R.D. Hale's Blog, page 4

Thoughts on the Paris Attacks and Syrian War

1) If the terrorists were French citizens, does that mean we should ban the French from Britain?

2) If British citizens are leaving the UK to join ISIS, should the world close its borders to our people?

3) If a handful of Muslims are terrorists, is it fair to blame 1.57 billion Muslims for their actions?

4) If small countries like Lebanon can take one million refugees, is it acceptable to not take any?

5) If it slightly reduces our risk of a terrorist attack, is it acceptable to condemn thousands of children to butchery?

6) If we condemn the treatment of Jews during the holocaust, is it not hypocritical to close our doors to Muslims?

7) If the Syrian war lasts 14 years (like the war on terror), should we expect children to spend their childhoods in the squalor of refugee camps?

8) If terrorists want us to turn against Muslims and live in fear, should we give them what they want?

9) If almost all terrorists are home grown, is it acceptable to bomb other countries?

10) If the war on terror has produced one million civilian casualties and exacerbated the problem of extremism, would a repeat of history not be genocide?


If my questions struck a chord, please sign and share this petition: https://www.change.org/p/david-cameron-mp-rt-hon-theresa-may-mp-don-t-close-european-borders-deny-refugees-the-right-to-asylum-or-capitulate-to-terrorism?recruiter=306918241&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink

Watty Awards 2015 - Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo

Please help! The Watty Awards 2015 are here, and I am trying to win for the second consecutive year. Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo is currently free-to-read on Wattpad in beta form, and Twitter users can vote for it win (until the end of the month) by posting the following Tweet:
Please RT to help Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo win the ‪#‎Wattys2015‬‪#‎wattpad‬ ‪#‎sciencefiction‬ http://w.tt/1NuBWzH ‪#‎MyWattysChoice‬
Thank you so much for your support!

Indie Authors Library

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Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - War

In the morning, I put on my blood-stained animal skin shirt, say: 'Goodbye,' to the cockroaches, and Otess and I go to check out of the inn. As we are handing our keys in at the bar, the inn-keeper says:'The soldiers were called away last night after you two headed upstairs. There's been a syncronised attack across many cities, including Medio. Power grids have been taken out and defence droids have been neutralised by EMPs. Foreign troops have landed on our shores and rockets have been raining down on residential areas, the bastards. Given the large military presence in Mydilsburgh, we could be next on the list. Anatolia is once again at war!''Shit we need to get back to Medio asap, to see if Emmi and the gang are okay. The goddess only knows how were gonna find Mila now...'As we depart the Cannon Inn, the streets are filled with troops, mechanoids, and armoured vehicles - too many even for a super-soldier to fight. All of the men have rifles in hand, and the unmasked ones have a Do-Not-Fuck-with-Me expression on their faces. Otess and I march tensely along the road that leads out of town, and I can only hope my leopard battle last night has earned a no-harassment card. A soldier's head pokes from a tank and he speaks into a megaphone:'No-one should be on the streets unless they have to be, you will be safer indoors. We are in a state of war, and any suspicious behaviour will result in arrest.'Otess and I continue on, giving troops a wide berth and passing zero civilians - from now on it is going to be difficult to go anywhere icognito. Why did I ever think civil war would be a good idea? We come to a roadblock of armoured vehicles on the outskirts of town and I can taste trouble in the air.'Civilians stop! Identify yourselves,' a soldier booms as angry young men point high-powered rifles at our heads.'I am Otess of the Otessa tribe, and this is my son, Tethys,' Otess speaks before I can, and I hope my animal skin shirt is enough to convince them of my false identity. If one of the soldiers heard me talking in the bar last night, our attempt at deception will fail, and I will find out how bullet-proof I really am.'Wait there a moment,' the guard says, as his companion sits in an open-doored vehicle, speaking into a comms device:'The face is a 98.7% match, arrest them!''Otess, get down!' I yell, leaping over the guards and smashing two helmets together, rendering them unconscious. I withdraw the phaser I obtained in the encampment and nullify three soldiers before they can react. Hearing a gargling behind me, I turn to see Otess pulling his dagger from the throat of a soldier who was about to fill my body with lead. X-ray sight reveals three more guards cowering in their vehicles. As I consider whether to take them down or run, an emerging convoy of armoured transports makes the decision for me, and I drag Otess by the arm into an alley.A sizable mechanoid blocks our exit, so I fling Otess into a bin before his flesh is souffléd, then I sprint towards the armour-plated biped which looks like an advanced version of Ivor. As it raises its shooting arm, I leap with no idea how to proceed as I land on its shoulders. Agony fills my fist as I punch its head, and it becomes apparent that even upgraded Arturo cannot fight everything. Remembering Ivor's anatomy, I reach down for its chest plate and pull: it is not as easy to remove as our outdated machine's. Grasping the mech's shooting arm with my spare hand, I struggle to hold it off as the chest plate creaks and snaps open. I tear into wiring and mechanical parts, and the mech hisses and crackles as soldiers enter the other side of the alley, close to Otess' hiding spot. A colossal explosion sends the droid and I through hot air as buildings collapse around us, and my flesh sears as I am consumed by debris.

Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - Converging Prophecies

'You're stronger than you look. Let's get this tough bastard patched up, and give him a room for the night. I'm paying,' a grey moustachioed man insists as I pass another man at the arena door. Sitting at a small, round table, I look around at wheeled cages containing mostly sleeping beasts: an alligator, hyena, warthog, and more. Snoring resonates from their throats, causing metal bars and random objects to vibrate within this orange-lit storage room. Robots, some broken, are standing near the cages with scrap iron at their feet - I can only assume these machines fight too. A bald, sweaty man washes my bloodied head with a sponge, then glues my wounds together - a not unfamiliar process.'You hurt anywhere else?' the bald, sweaty man asks.'Don't think so, I feel fine, apart from the headache.''I've seen a man beat a wolf before, but he was a mess compared to you.' The grey moustachioed soldier crouches before a cage with a curled up canine inside. 'The scars made him unrecognisable, and a leopard is a tougher beast than a wolf. Someone your size should’ve had no chance.''I grew up in the slums, had to punch above my weight every day. Anyways, leopards aren't too robust, they can be hurt as I showed. I'm just lucky it bit my skull rather than my throat.'A man wheels a cage through the storage room and I glimpse speckled red fur and yellow irises - the leopard is lying subdued and likely crippled. Only his blinking eyes show movement and it is difficult to comprehend my bare hands could have ended his fighting days. 'Where you taking him?' I ask as the leopard stares helplessly into my eyes.'To the incinerator, a lame animal is useless. We lost a lot of money, thanks to you, but on the plus side you've stoked the men's enthusiasm - they'll be taking high risk bets for weeks.' The bald, sweaty man drops the tube of glue onto the table. 'Come on, I'll show you to your room.'The bald, sweaty man guides me into the gambling den where I call a visibly-relieved Otess as awestruck gamblers pat my back. We are led upstairs to a room with mustard and brown decor, patches of mould, and the idyllic view of a brick wall beyond the window. My body odour can only be described as a combination of stale cheese and urine so I take a shower with a cockroach for company. I rinse the blood from my animal skin shirt and hang it over a radiator, then laze on the bed as Otess figures out how to use the shower. The tribesman’s squeals suggest he has not mastered control of the temperature dial.Otess returns and sits on the dusty carpet, insisting: 'The Great Demon Lord must have the bed to regain his strength.''It's probably best you stop calling me that, it was fun at first, but it just attracts attention. Please call me Arturo going forwards, okay?''Yes Grea... Arturo.' Otess drops his head.'So Otess, how did you come to be tribe leader, and why were you so willing to give away your title to an outsider?' I sit up and rest my back against the wall.'When previous leader killed, tribe selected who they thought bravest warrior and I took on his name, Otess. But then you arrived - the speed and strength you demonstrated, the way you came on beast, it was prophecy fulfilment. There was no way I could challenge warrior greater than myself.''So why wasn't I given the name Otess when I was crowned?''Name reserved only for mortal men. Great Demon Lord has no need for mortal name.''I'm mortal like the rest of you, just upgraded, that's all. You see my scars? These are from bullets, leopard claws, and a life-saving operation. Immortals don't scar.' I run my fingers over the raised pink marks on my flesh. 'So, tell me why your people decided you were their bravest warrior.''One day bear came into village, children were screaming. It stood taller than two men with huge claws and teeth. I was seventeen at the time, but I grabbed a spear when grown men ran. I stabbed bear in the side again and again. It swiped my ribs, sliced me open, but then it weakened from the injuries, and other men returned to finish it off. It took many weeks to recover, I nearly died.' Otess lifts his shirt to show claw marks that make the ones on my torso seem lame. 'So you were my age? You and I are alike, aren't we? There's something you should know: my dead father told me I would meet many people who will help me, you must be one of them. Maybe that's why your prophecy said I'd come. I'm not a Great Demon Lord, and I'm not your King, but the fate of our planet hangs in the balance, and for some reason we have a pivotal role to play. Once we’ve found Myla, I don't know what will happen next, but I do know this: I’ll be returning your crown. You are the rightful ruler of the Otessa tribe.''Arturo, everything you said is as prophecy described - Great Demon Lord will liberate world with help of Otessa tribe. You do not have to believe, but I know his spirit lies within you.'

Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - Slip of the Tongue

A barmaid has just started her shift, replacing the toothless man. She is late thirties with a face of frown lines and scarlet lipstick, and saggy breasts hanging out of her low-cut top. A rather desperate soldier leans flirtatiously towards her and says something which results in laughter from his drunken friends. Together, they rise, lifting their pint glasses and singing in as loud and tuneless a manner as you may imagine. Within seconds the entire bar is joining in, and as pint glasses wave, Otess and his demon lord are splashed with froth.'Clumsy bloody idiots need to shut the hell up,' I mumble as Otess wipes his brow.A faceful of beer comes my way, blurring my vision, and I am grabbed and shoved by multiple hands. Blinking, I see Otess struggling to break free from two soldiers who are clutching his wrists as a circle forms around us. Retaliation is my first thought but this would be no fight, and I do not wish to give the San Terian Guard any clue as to our current location so I show restraint.'Problem with our singing, eh, civvie scum?' a soldier booms.'Do not address-''It's okay, Otess, I'll handle this... I'm no civvie, I'm one of you, and there's no problem, we were just going.''Who you kidding? You're no soldier. You and your little savage friend wanna walk out of here, you'll have to earn it. Now which one of you fancies your chances against a leopard?''A what?' I mutter as flashbacks of my leopard encounter at Huryzen Park flood my mind.'You heard me, a leopard. One of you is going in the pit, so who will it be, you or your boyfriend?''A leopard is no match for the great demon lord Arturo,' Otess announces to hysterical laughter, and I am dragged by the scruff of the neck into the gambling den. Passing the viewing windows and going up a few steps, I am flung over a ledge into the pit. Falling seven and a half yards, I roll in blood soaked dust and climb to my feet. A door opens and a cage is wheeled in by a muscular man. The rumbling coming from the cage inhabitant's throat makes my neck hairs stand on end. The last time we met I was so easily overpowered, and my only chance is to utilise the unreliable upgrades I must not reveal. The arena door shuts and the cage door opens, revealing the gaping jaws of a red and black killing machine of my size. The leopard runs out in a swift, fluid motion, and as I swing my boot it shifts back ghost-like and roars mid-arena. Raising one blade-tipped paw, the leopard shuffles forward, bobbing its head as it looks for a striking opportunity. It swipes its paw at my leg, but I evade the blow as easily as it did mine.The leopard pounces as I slip in blood from earlier battles and claws sink into a torso bearing the scars of my last encounter. Fangs sink into a skull which could be bone or metal, and I feel intense pressure in my brain. I grab the leopard by the neck and squeeze, clearly not at my full strength but way stronger than the old Arturo. As I continue to squeeze, the leopard's breathing stops and its heart-rate slows but still it bites. Squeezing harder I hear a crack as a verterbrae slips and cracks, damaging the leopard's spinal column. The jaws ease off so I release my grip, and my panting rival tries to stand but falls onto its side as the men roar: 'Finish it!'Blood runs down my neck as I rise to my feet, shaking my head. An old score has been settled and I wish my rival no further harm.'It's over.'

Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - Bloodsport

Lamps hang from a creaky overhead walkway, ragged awnings droop from storefronts, and the smell of fried food fills the air. We follow the street and enter a place called The Cannon Inn with windows so grimy you could write your name in them. One half of the bar is filled with the scum of society, sitting smugly in their military uniforms. The dingier half is filled with your typical, everyday drunkards; the kind who look like they have not bathed in a week. I feel so at home. My palm sticks to the bar so I wipe beer residue on my trousers as we are greeted by a barman with teeth missing from one side of his mouth.'Whayaharvin,' the barman mumbles so I glance to rows of bottles on a shelf under a dim yellow light, and then my gaze settles on the beer taps.'Two beers please, and we'll be happy to pay extra for clean glasses.' I smirk as the barman pours beer into two pint glasses of lovely, clouded design. Sneering, he slams the pint glasses onto the bar, spilling the froth which composes half of the contents. 'Tharallewereddits,' the barman says, and Otess stares over the beer-soaked bar with his brow crumpled.'Well, don't just stand there, Otess, pay the man.'Otess hands over a ten credit note and collects his change from the delightful barman, placing the coins into his satchel. Clutching my pint glass, I take a gulp of beer which tastes like freshly produced urine, but nevertheless I take another gulp. After all, it is beer. Halfway through our pints, raucous voices and snarling lure two animal-skin wearing outsiders through saloon doors into a gambling den. Men are staring through bars, yelling: 'Twenty on the wolf,' and such, and we squeeze between them to see what the fuss is about. Below the viewing balcony lies a compact arena of sand soaked in blood and oil which fills the air with an unpleasant smell. At one end of the arena stands a cage containing a Vermilion tiger-wolf, snarling, chomping, and bashing against the mesh.  At the other end stands a cage containing an orangutan cowering with head behind knees, identifiable by its orange fur and primate anatomy.'Orangutan will win, guaranteed,' I mumble.'Oh, you reckon? I've got twenty on the tiger-wolf,' a young man in military uniform says.'Sounds like you, and a lot of others, are about to lose twenty credits.' I shake my head.The cage doors open and the tiger-wolf explodes into the arena, heading straight for the cage the orangutan is reluctant to leave. A swipe of a huge, leathery hand sends the tiger-wolf tumbling back into an oil patch as quickly as it came. The orangutan climbs onto the roof of its cage, then leaps to the bars of the viewing balcony as the tiger-wolf snarls from the ground below. Black eyes stare tearily and cheek flanges tremble as the pouncing tiger-wolf latches onto the orangutan's calf. The pair hang together with the orangutan screaming until it loses grip of the bars and plummets into the arena. The bloodied orangutan lands on the ribcage of its canine foe which bites its shoulder, getting a mouthful of orange fur. The pair wrestle and the tiger-wolf yelps as the orangutan bites back, drawing blood from a slender hind leg. Again the tiger-wolf is sent tumbling by an orangutan swipe, but quickly rises, and the wounded animals face off, mid-arena. Stripes on the tiger-wolf’s thigh are concealed by blood, but a limp does not stop the canine from pouncing. The orangutan catches its forelimbs and the tiger-wolf is stretched into cruciform with a shriek and a crack, flopping to the ground. The orangutan slumps into its cage, wounded and shaken by the battle as the few money-winning spectators cheer.'How the hell did you predict that? The orangutan looks bloody harmless, and yet it beat a tiger-wolf. I was expecting a mismatch,' the young soldier asks, looking sidewards with elbows on the barred ledge.'Orangutans weigh two hundred pounds and spend all day swinging through trees. Anyone who's tried to do a pull-up knows how difficult that must be. Orangutans are almost as strong as me.''Ha, reckon you're a hard case?' the young soldier laughs as he eyes my deceptively diminutive stature.'Supersoldier, actually.’ I nod to emphasise the point and gulp the last of my beer.'What's a supersoldier doing in savage garb?''Survival training. Otess here is an expert on the local terrain. He's been teaching me, and a few others, his tricks.''Strange, I've never heard of a savage training our military. So what's your rank, supersoldier?'My eyes roll upwards. 'Er, Second Lieutenant.''Second Lieutenant and a supersoldier already? Me too!'An hour or two passes, and I am pleased to say my transhuman upgrades have in no way improved my body's tolerance to alcohol. Otess and I bash our fists and spill froth as we joke on the only bar table where civilians and the military mix. Every time Otess refers to me as: 'Great Demon Lord,' it invokes howls of laughter from our soldier friend, and when I suggest there is an element of truth to the claim, the laughter grows louder. We get talking about the destruction of Orbital City:'...for a minute night became day. Officially, two thousand seven hundred and fifty two were killed. Could have been a lot more,' the soldier says.'I heard they caught the terrorist scum when they landed in an escape capsule, took 'em in a scram jet. You hear about that?' I ask.'It's all anyone's been talking about. They caught a girl. Dunno if you've heard, but the men who found her were found dead a few days ago. Officially a dyzongo attack, sounds suspicious to me.' The soldier's voice lowers to a whisper and he leans forwards. 'Here's where it gets weird: rumour has it the girl isn't a prisoner, at least that's not how she's being treated. Had her own quarters in the base, was friendly with a senior officer, a very young looking senior officer. Orders were given that no-one hassle her, maybe he's fucking her or something. Some are even suggesting it was an inside job.''Funny, I haven't seen this girl around the base. Where abouts they keeping her?''They were keeping her in D wing. She was seen in the canteen, laughing and joking at one point. Apparently she was flown towards the mountains, fuck knows where.'

Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - Mydilsburgh

Dry blood glistens on Titas' face as we stand atop a hill and embrace the wind. A convoy of STG vehicles are cruising towards an industrial town dominated by chimneys and a transporter bridge: a blight on the horizon which appears to have been constructed entirely from rust.'The town of Mydilsburgh. Strong military and STG presence here. Otessa tribe come on rare occasions for trade. Not a pleasant place, your highness.''Maybe the scram jet took Mila here. Not a good idea to march into town with a dydongo. I suggest we go undercover. This is a long shot, but do you have any credits, Otess?''Otessa tribe use Anatolian currency to buy clothes, weapons, ammunition. Credits important, not that I have many.' Otess opens his wallet and reveals three hundred credits. 'My money is yours, great demon warrior, please take.''I do not want your money, Otess, but maybe you could buy me a drink in town. I could murder a beer!''Murder beer?' Otess tries to restrain his frown as he scratches his head.We travel close to Mydilsburgh and dismount from our steeds within tree cover, continuing on foot in the hope the horse does not become dydongo food in our absence. Upon entry to the town, we are greeted by billboards of torn paper and crowds of miserable faces: Citizens and non-citizens worn down by their daily routines. A child runs barefoot through a puddle in the cracked tarmac, splashing a man who is slouching beside a begging bowl. She bumps into Otess then stumbles into my arms.'Whoa, slow down there, child! What's the hurry?'The girl glances back at a fat man who is charging with a bright red face and clenched fist. 'Thief!' he yells as the child struggles from my grasp and hurries into an alley. Otess and I stand in the man's path and he stops dead, his sweat soaking through what I can only describe as a dress.'That girl is pickpocket, I must have justice!' The fat man bends forward, wheezing, and his hypocrisy brings a smirk to my face.'You dare raise your voice to King Arturo of the Otessa tribe?''Otess, I can handle this.' I grab my companion's wrist as he reaches for his dagger, then glare at the fat man. 'Please explain the justice of a child living on the streets, forced to beg, steal, or starve?''Erm, erm-''One look is enough to confirm you won't be going hungry any time soon, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a fat, old git take out his misery on an innocent child. Now get lost!''But... but... the STG...''Are going to do what, when you explain what you planned to do to a small girl?' I step forward with fists clenched, and it is a relief to see the fat man skulk away in his sweaty dress. Now would not be a good time to reveal my powers to the locals.

Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - Episode 2: The Long Road to Anatolia

After a night of partying and hero worship, I rise in my quarters which are not much more regal than my previous quarters. Carrying the stench of alcohol and stale sweat, I find Otess waiting outside by his horse. The clutter from last night has been cleared up, leaving just bare dirt and low-quality farmland around the mud-huts. Titas is nearby, bearing large sacks at either side, hanging from ropes which cross his back, held in place by his spines.'Good morning, my king, I trust you rested well?''Yes, I did. Thank you, Otess.''I have made preparations for your return to Anatolia to locate your queen. Titas is carrying food and water to help us on our long journey. I will escort you, help you navigate the Arleoch terrain.'The entire tribe emerge to give their king a send-off, and I feel obligated to participate in singing and dancing which my friends back home will never find out about. We have a large breakfast of maize-meal, eggs and meat, and I drink about five litres of water to nurse this hangover. Once finished, I greet and hug a queue of one hundred and eleven tribe members, which provokes tears from some. They would probably bow to me if I asked them to.With our bellies filled, Otess and I finally set off for Anatolia, and the tribe continue yelling: 'Goodbye,' as we ride our steeds into the distance.'Dydongos are magnificent beasts. I can see your highness understands this.' Otess yells up from the lower vantage of his horse. 'They have powerful spirits. Only attack humans if we've wronged them. That's why we respectful. Our people worship and they no harm us.''Yeah, I'm surprised by how easy Titas was to tame. Dydongos were bred for obedience, but I suspect this one was tamed and then released. He understand voice commands.''He escaped because he was badly treated, but found master who is true of heart. He is demon warrior's for life.''Maybe, or maybe he was ditched because the food bill was too high! Anatolians aren't great when it comes to practicality.'For two days we traverse the Arleoch terrain of mangrove swamps, palm forests, moorland, and arid regions within a narrow strip of land connecting the continents of North and South Hersperia. Setting up camp, we eat dried fruit and meat that was packed by the tribe, and Otess spends the evening telling me about his tribe's proud history which he refers to as our heritage. Away from light pollution, the stars are many as we admire the night sky, feeling increasingly sleepy. The snoring dydongo prompts us to move our sleeping bags to a quieter spot so we can get some rest.Not long after sunrise, we depart our campsite, and Titas becomes excited by the sight of a herd of paraceratherium grazing the wild grass. The world's largest land mammals - herbivorous rhinocerous relatives which would provide easy meals to a dydongo.My first instinct is to slap Titas' shoulder and tell him to 'Calm down,' as he snorts and stamps his foot. However, it dawns he must eat too, and our provisions will not sustain his bulk so I dismount, saying: 'Okay, big guy, go get 'em!'Titas dashes off at a faster pace than I though he was capable of, reaching thirty one miles an hour. The herd spot the charging dydongo and stampede, but they do not carry their body weight so effectively and soon he catches up. Titas sprays white phosphorous into the air and it rains down, sizzling paraceratherium flesh. The screams of agony are upsetting to hear, but unnature must do its thing.Titas gores the rear leg of a straggler, causing it to limp. He bites into his prey's underbelly, disembowelling the poor creature, and as he feasts it yelps for a herd which flee with their flesh still sizzling. Otess and I approach, waiting as Titas gorges himself over several hours, soaking his face and grass with blood. The paraceratherium continues to whimper, even as its insides are almost hollowed. Finally, the creature's eyes close and it is spared further suffering. Otess and I use the opportunity to dig into our provisions, but eating is not easy, given what we have just witnessed.

Sky City: The Wrath of Arturo - Coronation Day

The mist has cleared and the sun is low in the sky as the smell of white phosphorous lingers. Otess sheaths his bloody dagger as we return to our steeds, having made easy work of the feared San Terian Guard. I slot the phaser into my pocket, not that I have need for such a puny weapon. 'I thought you couldn't help me fight, Otess.''I turned back to see justice done. You were going to let one of them live. I could not allow that. You've been of great help but we must erase evidence. Your dydongo can do that.'''Good point... Titas, it's time to have fun!' I point to the tents and vehicles. 'Torch the place.'  Titas unleashes his fiery breath without hesitation, setting the three remaining tents ablaze, then tipping a truck with his horns. Roaring, he rears up and clatters the roof of another with his forelimbs, leaving large dents and startling Otess' horse which trots to a safe distance. When the San Terian Guard come to investigate, they will assume only dydongos were responsible for the carnage.'My friend is not here. She was taken in a scram jet but hope is not lost. The rebellion implanted us with tracking chips, we may be able to find her.' I mount my steed and Otess does the same. 'I must return to Anatolia.' 'Anatolia is a long way. Come to village first. We can give provisions, help you on your way.'Leaving flames in our wake, Otess and I return to the tribe to see banners draped between mud-huts. Tables are covered with food and wine, and a boar carcass is roasting on a spit. Children are growling as they run in masks which I assume are intended to represent Titas rather than me. I am not that ugly. Cheers are piercingly loud as the crowd jump and clap and dance. We dismount from our steeds and no sooner than my feet have touched dirt, I find myself floating among raised arms.'Ar-too-roh, Ar-too-roh, Ar-too-roh! they cheer.We eat and drink wine and tell the story of how we defeated the San Terian Guard to a muted silence and dilated pupils. The tribe's people present me with an animal skin shirt and repeatedly refer to me as: 'Great demon warrior,' which makes me blush each and every time - the title definitely suits me. Children say how they wish to grow up with my strength and courage, and adults explain how the Otessa tribe are destined to rule Eryx, now their king has arrived to claim his crown. I would not wish to offend by questioning their prophecy so I just go with it, and get increasingly drunk in the process. As the sun sets, Otess rises and stands before me with a sense of purpose in his gaze.'Arturo, you have fulfilled our prophecy and earned your crown. Please come.'My legs are a little unsteady and part of me wants to laugh as the crowd gather in a circle with Otess and I at the centre. I kneel before him as instructed and frivolity gives way to solemnity as all eyes fixate on the soon-to-be king. The sight of tears in the eyes of men and women makes me feel both guilty of exploitation and humbled by the opportunity presented. Inevitably, I will abandon those who revere me.'Great demon lord, as prophecy foretold a beast rider came to fight for us, an immortal, to rid us of our enemies. Arturo truly bears your spirit. Today we shall crown him king of the Otessa tribe and pray his strength and guidance continues to protect us... Talya, bring.'A young lady draped in jewelry brings a beautifully carved box to Otess. He opens the lid to reveal a wooden crown which he holds before me as Talya rejoins the circle. The crown itself is far from extravagant yet bears an energy, a sense of honour encapsulated within a minimalist design. Suddenly, I struggle to regulate my breathing.'Great people, I present unto you: Arturo, your undoubted King. Are all present this day willing to pay homage and service?'The tribe signify their willingness and joy with loud and repeated acclamations, all with one voice crying out: 'Great demon warrior! King Arturo!''Great demon warrior, is your majesty willing to take the Oath?''I am willing.''Will you solemnly promise to govern the Otessa tribe according to our laws and customs, to execute justice in your judgements, to stand by our people as long as you may live?''I will.''Please, kiss the crown.'Lips dry, I follow the instruction and Otess places the crown onto my head, which imbues me with an indescribable strength: The strength of many. Goosepimples cover my whole skin as I look to my people; their mouths agape, their bodies motionless. This tribal village is now my kingdom. Not bad for a seventeen year old bottom leveller.'Arise, King Arturo!'Unable to restrain my grin, I stand with arms spread to cheers of: 'Great demon warrior!' I always knew I would become king one day. Shame I cannot stick around and enjoy my royal privileges.