Rival Gates's Blog, page 17

Character Post: "Anvar"

My character profile for my new book, “Repercussions Abound” stops today to discuss perhaps the most beloved character in the series; Anvar Greenlith. He is Linvin’s uncle on his mother’s side and the closest thing he has had to a father for many years. When Linvin was studying and then in the army in Valia, only Anvar came to visit him. Years later, when Linvin came home, Anvar helped him assimilate to his new role as the head of the Grithinshield Trading Company. Anvar guided him in his search for the Red Sapphire and taught him the basics of magic so he might use it. As an Orange Magician, Anvar is powerful in his own right in spite of his advanced age and diminutive stature. He killed his share of goblins and destroyed half of the Mandrean capital of Marinhalk. Now Anvar has been kidnapped by Mandrean’s evil savant Necromancer. He was taken in the spring and Linvin was given an ultimatum. Either Linvin surrenders himself for execution before the first frost in Marinhalk or Anvar will be killed. It is late summer as the book begins and there is no sign of Linvin. The reason for his absence? He was struck on the head and has lost his memory. Linvin believes his name is Argentoe and he is working on a farm in the territory. There is no thought of Anvar or his plight. Ever the optimist, Anvar continues to hold out hope, even in the face of the one person allowed to be in his company; Necromancer. The two play chess every day and act like they are not adversaries. Anvar is a terrific character. He is the type of person you sit down and have a beer with. Take the title of the book to heart, though. This is a tough one to call.

Character Post: Mandrean

Continuing our look at the cast of my new book, “Repercussions Abound” we have looked at the protagonist. Today we are going to look at the antagonist, Lord Mandrean the 13th. Mandrean has size on Linvin. He is several inches taller and many inches wider. He is a lazy person who relies on others for everything. Mandrean has the mentality of a spoiled child. Rather than accepting responsibility for his crumbling empire and initial loss to Linvin Grithinshield, he blames others and Linvin in particular. He believes that defeating Linvin will restore the people’s faith in him and put all thought of revolution out of the air. Never mind that the people are starving, the taxes and backbreaking and the road system has fallen apart. Mandrean is convinced bringing Linvin to be executed in front of his subjects will put things back in order. He wears a newly crafted Dwarven plate armor while he carries his family’s sword. It is a long sword much longer than Linvin’s broadsword Falconfeather. It has teeth on both sides of the blade pointed back at the hilt. They serve several purposes. In combat, opponent’s swords often get caught in the teeth and dislodged from their owner’s hands. Furthermore, if the blade slashes an opponent it will tear either his armor or skin. Finally, if the sword pierces an opponent, when it is withdrawn from the inside the teeth will mutilate the hole from within causing fatal damage. As it is called in the books, it is a butcher’s weapon and not suitable of anyone with honor. As devastating as the sword is, Falconfeather has certain advantages over it. Its speed is far greater and its length is better suited to close quarters fighting. The most important difference is the user. Mandrean was once a great warrior, but time and corruption have robbed him of much of his abilities. Even he fears an even fight with Linvin. His mind, however, has lost none of its diabolical nature and he has plenty of puppets to do his bidding.

Character Post

Starting today I’m going to introduce you to all the characters of note in my latest book, “Repercussions Abound.” Today we lead off with the most important character and protagonist in the book; Linvin Grithinshield. He was twelve when his father learned that his son was meant to use the mighty Red Sapphire. Linvin was sent away to train with Sedemihcra, the Master Trainer of Combat and Warfare. When he came of age Linvin joined the Valian Army. He moved up quickly with his knowledge of tactics and combat. By his mid to later twenties Linvin was named Supreme Commander of all Valian forces. Then a sudden message from his mother forced him to resign his commission and ride for home in haste. Upon arriving he was told his father was missing and the family business needed Linvin’s guiding hand. After setting the retail conglomerate on sound financial ground Linvin settled into his new life as a merchant. It was to be short-lived. Assassins killed his mother and were coming for Linvin. He, his uncle Anvar and his cousins Bander and Rander had to flee and search out the mythical gem. They found it and Linvin’s Life changed forever. In finding it he made a bitter enemy of Lord Mandrean of the Mandrean Empire. Seeking revenge, Mandrean kidnaps Anvar as bait to lure Linvin into a trap. Knowing that’s what it is Linvin had no choice but to go anyway. Along the way Linvin stops to help some helpless farmers being attacked by bandits only to be cracked on the head by a shovel. When he awakes his memory is gone. He loses the red sapphire and seeks to help the family set up their new farm. Meanwhile Anvar waits in a prison cell for his nephew to come to his rescue. Will Linvin have his memory restored in time? Can he save Anvar even if he does? It’s him and his experience against the empire. The odds are not good.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Soon, a great half-elf male sleeping next to an average-sized human female was clearly nestled in the morning light. A butterfly drifted through the window and landed on the headboard just above the man. He woke as the sun hit his eyelids and struggled momentarily to find his bearings. When he spied the guest, he smiled. Carefully he lifted his forefinger to see if it would climb aboard. Sadly, the insect flapped its wings vigorously and left as it had entered.
He rolled toward the woman and propped his head up with his hand. She was a beauty if ever there was one lying by his side. Her soft, gently tanned skin took on a radiant aura in the morning sun. Long flowing locks of honey brown hair ran down her right side as she lay on her left, with her tranquil face pointed directly at him. Both her hands were under her cheek, but the left one betrayed the slightest glimpse of a ring matching the man’s.
He took his finger on his free hand and touched her knee. Then he slowly pulled it over the blanket and up the thigh. He passed her waist and skipped to the elbow of her nightgown. From there he slowly caressed her arm until he reached her neck. His fingers ever so gently slipped behind the head and held it firm. Then he moved in slowly and placed a tender kiss on her lips.
At first she was surprised and then kissed him back. Her hypnotic emerald green eyes immediately focused on his blue ones and held his gaze. “Good morning Argentoe, My Beloved. You seem full of vigor so early in the morning.”
Argentoe slid his arms under the covers and tickled her. “It is not morning yet, Corilon. The moon just happens to be particularly bright tonight.”
She laughed at the tickling and swatted him half-heartedly. “Sorry to bring you back to reality, but it is morning and there is hay to be harvested. The others will be waiting by the great house. We best not be late again.”
Argentoe used his great strength to pick her up and place her face to face on top of him. “They will have to wait, My Wife. You promised two months ago when we wed to obey me, and right now my command is that you spend some quality time, right now, in this bed with me.”
“Are you not still tired from last night? Besides, I never promised to obey you. That was never in the marriage vows. I checked.”
Argentoe was both actually surprised and overplaying it for fun. “I could have sworn it said…”
“Nope. Not once did it say anything about obeying. I wouldn’t have married you if it had.”
Argentoe mumbled something under his breath that even Corilon could not make out at her close range and then said, “Well, it was implied that you should obey me.”
Corilon wrapped her legs around her husband and pinched his cheek. “Oh, it was implied. Well, if we are going by those rules then there is some washing and mending of the clothes you can do for me. And then…”

December 7th

It’s sad how many people I talk to who don’t know the significance of December 7th. Many tell me it means there are only 17 more shopping days before Christmas. My heart just sinks. I may not have been born in the Greatest Generation, but I was taught the significance of this day well. It is the anniversary of the sneak attack by Japan on the Hawaiian Islands and most notably Pearl Harbor. When I point it out people they say, “Oh, the happened today?” or “What’s Pearl Harbor?” When I hear this last question the ignorance bothers me and I tell them it was every bit as bad if not worse than the 911 bombings. It dragged the United States into a war costing hundreds of thousands of American lives that could only be ended by dropping 2 nuclear bombs on Japan. For the civilians and soldiers that died that day all that we can do is remember them. Perhaps there’s a brief mention on the nightly news about the anniversary. It is just sad when this day comes up and few remember it and fewer will remember in the future.

Tuesday Excerpt

At last Seven took to his feet again and was immediately confronted with Necromancer. The court magician did not say a word. He looked closely at Seven and then showed the slightest glimmer of a smile. Finally, he moved his face just across from Seven’s and said, “It would seem you have business to which you must attend. Get to it.” With that, he hovered toward the balcony as ordered.
Seven walked over to the bleeding mass that called itself Linvin and saw the guards still surrounding him. “All of you leave now,”
Seven told them. “I have this duty.”
An angry guard answered, “We will guard you. This fish is too slippery to be left alone. You may not be able to handle him.”
Seven knelt by the body and asked, “Do you know what it means to be a Mandrean Assassin?” In the time it took to snap one’s fingers, he threw a knife through the neck of the goblin who doubted him. Addressing the dying body he said, “It means I can kill anyone up to the rank of general and not have to give a reason. So if your friend over here annoys me…” He threw a knife with his other hand and again struck a goblin in the neck and dropped him in an instant. “…then I can kill him and not give a reason either. Does anyone else want to interrupt me or stay in my presence?” The other goblins ran for the great doors and took the guards there with them. Linvin and Seven were alone.

Going It Alone

For those who missed my blog appearance a couple of weeks ago, here was the piece I wrote.
Going It Alone

Let me tell you a story. A young man (ok a teenager) came up with this idea for a short story. As he worked out the details the story became longer and longer until it turned into a novella. But the story was not finished. Every idea like a snowball rolling down a mountain side just grew and added more to the storyline. At last the young man looked down and saw he had a novel he could write with the potential of others to follow. In the weeks that followed he carefully crafted the first chapter and presented it to his father, an editor by trade, for review. The next morning over breakfast the Young Man asked his father what he thought of the first draft of the chapter. His father sat down his coffee, slammed his fist on the table and proceeded to tear the papers in half and then into quarters. When he was done he dropped the papers on the ground and left for work. Heartbroken the boy fell to the ground and picked up the pieces and held them to his chest. Being late for school he hid the papers in his room and ran out the door. As he briskly walked to school he realized, My ideas are good but my writing isn’t good enough yet. I must fix that. He paid more attention in English class as they studied the great writers of the past. But where he really excelled was in creative writing. After working through some grammatical problems his stories were always top of the class. In fact one was so good it was entered and won an Ontario Provincial Contest. His success mounted in high school as he was asked to write numerous school plays. Never, in all that time did he tell anyone outside his family about his books. He had already finished the first one and was working on the second. Then college came and there was little time for working on books. So he thought about a different part of the series every night before bed. He told one friend about them and let her read a few chapters. She was astounded and said it should be published. He was unprepared for ridicule again and refused to try. After graduation he married his college sweetheart who had no interest in the books as long as it wasn’t an inconvenience. They had 3 children together and finally bought a computer. He began transferring his books onto it and printing copies for his one supporter to keep safe. Through all the years, his mother loved to hear the stories over and over. She said he had a “Gift.” Little did he know when he gave her the chapters that she was loaning them out to her friends. He built up quite a following as it turns out as the ladies bickered over who received a chapter next. It was years later he found that out. Many years came and went and his parents came to visit from far away. She asked to go for a drive. That was always a fun thing for the two of them to do. As they drove she informed him that she had terminal cancer and that she would not be visiting again or be around much longer. She said she wanted one favor from him. He said to name it and she said, “Publish your books.” When she got home she went straight into hospice and died a couple weeks later.
As you may have guessed, the main character of this story is me. The time to go it alone was over. I made a promise I would keep. It took time but I found an agent who found me a publisher. I now have 4 books in print with more to come as time permits.
Going it alone is very dangerous. It is hard to grow as a writer without constructive feedback. It may be harsh but break it down to information you can use. Going it alone also means that no one else sees your work. Trust me, there is no better feeling than when someone comes up and says they loved your book. Deep down you wrote it to be read. It wants to be read. Polish it up and find a publisher. Do your homework and surround yourself with good people. Don’t wait for the horrible wake-up call I did before acting. What’s the worst that can happen? You’re right back where you are, but you tried.

Black Holiday

Ah, Thanksgiving! A day to relax or cook but either way, end the day enjoying your family. It is a uniquely American holiday copied by the Canadians. Then the sales started. They were subtle when I was growing up. There would be ads and sales. There wasn’t much hype. Then came Black Friday. Suddenly every retailer was trying to outdo their competition. There was nothing subtle about it. We were bombarded with ads in the paper and on TV. Soon the whole weekend was engulfed in the frenzy. Enter the internet. Shopping on line had grown as a percentage of sales every year. Why? Instead of running from store to store where something may be in stock and searching for it, you can sit in your pajamas and do your shopping with free shipping. That meant there had to be a day for this. Enter Cyber Monday. Some companies have extended their sale to Tuesday in case you were busy. Then the war started over who would open first for Black Friday. It started in the morning around 5 or 6. Then it moved back to midnight. Finally Thanksgiving was desecrated. Kmart was open all day. Walmart and a host of others start their sale around 6 pm. It was shameful. People couldn’t have one day to spend with their families. But there is a glimmer of morality in this money crazed holiday. Some stores refused to open on Thanksgiving,; instead they cared enough about their employees to let them have the intended day of rest and time with their families. One would hope that it would spur others to follow suit but I believe these other stores will stay open until sales dip to an unprofitable level. So if you get drawn in by sales on Thanksgiving, DON”T GO. There will still be fantastic deals the next day. Let’s try to restore Thanksgiving to a holiday.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

“I am more than a little disappointed by Linvin’s failure. I have a good deal of pent up rage in my heart with only your sad sack of bones to release it upon. As a man of my word, I will kill you, but first let me introduce you to some people most interested to meet you.” Citizens from the gallery came forward with clubs, chains, and staffs. “My people want to convey their feelings about you burning half the capital along with their homes on your last visit.”
The people set upon Anvar so quickly that all the old elf could do was hide his face. His robe was shredded by the chains and the clubs repeatedly pounded his back and legs. Those holding staffs went for the head. Soon both Anvar’s ears were bleeding and the back of his head had been severely bloodied. A kick in the side knocked him on his back and his face became the primary target.
Necromancer stood silently and looked at his master with disgust. This was done in private because there was no honor in killing an old man in chains, but Mandrean loved the action. Necromancer, in truth, was a colder soul than his master, but he believed in giving his worthy opponents their due. Anvar had been worthy of respect as an adversary. He remembered Anvar’s last plea in his cell.
“Master?” asked Necromancer. “How did you plan to finish Greenlith?”
“Once the beating has him near death, I will use the Blue Sapphire to slice pieces off him while he is alive until his body surrenders.”
“That is a fine plan, but it does not let Greenlith suffer long enough. May I suggest you send him, with these wounds, to be one of the Forgotten Ones on the bottom floor of the prison? There without food, water, or light he will be slowly devoured by the giant rats roaming the level. Let him feel his life slip away over the days. It is much more suiting, don’t you think?”
Mandrean considered the plan. “I do want him to suffer as I have. If I do as you suggest, though, I will not have the pleasure of killing him for myself.”
“Come, My Lord, such an insignificant murder is beneath you and the great power you possess. He is not worthy of your effort.”
Mandrean saw that Anvar had stopped moving and ordered the people to relent in their assault. He stood and walked over to the limp body of Anvar. It was completely covered in blood. After watching for a few moments, he saw signs of respiration. “Don’t you die on me yet, Old Elf. I have a new cell for you. This time there will be no tea or guests. Guards. Remove him to the D Floor of the prison. Pay no attention to his cries or begging. He will become one of the Forgotten Ones and be denied all aid from this day forward. Now be off with him.”
As Anvar’s bloody carcass was carried away, Necromancer watched and thought, Anvar Greenlith, you are either the wisest man in Lavacia or the most foolish. Time will tell.
It took four goblin guards to carry Anvar’s nearly lifeless body from the throne room back to the prison. Upon entering, they started down the spiral staircase along the walls of the great roundhouse. They passed the Room of Horrors where Linvin had vanquished Hugon and saved Miri just a few years before. The next level down was a place where dead prisoners were kept until they were disposed of in the night when fewer eyes were watching. Below that was a storage room for the prison and the stairs came to an end at a narrow hallway. It was lit by lanterns and led to a massive oaken door with cell bars on a small window near its top.
In spite of their iron constitutions, the goblins covered their noses with rags as they opened the door. The smell of death, excrement, and decay was overpowering. With a heave, they threw Anvar into the room and shut the door.
Coming out of his stupor, Anvar tried to take stock of his surroundings in the midst of the menacing pain he was feeling. He lay in the spot on the floor where the lantern light shone in. As his eyes adjusted he saw forms the size of a dog race across the room. He was almost fortunate to have his nose broken and bloodied as he was unable to smell any of the foul odors about.
Anvar wiped the blood still flowing from his head with the sleeve of his robe. You really outdid yourself with this plan, Anvar. After being beaten nearly to death you get yourself thrown in here. Oh Linvin, my boy. I have played all my cards now. There are no more tricks left in my bag. I pray you come in time to save me.

Guest Post

I was privileged to write a guest post on the blog site, “Writing in the Modern Age.” It was a chance for me to express my thoughts. Many thanks to Marie Lavender for the opportunity. Here is the link to the article: http://marielavender.blogspot.com/201... Enjoy the read!