Rival Gates's Blog, page 27
February 6, 2016
Saturday Excerpt, "Crucible"
She addressed the guards firmly. “I desire and audience with Lord Mandrean.”
Neither guard changed their expression or pose. One responded. “Lord Mandrean has not left his chambers this morning. He will not be disturbed, Madame. Return to your quarters and we will relay your request. If he desires your company, he will send for you.”
The woman was infuriated. “You tell that Rotund Sow, I demand to see him immediately. You know who I am.”
“Indeed, Mistress,” replied the guard. “You are Concubine Number One. I am to show you respect. That being said, you wait to be summoned like any of the other seventy-three concubines.”
Number One angrily pounded the door. “You will see me.” she yelled through the wood. “I will not move from this spot until we speak. Do you hear me?” She kicked at the door repeatedly. No movement could be heard inside. The tirade continued in a most unladylike fashion for an extended period.
During that time a formally dressed gentleman with neatly cut red hair approached. A slave girl of impeccable youth and beauty walked on either side. Having traveled the hall, they reached the brass-hinged doors. All three of them bore silver trays with food covered to retain heat. When they could go no further, they paused and the man addressed Concubine Number One.
“You know full well he cannot hear anything through that door Betrimpia. Why must you continue to make a mockery of yourself?”
Betrimpia relented in her attack on the door and turned to respond to the man. “At least you have the courtesy to call me by my proper name, Fendri.”
“I know all the original names of my Master’s concubines,” Fendri answered. “I also know which ones are requested in his chambers. You were not requested last night. Considering the fact he has not risen for the day, I highly doubt he summoned you this morning.”
“He never calls for me anymore,” she snapped. “He just leaves me down there with all of those young, brainless whores to fret away my time.”
“It is true,” said Fendri, “that you do exceed his other concubines in maturity on many levels. To your credit, My Lady, time has been unusually kind to your appearance. A fact I am sure is not lost on our master.”
“Were he half as kind as you, Fendri, the situation would at least be tolerable. Instead I am shut away like a leper. Well, I shall not be ignored any longer. I will have words with him. He must leave there eventually and I will be here at that time.”
Fendri shook his head in disappointment and then looked at the guards. With a single nod of his head, he gave them instruction. Each Imperial Guard took hold of an arm of Betrimpia’s and dragged her struggling body away from the door. Then one man held her while the other opened the door for Fendri and the slaves. As Fendri prepared to enter he told her, “I will inform the Emperor that you are here.” After he and the other servants passed beyond the doors, the massive entry was shut and the guards returned to their original positions.
Neither guard changed their expression or pose. One responded. “Lord Mandrean has not left his chambers this morning. He will not be disturbed, Madame. Return to your quarters and we will relay your request. If he desires your company, he will send for you.”
The woman was infuriated. “You tell that Rotund Sow, I demand to see him immediately. You know who I am.”
“Indeed, Mistress,” replied the guard. “You are Concubine Number One. I am to show you respect. That being said, you wait to be summoned like any of the other seventy-three concubines.”
Number One angrily pounded the door. “You will see me.” she yelled through the wood. “I will not move from this spot until we speak. Do you hear me?” She kicked at the door repeatedly. No movement could be heard inside. The tirade continued in a most unladylike fashion for an extended period.
During that time a formally dressed gentleman with neatly cut red hair approached. A slave girl of impeccable youth and beauty walked on either side. Having traveled the hall, they reached the brass-hinged doors. All three of them bore silver trays with food covered to retain heat. When they could go no further, they paused and the man addressed Concubine Number One.
“You know full well he cannot hear anything through that door Betrimpia. Why must you continue to make a mockery of yourself?”
Betrimpia relented in her attack on the door and turned to respond to the man. “At least you have the courtesy to call me by my proper name, Fendri.”
“I know all the original names of my Master’s concubines,” Fendri answered. “I also know which ones are requested in his chambers. You were not requested last night. Considering the fact he has not risen for the day, I highly doubt he summoned you this morning.”
“He never calls for me anymore,” she snapped. “He just leaves me down there with all of those young, brainless whores to fret away my time.”
“It is true,” said Fendri, “that you do exceed his other concubines in maturity on many levels. To your credit, My Lady, time has been unusually kind to your appearance. A fact I am sure is not lost on our master.”
“Were he half as kind as you, Fendri, the situation would at least be tolerable. Instead I am shut away like a leper. Well, I shall not be ignored any longer. I will have words with him. He must leave there eventually and I will be here at that time.”
Fendri shook his head in disappointment and then looked at the guards. With a single nod of his head, he gave them instruction. Each Imperial Guard took hold of an arm of Betrimpia’s and dragged her struggling body away from the door. Then one man held her while the other opened the door for Fendri and the slaves. As Fendri prepared to enter he told her, “I will inform the Emperor that you are here.” After he and the other servants passed beyond the doors, the massive entry was shut and the guards returned to their original positions.
February 3, 2016
Wednesday Excerpt, "Quest"
Anvar and Linvin each took up a rocker and drank their ale. Before long, Linvin had his pipe out as well.
“Mother was right about the view up here. You can see the entire city.”
“Speaking of views,” Anvar chided, “You had quite the nice view of young ladies out here.”
“Do not remind me,” Linvin said as he rocked. “I felt like the prize whore in a brothel. Could you hear what they were saying from over there?”
“Sadly, no,” replied Anvar. “The acoustics were not very favorable in the corner.”
“In that case,” Linvin laughed, “I envy you. They were all like trained pets following their mothers’ orders. Everything they said sounded like, ‘I love children. I hope to have several. In fact, boys run in my family. It is not my place to question my husband’s authority. He is lord of the house and his word goes. The only reward I seek in life is to make my husband happy and did I mention how much I love children?’ And this was not simply one person’s answer. They all said the exact same thing! Sometimes they would change the order a bit but they all were the same. It was all I could take not to scream!”
“Well,” laughed Anvar, “Those all sound like fine qualities in a wife.”
“Oh, puh-lease!” barked Linvin, “Those are fine qualities in a dog! The answers were as phony as the ones I gave this evening, only less convincing. If they were really telling the truth, then why would I want a wife like that anyway? They sounded like servants. I do not want a wife like that and truthfully, until my mother made it a priority, I had no urgent desire to attain a wife.”
“Surely one of those beauties must have stood out from the group,” Anvar said before drinking his ale.
“Not one,” Linvin said as he walked over to the rail again. “Sure,there were some that were ravishing, voluptuous and captivating in appearance, but I want more than that. I want someone with a brain. Someone I can talk to. Most of all, I want someone who cares more about methan my money or name. The question I really wanted to ask was, ‘If I was poor and no one knew my name, would you still be so eager to marry me?’”
“That would have raised some eyebrows,” Anvar laughed, “I take it you did not ask because you knew their answers.”
“No,” Linvin corrected, “I did not ask because I could not trust the answers they would give.”
“Mother was right about the view up here. You can see the entire city.”
“Speaking of views,” Anvar chided, “You had quite the nice view of young ladies out here.”
“Do not remind me,” Linvin said as he rocked. “I felt like the prize whore in a brothel. Could you hear what they were saying from over there?”
“Sadly, no,” replied Anvar. “The acoustics were not very favorable in the corner.”
“In that case,” Linvin laughed, “I envy you. They were all like trained pets following their mothers’ orders. Everything they said sounded like, ‘I love children. I hope to have several. In fact, boys run in my family. It is not my place to question my husband’s authority. He is lord of the house and his word goes. The only reward I seek in life is to make my husband happy and did I mention how much I love children?’ And this was not simply one person’s answer. They all said the exact same thing! Sometimes they would change the order a bit but they all were the same. It was all I could take not to scream!”
“Well,” laughed Anvar, “Those all sound like fine qualities in a wife.”
“Oh, puh-lease!” barked Linvin, “Those are fine qualities in a dog! The answers were as phony as the ones I gave this evening, only less convincing. If they were really telling the truth, then why would I want a wife like that anyway? They sounded like servants. I do not want a wife like that and truthfully, until my mother made it a priority, I had no urgent desire to attain a wife.”
“Surely one of those beauties must have stood out from the group,” Anvar said before drinking his ale.
“Not one,” Linvin said as he walked over to the rail again. “Sure,there were some that were ravishing, voluptuous and captivating in appearance, but I want more than that. I want someone with a brain. Someone I can talk to. Most of all, I want someone who cares more about methan my money or name. The question I really wanted to ask was, ‘If I was poor and no one knew my name, would you still be so eager to marry me?’”
“That would have raised some eyebrows,” Anvar laughed, “I take it you did not ask because you knew their answers.”
“No,” Linvin corrected, “I did not ask because I could not trust the answers they would give.”
February 2, 2016
Snow Day
It’s a snow day here in Nebraska today. That means everything is closed, the roads are dangerous and my family is home with me. I am truly excited to have the family here as we are usually going in different directions all at once. The only problem is that being with them doesn’t make me want to write. I usually like an empty house for that. Still, I tore myself away from them to write this blog. Snow days here are very different than in Michigan or Ontario, Canada where I used to live. In those places, snow days would only be called for the schools and only if the snow came overnight. If it fell during the day, you were just out of luck. Businesses stayed open unless there was a power outage or there was a snow emergency. On the other hand, they also did a much better job of clearing and salting the roads. (That is likely why my old car was rusting out.) Here in Nebraska, they announced school closings yesterday, before a flake of snow had fallen. Even the colleges were closed starting yesterday. They had been forecasting this storm for a week! That’s a long time to be predicting the weather. And will someone tell me why there is such a rush on the grocery stores when a snowstorm is coming? It’s a one day storm and people are stocking up for the apocalypse. I could understand needing milk or bread but having two carts worth of food seems like going overboard. Maybe they think storms bring out zombies and they’ll have to hide for weeks before it’s safe to come out. Yep. That must be what they’re all thinking in the grocery lines. So far we have about 6” with 4 more on the way. Nevertheless people are shoveling and snow blowing now. If you know more snow is coming, why do twice the work and shovel again? Why not wait till it’s done and then shovel? My next question is, why is there never anything good on television when you’re stuck in the house? When you have to work there’s lots of great movies and shows on. Today there is nothing of merit. On days like this I miss having a fireplace. The house didn’t come with one and it’s just nice for ambiance. I think we’ll bake something today. Snow days just seem like the time to bake something. Maybe we’ll make cookies or brownies or cake. Great! Now I’m hungry. Well, I’m off to rejoin the family while the plows work on the roads outside.
January 27, 2016
Wednesday Excerpt, "Revenge"
In a rickety wooden chair at the table, toiled a diminutive man
adorned in a white robe with scarlet trim. He wore no jewelry. In
fact, there were only two features of distinction about the man. His
hair was a stunning shade of white. The other characteristic of note
was his eyes. They were a radiant shade of red only seen deep in
the heart of a raging inferno. No pupil was evident in them. The
light in them burned steadily like coals in a furnace.
The man was using a quill and ink to copy information from a
tattered paper onto a scroll. His calligraphy was perfect with good
reason. He only moved his eyes and hand while writing. His
concentration was complete.
The books surrounding him were a mix of older texts on
legends and newer ones on geography or various cultures. Without
warning he would snatch one and flip frantically through the
pages. When he found the desired page, he ran his fingers along
the words until he reached the quote of interest. Then he would
carefully transfer the information to his compilation paper.
His work came to a crashing halt when the door to the room
flew open and made a loud thump against the wall. The albino was
startled and knocked over the inkwell. The black liquid soaked the
scroll destroying his work.
He was furious. His eyes became searing white-hot in color.
Nearly invisible rays of magic fired from them and struck with a
concussion against the intruder. An imperial page was shot out into
the hallway where he came to a sudden stop upon reaching the
wall.
A moment later the page stumbled back into the room. He held
the frame of the door while trying to keep his feet. “Great, allpowerful,
Necromancer, I have been sent to bring you to Lord
Mandrean.”
Necromancer’s eyes returned to their normal frightening
appearance. “Never enter my chambers without permission again,
20
Vermin! Do you have any idea of what you have just ruined, you
putrid sack of flesh? I would burn you down right now if we
weren’t running short of ignorant pages to invoke my wrath. Count
yourself lucky and get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
“Please accept my apology for disturbing you but our lord
awaits your presence.”
“Then he will wait,” Necromancer yelled as he struck the books
and cleared the desk in one angry swipe. “Tell your emperor that I
will be there when I have time.”
Necromancer crumpled the paper he had so painstakingly
prepared and threw it at the wall. He stood silently for a moment
and then reluctantly began to search for the bit of paper he had
referenced. During his search, his eyes caught sight of a narrow
shadow in the doorway.
“Are you still here, page? Your life must mean less to you than
it does to me.”
“I beg thee, great Necromancer, I have orders from Lord
Mandrean himself to escort you to his chambers. He seems
dissatisfied with the speed you display when answering his orders.
Those are his words, not mine.”
Necromancer rolled his eyes and then hung his head. He
replaced the objects on the table with a snap of his fingers and
approached the trembling page. “Well then,” he said in a calm,
monotone voice, “let us not keep his worship waiting.” He
gestured politely to the door. The confused servant led him out of
the room and down the hall.
adorned in a white robe with scarlet trim. He wore no jewelry. In
fact, there were only two features of distinction about the man. His
hair was a stunning shade of white. The other characteristic of note
was his eyes. They were a radiant shade of red only seen deep in
the heart of a raging inferno. No pupil was evident in them. The
light in them burned steadily like coals in a furnace.
The man was using a quill and ink to copy information from a
tattered paper onto a scroll. His calligraphy was perfect with good
reason. He only moved his eyes and hand while writing. His
concentration was complete.
The books surrounding him were a mix of older texts on
legends and newer ones on geography or various cultures. Without
warning he would snatch one and flip frantically through the
pages. When he found the desired page, he ran his fingers along
the words until he reached the quote of interest. Then he would
carefully transfer the information to his compilation paper.
His work came to a crashing halt when the door to the room
flew open and made a loud thump against the wall. The albino was
startled and knocked over the inkwell. The black liquid soaked the
scroll destroying his work.
He was furious. His eyes became searing white-hot in color.
Nearly invisible rays of magic fired from them and struck with a
concussion against the intruder. An imperial page was shot out into
the hallway where he came to a sudden stop upon reaching the
wall.
A moment later the page stumbled back into the room. He held
the frame of the door while trying to keep his feet. “Great, allpowerful,
Necromancer, I have been sent to bring you to Lord
Mandrean.”
Necromancer’s eyes returned to their normal frightening
appearance. “Never enter my chambers without permission again,
20
Vermin! Do you have any idea of what you have just ruined, you
putrid sack of flesh? I would burn you down right now if we
weren’t running short of ignorant pages to invoke my wrath. Count
yourself lucky and get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
“Please accept my apology for disturbing you but our lord
awaits your presence.”
“Then he will wait,” Necromancer yelled as he struck the books
and cleared the desk in one angry swipe. “Tell your emperor that I
will be there when I have time.”
Necromancer crumpled the paper he had so painstakingly
prepared and threw it at the wall. He stood silently for a moment
and then reluctantly began to search for the bit of paper he had
referenced. During his search, his eyes caught sight of a narrow
shadow in the doorway.
“Are you still here, page? Your life must mean less to you than
it does to me.”
“I beg thee, great Necromancer, I have orders from Lord
Mandrean himself to escort you to his chambers. He seems
dissatisfied with the speed you display when answering his orders.
Those are his words, not mine.”
Necromancer rolled his eyes and then hung his head. He
replaced the objects on the table with a snap of his fingers and
approached the trembling page. “Well then,” he said in a calm,
monotone voice, “let us not keep his worship waiting.” He
gestured politely to the door. The confused servant led him out of
the room and down the hall.
January 26, 2016
Tuesday Excerpt, "Crucible"
As the room parted, Necromancer came into view. He moved but his robe showed no motion from his legs. As he grew near his eyes became a deeper red and nearly appeared ablaze as he approached the elves. He stopped directly before the guards in the front of the column.
“Captain,” he ordered. “You and your men may return to your duties.”
The captain looked puzzled. “I certainly would never disobey you, My Lord, but we were told these are the most dangerous prisoners we have ever held. With Lord Mandrean about to begin Court, I would think it would be wise to stay with them. After all, Lord Mandrean’s protection is the most important factor.”
“Your concern is noted,” Necromancer answered as anger swelled in his voice. “There are over a dozen Imperial Guards already stationed in this room. That is more than sufficient. Your men have other responsibilities they are neglecting. I suggest they return to them. As for our Dear Lord Mandrean, I am here. There is no greater protection to be had. You are dismissed. Pray I do not recall you’re questioning of my orders in the future. Such a recollection may displease me and be detrimental for you.”
The captain gave the fist salute and said firmly, “By your leave, My Lord.” He turned on his heal and led the guards from the chamber.
Necromancer smiled a fiendish grin as he approached Linvin. “I see you have been restored to health. That is good. I may not have use for you but I will be prepared all the same, Grithinshield.”
He walked over to the twins and looked at them with contempt. Then he glared at Linvin. “I can see why you loathe them. They are miserable excuses for elves. To be fair, elves never have impressed me as a group. These
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two are particularly under whelming. Had I been you, I would have eliminated them long ago.”
“They are my kin,” Linvin stated indignantly.
“A fact I am sure you have regretted on more than one occasion,” remarked Necromancer. “They may be of your blood but you would have done well to shed it long ago. Your trip would have been far easier. Then again, I may be giving you too much credit. Perhaps you enjoy having inferiors around. I personally despise it, but have no choice in the matter. I have no equal with whom to associate.” He moved on to Anvar. “You certainly draw a pathetic comparison to me. What is the world coming to when everyone is so scared of a circus freak like you? An Orange Magician, eh? You are better served as a sideshow trickster. At least that would earn the slightest respect. Instead you pass yourself off as a force to be handled with extreme caution. You could not harm me on your best day.
“There are many here who may fear your tricks. For that reason I will be clear. I will be removing all your restraints soon. After all, we do not want the ‘Emperor’s Prisoners’ to be uncomfortable, do we? Then you will all sit where I tell you and do nothing until called upon. If any of you make the slightest effort to escape, you will only leave this chamber when your ashes are swept aside.” He paced before the prisoners with his hands behind his back. “That means, no swordplay, fisticuffs or that sad thing Anvar Greenlith calls magic. Remember, you are nothing more than a means to an end for me. Even at that, you are a backup plan. Your incineration would at worst be an inconvenience to me. So do not bother convincing yourselves that you are indispensable.”
“Captain,” he ordered. “You and your men may return to your duties.”
The captain looked puzzled. “I certainly would never disobey you, My Lord, but we were told these are the most dangerous prisoners we have ever held. With Lord Mandrean about to begin Court, I would think it would be wise to stay with them. After all, Lord Mandrean’s protection is the most important factor.”
“Your concern is noted,” Necromancer answered as anger swelled in his voice. “There are over a dozen Imperial Guards already stationed in this room. That is more than sufficient. Your men have other responsibilities they are neglecting. I suggest they return to them. As for our Dear Lord Mandrean, I am here. There is no greater protection to be had. You are dismissed. Pray I do not recall you’re questioning of my orders in the future. Such a recollection may displease me and be detrimental for you.”
The captain gave the fist salute and said firmly, “By your leave, My Lord.” He turned on his heal and led the guards from the chamber.
Necromancer smiled a fiendish grin as he approached Linvin. “I see you have been restored to health. That is good. I may not have use for you but I will be prepared all the same, Grithinshield.”
He walked over to the twins and looked at them with contempt. Then he glared at Linvin. “I can see why you loathe them. They are miserable excuses for elves. To be fair, elves never have impressed me as a group. These
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two are particularly under whelming. Had I been you, I would have eliminated them long ago.”
“They are my kin,” Linvin stated indignantly.
“A fact I am sure you have regretted on more than one occasion,” remarked Necromancer. “They may be of your blood but you would have done well to shed it long ago. Your trip would have been far easier. Then again, I may be giving you too much credit. Perhaps you enjoy having inferiors around. I personally despise it, but have no choice in the matter. I have no equal with whom to associate.” He moved on to Anvar. “You certainly draw a pathetic comparison to me. What is the world coming to when everyone is so scared of a circus freak like you? An Orange Magician, eh? You are better served as a sideshow trickster. At least that would earn the slightest respect. Instead you pass yourself off as a force to be handled with extreme caution. You could not harm me on your best day.
“There are many here who may fear your tricks. For that reason I will be clear. I will be removing all your restraints soon. After all, we do not want the ‘Emperor’s Prisoners’ to be uncomfortable, do we? Then you will all sit where I tell you and do nothing until called upon. If any of you make the slightest effort to escape, you will only leave this chamber when your ashes are swept aside.” He paced before the prisoners with his hands behind his back. “That means, no swordplay, fisticuffs or that sad thing Anvar Greenlith calls magic. Remember, you are nothing more than a means to an end for me. Even at that, you are a backup plan. Your incineration would at worst be an inconvenience to me. So do not bother convincing yourselves that you are indispensable.”
January 24, 2016
Sunday Excerpt, "Quest"
The morning sun poked cautiously over the horizon. It painted the sky in a dazzling display of vibrant colors. The brilliant star seemed to pause for a moment while taking its first look at the world to which it was bringing light. The majestic, glimmering light brought a caress to the silky spring clouds. They would continue to carelessly banter about the sky, riding winds where they led.
As the dark of night retreated, a dense fog still stubbornly held the land in a cloak of disguise. Such a spiteful deed by its dark counterpart seemed to displease the sun. It resolved to rise steadily into the air and shine brightly down upon the usurper with all its might. Being no match for such luminance, the night reluctantly withdrew its misty blanket and released the land to the dawn.
As the haze dissipated, it gradually revealed treetops where one might expect the ground to be. With more and more of the air clearing, the trees appeared to spread out in all directions. It was a great forest of redwoods which seemed quite normal at first glance. Upon closer inspection, though, it could be seen that the trees were twice as wide as houses and were spaced out evenly, most certainly in a deliberate pattern. It was not just a forest, but also a town.
The trees were actually the town of Missandor. The spacing of the giants formed a grid, which created streets through the town. There were no houses there in a conventional sense. The inhabitants lived within and upon the trees.
Missandor was a community of elves. The swarthy folk with brown hair and eyes were slightly more modest in height than their human counterparts.
As a whole, it could be said that elves were a friendly and kind people but also intensely proud and distrusting of other races. In Missandor, however, the population was known to be accepting of different cultures and races, making for an atypical elven town.
The quiet streets soon erupted with the sounds of the market opening for business. Stands, carts and stores of all types were opening. In a matter of minutes, the town had gone from a simple forest to a merchant conglomerate.
Sounds of children playing all around blended with the haggling taking place at the vendors. It created a symphony of sound which was pierced on occasion by the ringing of a bell on the local water wagon. The wagon was pulled by two horses and driven by a kindly old elf who had been delivering this precious commodity to homes since he was a child. He would most likely continue his task until his eventual demise. He was a constant in the ever-changing township.
As the dark of night retreated, a dense fog still stubbornly held the land in a cloak of disguise. Such a spiteful deed by its dark counterpart seemed to displease the sun. It resolved to rise steadily into the air and shine brightly down upon the usurper with all its might. Being no match for such luminance, the night reluctantly withdrew its misty blanket and released the land to the dawn.
As the haze dissipated, it gradually revealed treetops where one might expect the ground to be. With more and more of the air clearing, the trees appeared to spread out in all directions. It was a great forest of redwoods which seemed quite normal at first glance. Upon closer inspection, though, it could be seen that the trees were twice as wide as houses and were spaced out evenly, most certainly in a deliberate pattern. It was not just a forest, but also a town.
The trees were actually the town of Missandor. The spacing of the giants formed a grid, which created streets through the town. There were no houses there in a conventional sense. The inhabitants lived within and upon the trees.
Missandor was a community of elves. The swarthy folk with brown hair and eyes were slightly more modest in height than their human counterparts.
As a whole, it could be said that elves were a friendly and kind people but also intensely proud and distrusting of other races. In Missandor, however, the population was known to be accepting of different cultures and races, making for an atypical elven town.
The quiet streets soon erupted with the sounds of the market opening for business. Stands, carts and stores of all types were opening. In a matter of minutes, the town had gone from a simple forest to a merchant conglomerate.
Sounds of children playing all around blended with the haggling taking place at the vendors. It created a symphony of sound which was pierced on occasion by the ringing of a bell on the local water wagon. The wagon was pulled by two horses and driven by a kindly old elf who had been delivering this precious commodity to homes since he was a child. He would most likely continue his task until his eventual demise. He was a constant in the ever-changing township.
January 23, 2016
Guest Interview
Ok we're here today with Mark Stidham, the voice actor and owner of
Buddy the Dog, from the kid's show “Here be Dragons.”
First of all Mark, thanks for being here. Can you tell us a little about Buddy? And how'd
that start?
I bought a new PC, one of those all in one without a tower so it's just
one piece and with a touch screen that I never ever use. Anyway, it
came with a webcam and a webcam program. On this program it had
avatars where you could record a video with your voice and the lips
would move. One of the avatars was this beautiful golden retriever. So
I thought, hey this would make a good thing for video marketers and
such, and for ads and commercials. I already worked on Fiverr.com so I
set up the gig with this talking dog that I later named Buddy after
one of my own dogs, not a Retriever but basic same coloring. And there
you have it... Buddy was born.
Great! We hear you have a new book out. Care to tell us a little about it?
Yes, “Study Buddy.” It’s a children’s interactive book with lessons on
all types of subjects, and most important…coloring!!! Of course,
Cheshire Grin Publishing gets all the credit for putting it all
together for which I am grateful. It’s available through Cheshire Grin
Publishing via Lulu.
http://www.cheshiregrinpublishing.com...
Sounds good. Where can we get our own personal Buddy vid for the kids?
You can get this here:
http://www.cheshiregrinpublishing.com...
Kool. So tell us a bit about the show.
I started getting some orders for Buddy to appear in this free
educational children’s show. It has puppets and diverse characters.
The more involved I became with the show, I could see how it would
appeal to children, be entertaining and they would also learn. My part
includes many different dog facts or related subjects. Secretly, it
appeals to me personally (in a hipster kind of way). I showed it to an
adult friend of mine and he freaked out thinking one of the coolest
things he’d ever seen. So that’s it in a nutshell.
Wow! Great! Okay you know we're not going to let you get away easy. Tell
us a bit about the man behind the voice. What's a good day for you?
A good day is a day I can survive with what’s left of my sanity… Just
kidding! A good day is when I can provide good services for people
whether that’s with doing a Buddy Video or creating other video and
audio services such as voice overs or Royalty Free Music tracks, which
is something I’ve been working on a lot lately You can check out my
work on that athttps://www.909music.com/gentleman/tr...
Also a good day for me is taking care of my family and all if its
relative madness, which I wouldn’t trade for anything right now!
Buddy the Dog, from the kid's show “Here be Dragons.”
First of all Mark, thanks for being here. Can you tell us a little about Buddy? And how'd
that start?
I bought a new PC, one of those all in one without a tower so it's just
one piece and with a touch screen that I never ever use. Anyway, it
came with a webcam and a webcam program. On this program it had
avatars where you could record a video with your voice and the lips
would move. One of the avatars was this beautiful golden retriever. So
I thought, hey this would make a good thing for video marketers and
such, and for ads and commercials. I already worked on Fiverr.com so I
set up the gig with this talking dog that I later named Buddy after
one of my own dogs, not a Retriever but basic same coloring. And there
you have it... Buddy was born.
Great! We hear you have a new book out. Care to tell us a little about it?
Yes, “Study Buddy.” It’s a children’s interactive book with lessons on
all types of subjects, and most important…coloring!!! Of course,
Cheshire Grin Publishing gets all the credit for putting it all
together for which I am grateful. It’s available through Cheshire Grin
Publishing via Lulu.
http://www.cheshiregrinpublishing.com...
Sounds good. Where can we get our own personal Buddy vid for the kids?
You can get this here:
http://www.cheshiregrinpublishing.com...
Kool. So tell us a bit about the show.
I started getting some orders for Buddy to appear in this free
educational children’s show. It has puppets and diverse characters.
The more involved I became with the show, I could see how it would
appeal to children, be entertaining and they would also learn. My part
includes many different dog facts or related subjects. Secretly, it
appeals to me personally (in a hipster kind of way). I showed it to an
adult friend of mine and he freaked out thinking one of the coolest
things he’d ever seen. So that’s it in a nutshell.
Wow! Great! Okay you know we're not going to let you get away easy. Tell
us a bit about the man behind the voice. What's a good day for you?
A good day is a day I can survive with what’s left of my sanity… Just
kidding! A good day is when I can provide good services for people
whether that’s with doing a Buddy Video or creating other video and
audio services such as voice overs or Royalty Free Music tracks, which
is something I’ve been working on a lot lately You can check out my
work on that athttps://www.909music.com/gentleman/tr...
Also a good day for me is taking care of my family and all if its
relative madness, which I wouldn’t trade for anything right now!
January 20, 2016
Interview on Two Sites
Today I have an interview up on two web sites. Check it out on either http://buddytalkingdog.blogspot.com/2... or on http://streetlighthalo.blogspot.com/ . I’d like to thank the good people at these sites for posting my interview. They are really first class. Enjoy.
January 19, 2016
Tuesday Excerpt, "Crucible"
Much of the Mandrean’s success over the years had been due to the fact they covered their empire with great roads. Uniform in width, six horses could hide abreast along their surfaces. A mixture of sand, gravel and lime held large quarried stones together. The recipe made for a strong, fast surface. It enabled the Mandreans to deploy their forces with greater speed than their opponents.
Messages could also travel the realm more quickly. Such logistical properties alone swung many a battle in their favor.
After years of war and little thought or attention being given to the roads, they began to crumble and had become a sorrowful shadow of their past greatness. Where once disciplined human armies marched like thunder rolling over the land, now goblin armies scurried along like rats. It showed the weakened stature of the empire and the short-term solutions used to bolster its ranks after its decimation in the war with Sartan years before.
Their ride was most uncomfortable. Potholes abounded where freezing and thawing loosened and eventually carried away stones from the well-engineered road. The elves slid back and forth in their prison with every bump along the way. It was clear from the debris on the roadside that advancing and retreating Mandrean Armies used the route on many occasions. Merchant wagon-wheels also did their part to loosen the stones as well.
The only break from the monotony of the trip occurred twice per day when the elves were released from their cage in order to relieve themselves and walk about. An idea occurred to Linvin to try to escape during that time but it was not to be. As though the goblins knew their entire story until that point, they watched them closely and never removed the shackles in spite of many persuasive arguments by Linvin and Anvar. Orders would not be disobeyed again by the troop.
For meals, the prisoners were given goblin rations. They proved to be completely inedible to anyone without the iron digestive track of a goblin. Even the salty biscuits would be welcomed. Instead, they were given rancid meat that had been improperly cured. The water they received was stale but would do. As the days blended into one another, their hunger robbed their strength. 16
The montage of days passed with the landscape before their eyes as the caravan followed the road north. Vineyards eventually gave way to livestock farms and small towns or villages. The people here were fearful of their own forces, having been overtaxed and treated with brutality by the impudent goblins. Townspeople peered through their windows at the elves. Linvin observed their faces as they passed. Each one wore the expression of someone looking at a person about to die.
Parents pulled children out of the streets to clear the path for the passing soldiers. Anything of value was quickly hidden. Kegs of wine were left in the center of town as an offering so the soldiers might take them and leave their home in peace. The ploy was successful as the goblins took up the kegs and continued on their way.
Messages could also travel the realm more quickly. Such logistical properties alone swung many a battle in their favor.
After years of war and little thought or attention being given to the roads, they began to crumble and had become a sorrowful shadow of their past greatness. Where once disciplined human armies marched like thunder rolling over the land, now goblin armies scurried along like rats. It showed the weakened stature of the empire and the short-term solutions used to bolster its ranks after its decimation in the war with Sartan years before.
Their ride was most uncomfortable. Potholes abounded where freezing and thawing loosened and eventually carried away stones from the well-engineered road. The elves slid back and forth in their prison with every bump along the way. It was clear from the debris on the roadside that advancing and retreating Mandrean Armies used the route on many occasions. Merchant wagon-wheels also did their part to loosen the stones as well.
The only break from the monotony of the trip occurred twice per day when the elves were released from their cage in order to relieve themselves and walk about. An idea occurred to Linvin to try to escape during that time but it was not to be. As though the goblins knew their entire story until that point, they watched them closely and never removed the shackles in spite of many persuasive arguments by Linvin and Anvar. Orders would not be disobeyed again by the troop.
For meals, the prisoners were given goblin rations. They proved to be completely inedible to anyone without the iron digestive track of a goblin. Even the salty biscuits would be welcomed. Instead, they were given rancid meat that had been improperly cured. The water they received was stale but would do. As the days blended into one another, their hunger robbed their strength. 16
The montage of days passed with the landscape before their eyes as the caravan followed the road north. Vineyards eventually gave way to livestock farms and small towns or villages. The people here were fearful of their own forces, having been overtaxed and treated with brutality by the impudent goblins. Townspeople peered through their windows at the elves. Linvin observed their faces as they passed. Each one wore the expression of someone looking at a person about to die.
Parents pulled children out of the streets to clear the path for the passing soldiers. Anything of value was quickly hidden. Kegs of wine were left in the center of town as an offering so the soldiers might take them and leave their home in peace. The ploy was successful as the goblins took up the kegs and continued on their way.
January 17, 2016
Sunday Excerpt, "Quest"
He stood by the window with a snifter of brandy. Swirling the container of precious liquor in his hand, he called out, “Jelena, could I at least have some ale instead of this lamp oil you’ve served me?”
“Anvar,” bellowed the woman, “This is an important occasion and I will not have it sullied by serving that swill you and Dirk took such delight in drinking. You are holding the finest brandy in the land. Savor it and let me see to my tasks.”
Anvar inhaled the bouquet and then sipped in a conservative fashion. His face wrinkled slightly. “I honestly do not see why you are making such a fuss, Jelena. After all, it’s just Linvin coming home.”
“Do you see him?” shouted Jelena as she ran to the window.
“No,” laughed Anvar. “I was merely saying that this gala you have prepared seems rather…extravagant for Linvin’s tastes. Would you not agree, sister?”
Jelena stormed over to Anvar. “Having been through this past year with me, I would think you of all people would see a need for celebration. This house has been like a mausoleum since Dirk left. I have one good thing left in this world and that is my son. Is it so wrong to shout to the world that he is home?”
“It could be,” Anvar said before taking a larger drink from his glass. “You know how I feel about this. It is an unwise and unneeded risk. One that may very well get us all killed.”
“The gala will have tight security, I assure you.”
Anvar came face-to-face with her and said with frustration, “You know that I do not speak of the gala. Has time blinded you so that you do not see the impending danger? The risks have not gone away, Jelena. Bringing us together again and announcing it to the world will only compound those risks.”
“Dirk has been gone over a year and there is not the slightest hint of danger. You are paranoid, dear brother. Even if there was a danger, it died with Dirk.”
Anvar struck his forehead in disbelief. “Dirk is not what they wanted! They have just been biding their time. How can you be so ignorant of the impending doom?”
“Because all I can see is my son! He was practically stolen from me as a boy and sent halfway around the world to be raised by strangers. My boy has lived more years away from me than with me and I want him back! I want him home!”
“Even if it costs us all our lives?” Anvar asked as he held his weeping sister.
“Anvar,” bellowed the woman, “This is an important occasion and I will not have it sullied by serving that swill you and Dirk took such delight in drinking. You are holding the finest brandy in the land. Savor it and let me see to my tasks.”
Anvar inhaled the bouquet and then sipped in a conservative fashion. His face wrinkled slightly. “I honestly do not see why you are making such a fuss, Jelena. After all, it’s just Linvin coming home.”
“Do you see him?” shouted Jelena as she ran to the window.
“No,” laughed Anvar. “I was merely saying that this gala you have prepared seems rather…extravagant for Linvin’s tastes. Would you not agree, sister?”
Jelena stormed over to Anvar. “Having been through this past year with me, I would think you of all people would see a need for celebration. This house has been like a mausoleum since Dirk left. I have one good thing left in this world and that is my son. Is it so wrong to shout to the world that he is home?”
“It could be,” Anvar said before taking a larger drink from his glass. “You know how I feel about this. It is an unwise and unneeded risk. One that may very well get us all killed.”
“The gala will have tight security, I assure you.”
Anvar came face-to-face with her and said with frustration, “You know that I do not speak of the gala. Has time blinded you so that you do not see the impending danger? The risks have not gone away, Jelena. Bringing us together again and announcing it to the world will only compound those risks.”
“Dirk has been gone over a year and there is not the slightest hint of danger. You are paranoid, dear brother. Even if there was a danger, it died with Dirk.”
Anvar struck his forehead in disbelief. “Dirk is not what they wanted! They have just been biding their time. How can you be so ignorant of the impending doom?”
“Because all I can see is my son! He was practically stolen from me as a boy and sent halfway around the world to be raised by strangers. My boy has lived more years away from me than with me and I want him back! I want him home!”
“Even if it costs us all our lives?” Anvar asked as he held his weeping sister.
