurious arguments put forth by such individuals and more to do with them using the arguments as justification for actions they wanted to take anyway. It’s easier for WoW to present themselves as listening to fan feedback than it is for them to come right out and say, “We’re placing more restrictions on players so everything will take longer and we get more subscription revenue.”

I’m not sure if that makes me a cynic or an optimist.

So while I know this will fall on deaf ears, I put forth this plea to the MMO community: Live and let live. My flying doesn’t hurt you. My getting gear from sources other than raids doesn’t hurt you. My forming dungeon PUGs without spending two hours spamming chat doesn’t hurt you. I don’t try to take away your toys, so don’t try to take away mine. I shouldn’t be made to suffer for your lack of self control.

In short, mind your own business.

Filed under: Games Tagged: epic nerd rant, fantasy, newbs, The Secret World, video games, Warcraft, World of Warcraft

Rage of the Old Gods, Chapter Eight: Wrath of the Old Gods

After a pause for the holidays, we come now to the eighth chapter of Rage of the Old Gods, the first book of my epic science fantasy trilogy the World Spectrum. In the coming weeks, I will be posting the entire book for free on this blog. If you’re just joining us, you can get caught up with the previous chapters now.

Part two comes to a close as the full fury of the Old Gods is unleashed upon the defenders of Marlhem.

———————

Outside the walls of her home, the sound of a city in panic roared like a distant wind. Alarm bells rang, men and women shouted, and the streets echoed with the sound of running feet.

Inside, Leha sat on the thing she generously called a bed and inspected her armor. The suit of leather had been made specially for her short frame, and it was designed to not impair her flexibility or weigh her down. It covered her body from the neck down, excluding her hands and most of her feet. Over that, she wore her fur cloak.

Outside, a squad of soldiers charged by, shouting.

Leha held forth her hands. Her claws were still in their shortened, nocturnal state, and she regrew them. A makeshift window made from a chunk of broken glass allowed the morning sun to glint off their inky surfaces.

She stood and took a deep breath. Clearing her mind, she opened the door to her home and stepped into the turmoil of the streets.

All around, soldiers ran to take their positions, civilians ran for cover, and everyone shouted. A pair of Lost Ones from the Water’s Edge clan tore past her, followed by a shambling, white-furred member of Benefactor’s people.

Their time had run out. The Automatons had arrived.

Leha summoned the energy of Tyzu and took off for the south wall at a breathtaking speed. It had snowed in the night, and her feet kicked up puffs of white powder as she ran. Her legs became a blur beneath her; her hair blew out behind her; and her cloak cracked and fluttered. She darted through the chaos of people and buildings. Her enhanced reflexes and Tyzu’s wild energy allowed her to move through it with ease. Everyone around her seemed to be going in slow-motion.

It was still early, and the sky to the east glowed pink and orange. To the west, the clouds that had produced the night’s snow hovered still, and a few flakes still drifted onto the city.

Reaching the south wall, she found a stair and leapt. As she soared upward, she closed her eyes and felt the crisp air wash over her. In this weightlessness, it was easy to imagine she was flying, wings carrying her through the early morning air. At the last moment, she opened her eyes and let Sy’om’s placid energy flood over her. She landed softly on the upper stairs.

She climbed the remaining steps and took her position on the battlements.

Yeldar, Doga, and Natoma were already there, gazing out at the plain below. She joined them, her feet crunching in the thin coating of snow on the walls. Cool gusts of wind washed over them in a steady rhythm.

To the south, a line of dark shapes darkened the horizon.

The Automatons. The Old Gods.

A faint rumbling echoed towards them. Leha felt dread creep into her gut.

“Are the skirmishers ready?” she asked.

“Nearly,” Eranna said, stepping onto the battlement.

“They’d best hurry up,” Leha said.

As the dark shapes of the machines crept closer, the walls bustled with activity. Men and women of many nations and two worlds took up positions along the parapet, holding their crossbows and javelins at the ready. Thanks to Natoma’s people, many of the crossbows were loaded with anti-Automaton bolts – more than Leha had seen in some time. Still, many others made do without.

To Leha’s right, atop a tower, the sun glinted off of Drogin’s new feedback weapon, a large, silver-plated horseshoe connected to a complicated system of gears, pulleys, and blocks of lead.

Outside the walls, fighters scurried about the fortified Quadramaton ruin. Two former Automaton technicians loaded the trebuchet atop its back with a small cask of acid, and soldiers armed with crossbows scurried into place all over the outwork.

Farther out, squads of skirmishers moved forward, preparing to harry the enemy’s advance. Among them were what little remained of the cavalry of the human nations. For reasons Leha didn’t fully understand, the Automatons had given special attention towards destroying cavalry and any domestic horses. Seeing the handful of mounted squads dart across the plains, Leha thought it possible that the machines feared their speed. Horses were almost as fast as Automatons in a straight line, and they were more maneuverable.

The shouts of fighters and commanders rippled through the morning air, and the sun glinted off of javelin tips, chain mail, and the staffs of battle wizards. While Leha’s army made ready, the machines drew nearer. Leha enhanced her eyes, and she began to pick out details.

Automatons of every shape and design marched on the city: round-edged Eastenholder Automatons; human-like Urannan Automatons armed with gigantic swords, maces, and axes; tall, blocky Tor Automatons; beast-headed Karkaran machines with taloned hands; one of the original Tor Wizard-Automatons; towering Piran machines wielding staffs of iron; Quadramatons modified to function without their human crews; a pair of multi-legged, insect-like Urannan Sextamatons; and machine-built Wizard-Automatons constructed after the war began.

Many of the human-built Automatons had been modified with better armor or equipment or been upgraded into Wizard-Automatons. Some wore tall metal plates on their chests to protect their vulnerable necks.

Benefactor scuttled up the stairs, moving sideways, and stepped forward onto the battlement, his hooves clacking. We are ready, Leha. The wind ruffled his gray fur.

Leha closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, linking with the alien’s bright, curious mind. Through him, she linked to a network of other ice creatures, and then with the other commanders: Natoma, with her serene and ordered mind; Doga, with his fearful awe of the Old Gods; Eranna, stalwart and prepared; Yeldar, with his stony strength; even Drogin, with his dark and bitter thoughts. Leha felt tempted to peak deeper into those thoughts, to learn the source of his coldness, but she resisted.

Beyond them, her awareness extended farther, encompassing the skirmishers on the plain. She saw the plain through their eyes; she felt the earth shake beneath their feet.

She, along with the other leaders, sent them to face the machines, orchestrating their movements in a dance of raids and retreats.

For the next hour – as the sun rose in the sky, and the snow blew away to the west – the skirmishers slowed the Automatons’ advance. They were too few and too weak to do real harm, but they let fly with their bolts and their spears, damaging and crippling the odd machine. The battlefield was too wide for Leha to control the energy levels throughout it all, but she did what she could. When her men attacked, she flooded them with Tyzu’s power and thus gave their missiles the power to pierce the machines’ armor – at least some of the time. When an Automaton would try to pursue them, she would bring it down to Sy’om’s level of energy.

Wizard-Automatons presented the greatest threat to the fighters on the plain. Battle wizards were too precious a commodity to waste, and most of them had stayed in Marlhem. The skirmishers had little defense against magic, save flight. With the help of the mental link, most of them managed to stay safe. But some did not, and by the time the order came to withdraw to the city, burning scars covered the fields, and the stink of burnt flesh wafted on the winter air.

The Automatons spread out into a crescent moon formation and moved to encircle the city. Leha’s people did what they could to stop them, but they could not hope to halt their advance. By two hours before noon, the Automatons had Marlhem fenced in.

A pause came in the fighting, and Benefactor’s people dissolved the link. Leha looked about. A dark ring of machines surrounded them in all directions. She cursed and agonized silently. While this tactic had not been entirely unexpected, she’d hoped they would be able to concentrate their forces on the south wall. If they had to defend all sides of the city, they would be spread dangerously thin.

Natoma began parceling out their soldiers.

* * *

Thunder.

The thunder of iron hands breaking into stone. The thunder of burning magical strikes smashing against wizard-summoned shields. The thunder of mechanical footfalls smashing into the earth. The thunder of collapsing towers and shattering parapets. It deafened Leha’s ears and rattled her bones.

An hour and a half before noon, the Automatons had attacked. With typical machine brutality, they had charged, leaving naught but their leader, the Machine King, in reserve. All around the walls of Marlhem, they tore into the walls and slaughtered the defenders. The screams of dying men and women provided a grim undertone to the louder cracks and smashes.

The sky above was clear, but the air in the city was choked with smoke, ash, and dust.

Leha’s mind thrummed as she coordinated with the other commanders scattered along the walls – it would be too much to link with every soldier – and did her best to funnel the right energies to the right areas. She had trouble concentrating on her own situation as she also lived the battle through the eyes of Natoma, Drogin, Doga, Eranna, Yeldar, and Benefactor.

To her right, a Karkaran Automaton tore chunks from the wall below the battlement, separating her from the tower where Drogin operated his new weapon. People screamed as the walkway collapsed beneath them. Anti-Automaton bolts had melted much of its boar-like face, giving it an even more nightmarish cast.

To her left, the gap in the south wall had been widened, and a force of human soldiers and battle wizards, connected by one of Benefactor’s people, fought desperately to fend off a pair of sword-wielding Urannan Automatons and two Tor machines.

A Wizard-Automaton, a machine-built one reminiscent of the Old God she had fought on Tyzu, emerged from the smoke. It raised its arm, and a bolt of magic burst forth. A pair of battle wizards on the walls erected a flickering shield, but the finger of energy twisted toward the tower, toward Drogin’s weapon. A high-pitched whine pierced the air, and a second beam of energy extended from Drogin’s machine to the Automaton. Leha quickly flooded the machine with Tyzu’s power, and the magic flared brighter.

The two beams whipped by each other in an oval of light that seared the eyes and raised the hair on the back of Leha’s neck. The Automaton erupted in green-white fire, and it crumpled into a heap of burning metal.

Leha wished they’d built more than one of those weapons.

A great screaming of metal drew her attention, and she saw a Piran Automaton topple the ruined Quadramaton with its staff, its defenders shouting and fighting. Its fall shook the walls and kicked up dust and snow.

The machine threw itself at the walls and raised it staff to strike. Leha felt Tyzu’s power rush through her; she grabbed a javelin from a fallen soldier, and leapt. She glided through the air like a fish through water – she had shed her cloak when the fighting began – and drove the javelin into the thin armor at the base of its neck.

Slowing the Automaton with Sy’om’s energy, she dug her the claws of her toes into its chest for purchase and commanded the venom glands in her fingers to produce acid. With a primal cry, she tore into the armor to either side of the javelin and gouged out a hole. She squinted against the acrid smoke her acid produced. Freed from the Automaton, her javelin plummeted, but she caught it hurled it at the Karkaran machine. Empowered by Tyzuan energy, the missile punched through the Automaton’s hand. Two of its fingers hung limply.

Leha wriggled inside the Piran machine’s frigid interior and wormed her way up its neck, tearing support bars free and sending them to clatter into its chest. The sound echoed uncannily in the dark innards of the machine.

As the neck began to collapse under the weight of the head, she reached a hand up into the space behind its eyes and attacked. Pieces of silver of quartz rained down on her as she destroyed the latticework of its mind.

The entire machine began to fall, and she scurried downwards. The collapse had shrunk the hole in its neck, but she kicked it wider and pulled herself out.

The moment she emerged into the hazy sunlight, the taloned hand of the Karkaran Automaton swung at her. She leapt.

Tyzu’s power carried her high into the air, the wind lashing at her. Up here, above the smoke, she could see far and wide. She could see the fires in the northeast corner of the city, where the mental link told her that Doga’s forces had been forced to retreat into the streets. Below her, she saw the sapphire eyes of the Karkaran Automaton glare at her, and next to it, the Piran machine falling in slow-motion.

She poured Tyzu’s power into the Piran Automaton, and it plummeted with sudden speed. Its arm flew out and struck the Karkaran machine in the chest, sending it crashing to the ground.

The earth rushed up to meet her. She plunged through a bank of hot smoke and barely had time to summon Sy’om’s energy to slow her descent.

Her feet settled in the debris before the wall. To her right, the Karkaran machine twitched feebly. It seemed to have been crippled by the fall.

She leaned against the wall and took a moment to breathe, inhaling the polluted air. Her mind buzzed with information from the other fronts of the battle. Doga’s people were attempting to halt their retreat and make a stand against their mechanical pursuers. On Marlhem’s western flank, Natoma was near to being overrun, but she was doing her best to hold on while the civilians behind her fled to the center of the city. Eranna’s left arm had been broken, and the Automatons were gaining the advantage at her position.

Leha drew herself back to her own surroundings. Judging from the screams to her left, the Automatons were close to breaking through at the gap in the wall. She turned to go to the aid of her people, when a titanic thud shook the earth beneath her.

She spun to face the open plain as a nightmare emerged from the smoke. It towered above the wall as an adult would tower over a child. Plates of silver formed jagged, glittering bracelets around its wrists, and its dark surface seemed to feed on the sunlight. Atop its head, above its blazing eyes, three prongs of iron attacked the sky.

Leha fought her terror as she beheld the lord of all Automatons.

She had known it had come with the machine army. She’d caught glimpses of it throughout the day, prowling behind the Automaton lines. But it had not joined the battle proper.

Now it had.

The Machine King glanced down at her, and her soft, brown eyes met the hard, azure gaze of the Automaton.

Leha gasped. Somewhere, deep inside that cold engine of hate, she saw something terribly, impossibly familiar. “No,” she breathed.

Somehow, this was the same machine she had fought on Tyzu, six months ago.

Her shock broadcasted itself across the mental link. Doga stumbled and narrowly avoided being struck by a piece of a wall hurled by an Automaton. Benefactor bleated and jerked his lower jaw back and forth in fear. Natoma winced and nearly threw off her aim as she fired a crossbow.

The Automaton Lord’s gaze bored through Leha’s mind. As it had six months previously, a cold and inhuman voice entered her thoughts. I remember you. Contained in those words was a malice that froze her heart.

It raised its fist, and a burst of green-white energy leapt forth to destroy her. Leha held her arms in front of her face and screamed.

At the last moment, the magic changed course, flew up and over the wall, and met Drogin’s machine. A second bolt of energy leapt from the weapon and completed the circuit with the Automaton Lord.

Feeling a surge of hope, Leha flooded the machine with Tyzu’s power. The energy loop blazed brighter, and she felt a surge of vindictive pleasure. She braced her feet, forced her eyes to acclimatize to the glare, and waited for the inevitable explosion to come, smiling fiercely.

But it didn’t come. The magic hissed and blazed and burned, but the machine held its ground. Leha’s smile faded, and her heart beat faster. Something’s wrong.

She looked up and saw Drogin’s weapon crackle and spark. It’s not going to work. Her heart raced, and adrenaline sang through her veins. She dug her claws into the bricks of the wall and scurried up as fast as her limbs would take her. She reached for Tyzu and felt a hot rush of power envelope her. Her limbs blurred, and she moved faster than she ever had before. Everything around her – the advancing machines, the few remaining human soldiers, the clouds of dust and smoke – seemed to slow down and almost freeze. She pushed the mental link from her mind, and focused all her attention on reaching her brother.

She vaulted onto the battlement and leapt for Drogin’s tower. She tore through the air, the wind shouting at her, and landed hard against the side of the tower. She dug in with her claws and scrabbled onto the summit of the tower. Drogin’s machine burned before her, and soldiers ran and screamed as it disintegrated. A piece of semi-molten lead ejected itself from the machine and shot past her head as she dove for her brother. He didn’t seem to have noticed her; his face was frozen into a mask of disbelief. She wrapped her arms around his waist and jumped from the tower, never breaking stride.

The weapon exploded.

Its death roar reverberated in her ears, and a wave of hot air smashed into her from behind, hurling her forward. Hot gravel and ash pelted her back as she soared over the streets. The blast lit up the southwestern quarter of the city.

Burning rubble fell around Leha and her dazed brother as they plummeted downward. Leha tried to slow their descent with Sy’om’s power, but the weapon’s destruction had thrown the energy currents into disarray, and she only achieved a partial deceleration.

Leha’s feet smacked into the snow, and pain shot through her legs. She cried out and tumbled, sending Drogin flying. Her brother’s wand clanged against a nearby wall, and he smacked into the snow with a grunt.

Leha clutched her legs and held back sobs. She didn’t seem to have broken anything, but she was in a great deal of pain.

Drogin came to his feet and stumbled over to his wand. Upon retrieving it, he turned around and gaped at the direction they’d come from. The pain in her legs had subsided somewhat, and Leha looked too. Her mouth hung open.

For millennia, “wrath of the Old Gods” had been a curse reserved for only the most dire of situations. Now, she knew why. Beyond the ruined townhouse they stood in the shadow of, through the pall of dark smoke, she saw that the tower had become nothing but a smoking crater in the walls. Bits of stone and mortar rained down still, and next to that ruin, the three-pronged crown of the Automaton Lord towered over the city streets. It had breached the walls, and now it tore through roofs and walls and soldiers as if they were nothing. Its magic flared, and new fires were birthed.

Leha felt Benefactor touch the edge of her thoughts. Leha, are you well?

A flash of magic tore through another building in the direction of the Machine King. We have to get out of here, she sent. Call everyone. We have to get to Tyzu.

She sensed him duck his head. Yes. I will do it.

Leha turned her eyes to her brother. “We need to get going. The city is lost; we’ve got to get to Tyzu.”

Drogin blinked. He seemed to come back to his senses. He nodded.

Gritting her teeth, she struggled against the pain and tried to stand. Without thinking, she extended an arm, inviting Drogin’s help.

He stared at her. “Do – do you need help?”

She clenched her jaw and glared at him. “No. I’m fine on my own.”

With great effort, she came to her feet and began to hobble toward the center of the city, toward the market and Tyzu. Every step sent sharp pains shooting up her legs, but the continuing cacophony of the Automaton Lord’s assault pressed her to hurry. She funneled Tyzu’s power into her legs, pushing them to move and heal faster.

Over time, they met up with soldiers, who formed a guard around them, and together their group fled through the streets, always just ahead of the wave of destruction that was the Automatons.

Leha’s mind turned back to that day, more than six months ago, when she had flown from Three Gates. The reek of smoke, the cries of the displaced, and the roar of battle were the same as they had been on that dark day.

But something was different. This time, no one was left behind. No one faced the terror alone. The ice creatures connected everyone into groups, and those groups functioned as one. If one of their number was wounded, the others would help them. The retreat’s chaos had an order.

In her mind, Leha saw Natoma carry Eranna’s wounded form on her back. She saw a crowd of Tor citizens work together to carry Benefactor; he would be too slow on his own. She saw Doga run all-out for the market, carrying a child with an injured head.

This time, no one would be left behind.

After what felt like an eternity of stumbling on her wounded legs, Leha made it to the market along with the rest of her group. Yeldar stood in the center, barking orders to the people that milled around him. Most of the city had already made the journey to Tyzu, and those that remained were being sent off in groups of dozens. Each time a group made the trip, a bright flash would illuminate the former market.

The Automatons approached. A ring of smoke, dust, and fire seemed to be closing in on the market.

Natoma, her face artfully dusted with ash, ran forward. “Nearly everyone is through. I ordered the wizards to alternate which Lost One village they send people to so things won’t become too crowded. I sent Doga and Eranna to the Watching Eye clan village; I assume that’s where you’ll want to be.”

Leha swayed on her aching legs, panting. “Thank you,” she gasped, wishing she could offer a better reward.

Natoma gestured to the cleared area around the jumping point. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Thank you,” Leha said again. She grabbed Drogin by the arm and dragged him towards the jumping point.

She, together with her brother and several others, took their positions. Natoma saluted her with one hand. The Urannan seemed unfazed by the ruination around her.

A battle wizard stepped forward. He raised his staff, Leha took a deep breath, and there was a flash.

———————

Enjoying the story so far? The next chapter will be posted soon, but if you can’t wait, you also have the opportunity buy the full ebook now!

Filed under: My writing, World Spectrum Tagged: books, fantasy, Rage of the Old Gods free chapters, sci-fi, steampunk, The World Spectrum, writing

Original Fiction: Warrior’s Rest + Supporting a Friend

Because I am a cheap bastard and a terrible son all around, my only Christmas present to my father this year was a story I wrote in his honour. He’s my biggest fan, and he loves pretty much everything I write.

The end result is Warrior’s Rest, a story I threw together in half an hour late at night. I wouldn’t consider it my best work, but my father liked it, and that’s the important thing. In fact, he liked it enough to insist I post it on this here blog, so here we are.

Enjoy.

——————–

Warrior’s Rest

© 2014 by Tyler F.M. Edwards.

The old man shuffled down what had once been a road, now just overgrown cobblestones choked by grass and weeds. Trees hung their branches overhead, swaying in a warm summer breeze.

All around, life was in full bloom. But the old man saw only death. In verdancy, he saw desolation. In growth, he saw ruin.

Once, a lifetime ago, this had been his home, a thriving village filled with the baying of hounds and the laughter of children.

He had left a long time ago. He had gone to war in search of glory. He had planned to return home with great wealth and honor, to become a respected man among his village and retire to a life of peace and plenty.

But wars dragged on, and roads stretched forward into infinity. The years had slipped by, and he had never seen his home again.

And now it was gone. Only broken cobblestones and shattered foundations remained to mark where a vibrant community had once stood. Perhaps the war had swept over it and snuffed it out, or maybe it had simply been abandoned.

He had thought he was doing the right thing. He had thought he was fighting for his people, to keep them safe, to honor their names. But what had it been worth, in the end? He had saved no one, and now everyone he had once loved was gone.

The man shuffled onward, his bones aching. The wind sighed through his white hair.

He came to one particular stone foundation, moss-grown and empty. This had been his home, so long ago.

His feet dragged with every step now, but he made his way into the ruins. His joints creaking, he sat down on the mossy ground where his bed had once stood. Here he had slept and dreamed of glory on the battlefield. Here he had shared his first kiss with the neighbor’s daughter. Here, he had been happy.

He lay down and closed his eyes. He was so very, very tired.

* * *

The old man dreamed. He dreamed without form or shape; light and color, sound and feeling dancing through his mind for time uncounted.

Slowly – so very slowly – awareness returned. He felt the warmth of the sun, and the kiss of the wind. The aches of his old body were gone, and a sense of peace settled upon him. Over long stretches of time, he felt his consciousness expand, up through the air and down into the earth.

And then he felt a great joy, warm and radiant as the summer sun, as he became aware of others around him, for he recognized them. They were all the people he had once known: his mother and father, the boys he had played with as a child, and even the neighbor’s daughter.

In the years that followed, travelers began to journey through the ruins of the village on their way to other places, and often they would stop to rest beneath the boughs of a great oak tree growing in the shell of one home. The leaves would rustle above them, even when the wind was not blowing.

And they said it sounded like an old man’s laughter.

——————–

In other news, an old friend of mine from back in the bad old days at TrekUnited has just started a page on Facebook to show off her writing. Judging by her stellar opening statement, this is a page that is worth your attention.

And while you’re at it, remember that I, too, have an official presence on Facebook, where you can get regular updates on my books, blogs, and interests.

Filed under: My writing Tagged: fantasy, original fiction, writing

Review: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

Once again, the call of Middle-Earth has brought me creeping back to civilization from my abode in the fetid wildlands. The last installment of the Hobbit trilogy is upon us, and I would not miss it for all the gold in Erebor.

Mmm, that’s a nerdy reference.

In the end, it was not the spectacular that the Lord of the Rings films were, but I couldn’t rightly call it a disappointment.

Smoke on the water:

Whereas the Desolation of Smaug was fairly plodding, the Battle of the Five Armies hits the ground running and never slows its pace, picking up immediately after the previous movie with Smaug raining destruction on Laketown.

While his role is relatively small this time around, I was once again blown away by how pitch-perfect Smaug is in these films. Every about his visuals and voice-overs is absolutely stellar.

Dragons are so overexposed in the fantasy genre that they’ve become a little blase, but Smaug reminds me of why we all loved dragons. Done properly, they are both majestic and terrible, and Smaug embodies that perfectly.

Shortly afterward, the audience is treated to the White Council’s confrontation with the Necromancer of Mirkwood, Sauron in truth, at Dol Guldur.

This is a scene that I will point to for years to come as an example of why I love the fantasy genre. It is a clash of powers beyond mortal comprehension, and a triumph of the cinematic art. The Nazgul are more frightening than ever, and Galadriel’s power is both awesome and terrible.

The rest of the movie can’t really hold up to the mind-blowing majesty of these early scenes, but it still proves an enjoyable ride.

I will have war:

The Battle of the Five Armies is pretty much a non-stop action sequence. If the last film was a little too sluggish and bogged down in unnecessary details, then Five Armies can feel a little thin with its endless battles and unending procession of fantastic monsters.

Still, this isn’t Michael Bay does Middle-Earth. There’s still enough character and feeling to keep things from feeling completely mindless.

I am forced to conclude that splitting the book into three movies was probably a mistake. Two movies would have been fine, I think, but three did stretch it out a little too much.

Still, I wouldn’t call this a crippling flaw, and for what it’s worth, Desolation of Smaug suffered from the stretching a lot more than Five Armies did. But I do think the last two movies would have been a bit more satisfying if they had been combined to create a balance between character, backstory, and action.

I have a few other minor issues with the movie, too. One is that Thorin’s descent into madness is a little over-the-top. They made it too surreal, too sudden, and a little too hammy, and it cheapened the message of the story — that greed corrupts.

My one other issue is that I would have liked a little more tie-in to Lord of the Rings near the end. Sauron more or less vanishes from the story after his defeat at Dol Guldur.

This is accurate to the book, as the battle with the Necromancer was little more than a footnote in The Hobbit, but since they were already adding in the stuff from the appendices and Lord of the Rings, I don’t see why they couldn’t have slipped a little nod in. Maybe we could see Saruman peering into the Palantir and confronting Sauron for the first time.

It’s just a little jarring to have this unbelievably epic battle between him and the White Council at the beginning, only to have that entire story arc vanish thereafter.

On the other hand, there’s a tremendous amount of subtle detail in Five Armies that I truly enjoyed. Things like the beautiful discipline of an Elven army, the boisterous courage of the Dwarves, and the scrappy tenacity of the people of Laketown. The Elven king mourning the immortal lives lost under his command, and little nods to the greater mythology, such as Galadriel calling Sauron, “Servant of Morgoth.”

More so than in all the past movies — perhaps even the Lord of the Rings trilogy — Five Armies is a film where Middle-Earth and all of its rich cultures are brought to life in wondrous detail, and for a fan like me, that’s just wonderful.

Overall rating: 8.9/10

Filed under: Reviews Tagged: fantasy, movies, review, The Hobbit

Holiday Gaming: Master Skins and Magic Flutes

The holiday lull is always a good time to get caught up on one’s gaming. In my case, I wound up focusing my attention once again on The Secret World and Heroes of the Storm, enjoying the holiday festivities of both.

The Christmas Conspiracy:

After the home-run that was Halloween’s new mission, I was actually a bit disappointing by TSW’s new addition to the Christmas event. I’m sure it’s a lot of fun if you’re a fan of puzzles and/or opera, but I’m not particularly keen on either, so I wound up finding the mission rather tedious.

A new player begged me for help on the final instance because he couldn’t defeat the mobs, but in the end, he wound up carrying me much more than I carried him, because I never would have solved the puzzles on my own. I just shuffled along and beat up Phoenicians like the trained ape I apparently am.

Also, how many damn times are we gonna have to beat Lydia, anyway?

I decided to simply not repeat the mission, but that presented a problem, because the new outfit is supremely swanky. My only hope was to buy everything I wanted — for all my alts — at auction.

So I wound up selling signets, turning Aurei into augment upgrade toolkits to sell, vendoring green toolkits I’d been hoarding, and basically doing everything to make pax short of turning tricks in Darkside. On the plus side, I made thirteen million pax in the first three days.

In the end, I got pretty much everything I wanted, and it cost me a lot less than I initially expected, so I’ve ended the event wealthier than I started.

Thank Grilled Cheesus I didn’t want any of the epic items…

But the event had plenty more to offer. The return of Super Hel and the Mayan Apocalypse is welcome, and I’m very happy they brought back the communal loot bag concept from Halloween.

It’s a great way to bring people together. Sure, you can just dump the loot on the hug-pile that inevitable springs up in Agartha, but where’s the fun in that?

I took mine to Kingsmouth and rounded up a crowd of mainly new or low level players. We had a short impromptu party atop the police station, and one of the lowbies got the zombie polar bear pet, which is the rarest item in this event. It felt good.

And, of course, using the public loot bag earned me the new /dance_single_ladies emote.

It’s amazing. I mean, I’m no Beyonce fan, but this dance is hilarious. Especially on a male character. Especially with fist weapons equipped.

Speaking of a sense of community…

It’s beginning to look a lot like fish-men…

On Christmas Eve, I tuned in for Moiren‘s now-traditional drunken Lovecraftian Christmas carol sing-along livestream.

As has happened in the past, I wound up logging on to join her in her adventures and doing all sorts of random things. I spent much of the time on my latest alt, and the experience proved quite a boon to my fledgling second Dragon.

I was able to mooch free runs through the first three dungeons, which is great because I almost never get to run dungeons in TSW. I was once again reminded of how much I love Darkness War. Epic war, rifts in space and time, and Vikings. What more could anyone want from a video game?

At one point, we wound up killing one of the Vestiges of Nameless Days in the Shadowy Forest. If you want to feel like a badass, spend half an hour running through Transylvania on a character who hasn’t even finished Kingsmouth yet.

EVERYTHING IN THIS ZONE CAN ONE-SHOT ME, AND I DON’T EVEN CARE. TREMBLE BEFORE MY QL1 BLUES.

It’s a bit of a blur after that. I seem to recall a dance party in Niflheim at one point…

With my family scattered to the winds, the holidays can be a bit of a lonely time for me, but a night of virtual Vikings, bad jokes, and drunken songs about Mi-go took a lot of the sting out.

The ice woman cometh:

I haven’t been doing many posts on Heroes of the Storm, but I’m still playing it regularly. I just haven’t had much to say about beyond my initial thoughts. I still think it’s a very fun game somewhat marred by an overbearing business model and an absolutely atrocious community.*

*(To be fair, all game communities are absolutely atrocious. Except TSW’s, which is only partially atrocious.)

However, December was an eventful month for me where Heroes is concerned.

This month saw the long-overdue release of Jaina Proudmoore. After seeing how long it took Anub’arak and Azmodan to make it into the free rotation, I decided to take a chance and buy Jaina as soon as she dropped to 10,000 gold.

I’m glad I did. Jaina almost instantly supplanted Tassadar as my favourite hero. I love her burst, her area of effect damage, her utility, her spell effects, her voice-overs… She’s just a complete blast to play.

I think a lot of it also boils down to being a big fan of Jaina as a character. Or at least the character she used to be.

And that’s the wonderful thing about Heroes. Every character is frozen at their moment of greatest awesomeness. In Heroes, Jaina isn’t some emotionally erratic nincompoop. She’s the calm-headed badass she used to be. If World of Warcraft has failed Jaina, then at least I can still bask in her awesomeness in this game.

The greatest glitch ever: Jaina Proudmoore surfing on a dinosaur.

I was worried going in, because people on the forums were wailing about Jaina being extremely weak, but I haven’t found that to be the case at all. I’ve had great success with her, consistently. Maybe she’s only effective at relatively low MMR; I don’t know.

Part of the problem might be that Jaina is a very different kind of assassin. People seem to be expecting her to be like Valla or Nova — capable of blowing up single targets effortlessly — but Jaina isn’t very good at that. She’s not a duelist.

Where Jaina excels is in team fights. Her massive area of effect damage and slows are devastating in large brawls, and those are where games are decided. She’s a force to be reckoned with on maps with lots of big team fights in tight spaces, like Cursed Hollow and Blackheart’s Bay.

I loved Jaina so much that I resolved to make her my first hero to reach level ten. I treated myself to one of the new stimpacks (XP boosters) for Christmas, and together with the 25% holiday XP boost, I proceeded to rake in the experience hand over fist.

Even so, it was an abominable grind. I can’t complain too much, since all the rewards for hero leveling past level five are purely cosmetic, but my God, such a grind.

But it was worth it in the end. At long last, I unlocked her master skin, and it is magnificent, especially the red tint.

Don’t think I’ll be unlocking any other master skins any time soon, though.

* * *

Because one isn’t enough, here’s another shot of my Dragon doing the Single Ladies dance:

Filed under: Games Tagged: fantasy, Heroes of the Storm, sci-fi, The Secret World

Reminder: World Spectrum Holiday Sale 2014

From now through December 26th, my World Spectrum series of science fantasy novels is available for 50% off on Smashwords. This means you can get the entire trilogy for under $5, less than the price of most paperbacks.

Curling up with your ereader for some epic adventure is a nice way to take a load off after all the stress of holiday shopping, and Smashwords ebooks are DRM free, so you can also purchase them and then send them to friends as gifts. A great choice for any readers or fantasy fans on your shopping list.

There are only a few days left to take advantage of these deals, so act now!

Filed under: My writing, World Spectrum Tagged: books, fantasy, sci-fi, steampunk, The World Spectrum, writing

Why Overwatch’s Push for Diversity Matters + Writing News

Blizzard’s announcement of Overwatch at this year’s BlizzCon caused a stir in the gaming industry for a number of reasons. Not only is it Blizzard’s first new game franchise in nearly two decades, but to the surprise of all, it represents a strong and conscious push towards diversity and inclusiveness, with a multi-ethnic cast and several prominent and non-stereotypical female characters.

In my latest article for ADANAI, I take a look at why Overwatch’s diversity is important, both for Blizzard and for the industry as a whole.

“What’s important though is Blizzard’s effort to be inclusive.  That alone puts it ahead of the pack in the gaming industry, where such concerns tend to be ignored outright.  They might not do a perfect job; they might stumble along the way, but as long as the willpower to be sensitive to such issues is there so is the potential for improvement.”

In other news:

That’s not my only recently published article making its rounds on the web, though. Over at WhatMMO, I’ve published another new player guide, this one devoted to helping people decide what class to play.

Reminder: World Spectrum holiday sale

From now through December 26th, my World Spectrum series of science fantasy novels is available for 50% off on Smashwords. This means you can get the entire trilogy for under $5, less than the price of most paperbacks.

Curling up with your ereader for some epic adventure is a nice way to take a load off after all the stress of holiday shopping, and Smashwords ebooks are DRM free, so you can also purchase them and then send them to friends as gifts. A great choice for any readers or fantasy fans on your shopping list.

Filed under: Games, My writing Tagged: books, fantasy, Overwatch, sci-fi, steampunk, The World Spectrum, writing