Monday, 31 December 2012

Stripped of Heart

Part 5 of my Star Wars fanfic/ short story. Enjoy and a Happy New year to all.

Stripped of Heart

“Good day, Sith scum.” Grevious was happy. He had pushed back the clones, relocated to a better base and could eerily gaze enjoyably at the captured apprentice.
The latter suspended from the magnetic locks, arms spread eagle as if crucified. Droids held stun batons and had no qualms about using them as cattle prods and torture implements. For a week they had their fill of his screams; droids were the perfect torturers, having no emotions whatsoever. On the eight day Grevious had come to visit him.
“I have nothing to give you,” groaned the apprentice. He was having difficulty breathing properly.
“Oh yes. I am well aware of that,” replied the cyborg sadistically.
“Then why?” rasped the apprentice. “Why all this? Why not just kill me?”
Grevious let out his metallic laugh. “Because you are a message, Sith. Thanks to your sabotage I now know that there are other Sith other that Dooku, and they are against me. I will imprison you forever, showing them what awaits them should they decide to get in my way again.”
“I am useful to my master,” said the apprentice. “It won’t be long until he comes for me.”
“Your master you say?” asked Grevious. “This wouldn’t be the same Darth Mortris who discreetly passed me a warning about some Sith assassin in my base?”
The apprentice’s eyes spread open, wide in shock. “No! You lie!”
“Did you not find it strange that your engine blew up?”
“I was struck by lightning. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“You engine was indeed struck by lightning, but it was not natural.”
  “You lie!” screamed the apprentice.
“Then watch this. This is from the onboard astro droid,” said Grevious as he extracted a large, circular astro droid head. After a few button pushes an image began projecting. It showed the storm with lightning erupting from the surrounding cumulonimbus clouds yet not bolt hit the starfighter. Then the image shook violently as a lightning bolt crawled from the underside of the ship. It was definitely not natural lightning; the image projected it as darker and different shade of blue and violet. After the final twist of electricity, the image ended in static.
“As you can see, it was not natural lightning. That was Sith Lightning,” said the cyborg. “And to my knowledge only few Sith remain who are powerful enough to unleash such potent Force powers.”
“Master wouldn’t stoop so low,” said the apprentice adamantly.
“He betrayed you, apprentice; sold you out. Your master was faced with a choice: you or joining our side. You want to know how much you’re worth? Four ancient Sith scrolls. That’s your price: four musty, yellow, scraps of paper.” The cyborg let out a burst of laughter and bent over in a coughing fit. Desperate, the apprentice reached for the Force, attempting to break free. He channeled anger and pain, his heartbreak fuelling his power, and the droids were thrown backward. But he wasn’t strong enough to break free of the magnetic bonds. His anger wasn’t powerful enough. He tried to reach deep in his heart and channel the Dark Side from his very depth. He felt empty, as if his heart had died. What was the point in fighting? Why kill and battle? He had nothing: no home, no Master, no bonds of any sort. He was utterly alone.
“Don’t you have a war to lose? General?” he said meekly.
“Yes, yes. You think you have me now but I haven’t begun with you yet. You will be cast aside, thrown in a prison cell for the rest of your life. I want to see how long it will take for you to break down. I am curious how despair will twist you. I wonder how long it will take for the reality to sink in: that you are truly helpless before me.” Grevious signaled for the droids to take the apprentice again.
They took him to a large, thick durasteel door. It opened with a loud whirring noise. They unshackled him and jabbed their stun batons at his side. The apprentice stumbled inside a small room with nothing but a small ribbed window. The only illumination inside the room was a series of narrow beams of light.
The apprentice splayed pathetically on the ground.
“Your master tells me that you are fond of this,” said Grevious. He held up the apprentices’ saberstaff. The apprentice was too weak to properly stand up, let alone try to snatch the lightsaber. He eyed his weapon longingly. With a grunt, Grevious extended his fist and crushed the weapon as if it were made of putty. The weapon crumbled into dust in front the apprentice.
“You are helpless,” repeated Grevious before leaving. Once all were gone, the apprentice rushed towards the weapon remains. The hilt was crushed beyond repair. Only the four blood red synthetic remained intact; the ones that powered his plasma blades. He had created them himself when his master had taught him how to create a lightsaber. He placed them inside a pocket and took in his surroundings, trying hard not to despair. His master had left him and he was imprisoned in a durasteel cage on sine remote desert planet. He had no plan, no weapon and no power.
He was truly alone.

Wednesday, 26 December 2012

Hunting and Hunted

Another part to my Star Wars fanfiction. I really should properly name it. Ah, Whatever. Enjoy folks

Hunting and Hunted

The apprentice ignited one end of his saberstaff, the red blade pointed at the Padawan at his feet. This would be his second Jedi kill in less than an hour. His master would be extremely proud. He’d be one step closer to learning more, to becoming more powerful and be all that closer to attaining the title of Sith Lord for himself.
But all that came to a sudden halt. The artificial lighting of the hanger lit back up, draining power from the backup generator. All around them, battle droids poured in, their blasters at the ready.
“An impressive feat, Sith Apprentice.” The partially robotic voice came from a large, hunched figure.
“General Grevious, I presume,” said the apprentice. Grevious coughed in response.
“I was sent here to do something you couldn’t, General,” continued the apprentice, shifting his stance to face the cyborg as well as still hold his red lightsaber at the Padawan’s neck.
“You destroyed my facility,” replied Grevious angrily.
“Unlike you, I follow orders. And I don’t constantly screw up,” shot back the apprentice. “We’re on the same side General, and I’ve already completed my mission. So how about I just leave without causing you more damage?”
Grevious let out a noise that sounded like a mixture of a growl and exhaling. “Kill them,” he commanded. Before the droids gave their usual ‘Roger, Roger’, the apprentice pressed a button on his wrist panel, triggering the explosives he had planted earlier inside the reactor core. The building shook violently, toppling droids over. The apprentice leapt, avoiding the tremor at his feet and ignited the other end of his lightsaber, as he cut a swathe through the small army of droids. Jenna, the Padawan, retrieved her weapon and assaulted the droids on her side. Soon both duelists found themselves fighting the droids back to back.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” yelled the Padawan over blaster fire. “I’m still going to kill you.”
“Oh, so you just need my support the deal with the droids?” asked the apprentice in a mocking tone.
“Be quiet and help me destroy Grevious.”
“You want to take him on?! He’ll kill you for sure.”
“You Sith are all cowards.”
“Don’t mistake survival instincts for cowardice. Our sense of self-preservation is why we lasted this long.” As they spoke more droids fell to their lightsaber skills.
“Besides,” continued the apprentice. “I want you to live and become a Master. There is no glory is slaying a Padawan.”
“You’re despicable and I shall kill you,” she roared as she took out her rage on the droid closest to her.
“Him first,” said the apprentice, pointing at General Grevious. The cyborg had removed his tattered cloak and clutched four lightsabers in each of his arms. Having destroyed the last of the droids, both apprentice and Padawan clashed with him, flanking his sides. But they were tired from their previous battles, and this dulled their powers. The apprentice spun his saberstaff and, with a stroke of luck, his assault managed to cut through one of the General’s arms. He blocked a blade aimed for the Padawan’s neck and together they managed to destroy another of the cyborg’s weapons. Grevious kicked the Padawan away and launched an assault against the apprentice. Using one of his damaged arms, he stabbed at the long handle of the saberstaff, damaging one of the emitters. One lightsabers which constructed the lightsaber staff began fluctuating wildly, forcing the apprentice to switch it off and discard it. Reduced to one weapon, he blocked the General’s offence, allowing for Jenna to sneak behind the cyborg. Her slash damaged his spine mechanism and the cyborg’s mobility became more rigid. With a particularly vicious swing he knocked the apprentice down and stomped on him with one large claw-like foot. Using the Force, the apprentice managed to knock one of the General’s remaining lightsabers away from him, sending the unignited hilt sailing over to the other side of the hanger. Enraged, the cyborg stomped on the apprentice again and extended his foot claws, pinning the apprentice underneath him. Turning to face Jenna, the cyborg parried a strike and knocked the Padawan’s weapon away. He grabbed her by the neck and thrust his remaining lightsaber through her chest.
“Die now, Jedi scum,” he wheezed. Jenna’s eyes met the apprentice as she died. He could see the plea for help in her eyes before they slowly rolled into the back of her head. The apprentice squirmed wildly, trying the lift the General’s weight off of his chest. That look would haunt him forever. He suddenly was overwhelmed with the need to help her, to somehow preserve her life. But his Sith training had instilled in him only anger and hate, never compassion. Whilst the apprentice was having the beginning of an internal conflict, Grevious discarded her lifeless body away and grabbed her lightsaber.
“A nice addition to my collection. Three lightsabers in one day,” he commented. That did it! The way Grevious had discarded her body, like it was a useless piece of junk, the way he claimed that beautiful lavender lightsaber for himself. It was a thing of pure beauty and a monster such as Grevious did not deserve to touch it, much less hold it. And then there was the fact that Grevious turned his attention to the apprentice underneath his foot. The apprentice was confused by all these emotions welling up in him, unsure how to channel them, but he had final found a familiar feeling: self-preservation.
“Collect this,” snarled the apprentice. He grabbed the leg pinning him down and unleashed all the lightning he could muster. Telekinetically he tugged on the joint screw on the cyborg’s hip, exposing the delicate mechanism. He thrust his lightsaber in the cyborg’s hip, separating the leg from the rest of the bizarre creature. He used the force to throw the heavy appendage at the cyborg, toppling him over. Scrambling to his feet, the apprentice bolted towards the only upright starship and climbed into it. He was soon flying away, before his ship got hit. But he managed to put more and more distance between him and the cyborg despot.
He hit the intercom on his wrist. “Master. The mission was a success. I have encountered two Jedi and slew the Master. General Grevious killed the Padawan. The General and I had an altercation and my ship is damaged.”
“Most impressive,” replied his Master. “You have done me proud, my apprentice.” The communication ended. The apprentice let out a sigh. He had managed. He was tired and injured, had only one functioning lightsaber whilst the other hung uselessly in his robes, and his ship was damaged. But despite all that he still managed to succeed.
A figure stood under the rain and lightning, his heavy cloak and armor shielding him from the moisture. As the ship flew above him, he unleashed a bolt of lightning, catching the ship. The pilot would believe he was unfortunate enough to be struck by natural lightning. The ship spun wildly out of control before crashing behind a mountain in a billow of smoke. 

Thursday, 20 December 2012

Lightsaber Threeway

Part 3 of my Star Wars fanfic.

Lightsaber Threeway

The apprentice eyed them and decided that he wanted, no needed, to test his skills against this Jedi pair. Imagine, if he could claim his first Jedi kill when he was still an apprentice. And a Master to boot.
He applied a lethal amount of Force on the Force Choke he had on the clone and soon a thick snapping sound echoed throughout the hanger. The Clone fell in a heap, his head hanging limply.
“No!” screamed the Padawan. She ran towards the apprentice, her beautiful lavender blade held high. Her master tried to stop her but, seeing he was too late, he dashed after his pupil. Still, he was far away. The apprentice held his red lightsaber ready and in a split second moved in for the easy kill that the Padawan had become.
But his senses warned him of danger. A cyan lightsaber spun in his vision and he managed to block it. The weapon flew back to the Jedi Master. He pressed a button on the long handle and a second cyan blade appeared from the other end.
The apprentice locked blades briefly with the Padawan, before using his free hand to punch her in the gut, channelling the Force through his fist. He clashed with the Master, exchanging blows at high speed. Ducking underneath the Padawan’s blade, he locked blades with the Master before the Padawan added her blade. As he was about to be overwhelmed, the apprentice extracted his second lightsaber and swung the crimson blade in a wide arc. The Master anticipated the move: he used one hand to Force push his Padawan from harm’s way, whilst deflecting the red blade with the second blade on his saberstaff. The apprentice unleashed lightning at the Master throwing him backwards. As the Padawan moved closer, the apprentice connected the pommels of his lightsabers and twirled his red saberstaff. Clashing with the Padawan, he soon overwhelmed her defences and kicked her legs from beneath her. Her Master pulled the apprentice away from his student, engaging him in battle.
“Is this really all you can do?” asked the apprentice. He wasn't being snide; simply curious. His Master had warned him that Jedi Masters were beyond his league and yet here he was, holding his own against not one but two Jedi, one of which was a Master.
“Be quiet, you monster,” snarled the Jedi Master. More blows were exchanged. The Padawan re-joined the fight but was soon thrown away by the apprentice, who kicked her away. Both saberstaffs twirled, clashing equally. The apprentice couldn't feel any advantage; both warriors were of equal skill and wielded equal weapons. After another blade lock, the apprentice twisted off one end of the lightstaff and once more wielded twin lightsabers.
“I believe the Jar Kai technique will best you, Jedi Master,” mocked the apprentice. He launched an assault, driving the Master to the defensive. Flanking the Jedi, the apprentice drove a blade through the handle of the saberstaff and both cyan blades disappeared. Following the momentum, the apprentice drove his second blade through the Jedi’s abdomen.
“That’s the disadvantage to constructing traditional lightsaber staffs. Cut the power cell and both blades vanish,” whispered the apprentice in the dying Jedi Master’s ear before Force pushing him away.
“Master!!” The Padawan let out a scream through the Force, forcing the apprentice to back away.
“How could you?” she screamed. The apprentice reconnected the pommels of his weapons and twirled his staff around.
“He made a mistake. I exploited it. It’s called winning,” sneered the apprentice. He couldn't believe it – he had bested a Jedi Master.
“It’s called murder,” snarled the Padawan. She launched herself at the apprentice, using the Force to push him. But he was awaiting that. As he felt his body move, he himself applied the Force, throwing his lightstaff at the Padawan. Retrieving his weapon, the apprentice leapt from one side to another trying to catch the Padawan unaware.  The Padawan used the Force to throw cargo boxes lying around in the hanger at the apprentice, slowing him down. Engaging him once more, the Padawan tried to get close enough to destroy the hilts of his staff. The apprentice, aware if this, caught her in a blade lock before switching off the blades and causing her to stumble forwards. He was very close to her, at an angle where she had to twist awkwardly to catch him with her plasma sword. Switching to hand-to-hand combat, he unleashed a flurry of punches and knee strike, as well as hitting her with the unignited hilt of his lightsaber. The Padawan was thrown away, her lightsaber lost and her head in a daze. The apprentice moved in for his second kill of the day.

Monday, 17 December 2012

Welcome to the Jungle

Part 2 of my Star Wars fanfic series. Enjoy

Welcome to the Jungle

Felucia was an uninhabitable planet. This part of the jungle had nothing but leaves the size of houses and chockfull of flora and fauna designed to eat and digest anything in their path. The apprentice wiped sweat from his brow for the millionth time. Aside from the humidity and sheer moisture of the place, the terrain was just unspeakable. All the obstacle courses in the entire galaxy could not have prepared him for this jungle. And this was just the beginning.
Of the jungle was terrifying, the command post was nightmarish. The gray super-structure loomed over giant boulders and trees, sticking out like a gray sore thumb amidst the ambient colors of the Felucian jungle. Unlike your common droid factory, this post was not designed for production but control. It was here that the Seperatist leaders relayed their commands to this post and in turn it would give the droids their mission. This command post relayed missions to droids for this entire sector, covering some three dozen planetary systems. What’s more, because this post is older that the newer ones in the Inner Rim, the command center had a trace which could lead to the identification and location of whoever sent the command. And whoever gave the orders was either a politician or a business mogul, so having the finger pointed at them was unacceptable. So they thought this post was safe, hidden deep in the dangerous jungles of Felucia. What they did not count on is a political treaty which pushed the planet into Republic hands. That would explain the legions of clones which have been slowly but surely edging closer to the vital command post. The clones knew what their price was: the Jedi had attacked the planet with all their might in hopes of deciphering the vital data. If they arrested the Seperatist leaders, the resources for the droid army would dwindle significantly. Count Dooku, the leader of the Seperatists, had already anticipated the loss of that post and had ordered his General Grevious to shut down and destroy the facility. But Grevious had argued that the droids could still maintain their facility. And now it was too late. The droids could not hold off the clone army whilst the facility is being shut down. And so a Sith Lord named Darth Sidious called in a favor from another Sith Lord: Darth Mortris. The latter had in turn dispatched his apprentice on a unique mission: to infiltrate and sabotage the command post. The data records were to be destroyed and the self-destroyed sequence to be activated. The apprentice had to slip through a battle between the Clones and droids.
The apprentice pulled up his hood, covering his features. His jungle robes were not the billowing over preferred by his master and the majority of Sith; he rather preferred the close fitting version, with no extra cloth to snag or billow in the wind giving away his position.
He ducked behind some sentry droids and quickly disabled them. He used the Force to leap towards a barred window and used his lightsaber to cut through the metal. He checked his holographic map once more: to the right was the barracks and eventually the front door, leading to the battlefield outside. He headed to the left and, a few patrols later, he was on his way to the reactor room. That was where the bombs went. Once the changes were set, he headed for the ventilation shaft. He crawled around the tunnels and was soon atop the control room. He’d need to destroy all the machines in this room, droids or otherwise.
He patted his lightsabers, making sure both were still there. After what happened with the turrets, he decided to adopt twin lightsabers. But he made sure to hide one of them giving the impression he uses one weapons, giving him a trump card in case of difficulty. He clutched one and used the Force to push out the ventilation door. The metallic grid crashed into a monitor, shattering it. The apprentice followed suit, landing in the midst of a room full of droids, crouching like a jaguar awaiting the prey. There was a second of silence until the droids computed this sudden eventuality. The apprentice broke all silence with the ignition of his lightsaber.
“Destroy him.”
“Roger, roger.” Blaster shots rocketed around the room, trying to catch the dark figure with a red lightsaber. The apprentice weaved around the droids, letting them shoot down their own companions. His lightsaber made short work of the rest. Sheathing his weapon, he activated the self-destruct sequence and unleashed a barrage of Force lightning in all directions. Hard drive after hard drive exploded and soon the room was a pile of charred silicone and metal. He climbed back into the ventilation shaft but took a different path. He had to go to the main hanger and steal a starship or fighter back to the transport ship awaiting in the stratosphere. He had landed thanks to tan automated glider; an arcane method but unexpected. And if something is unexpected, one does not look for it.
He arrived at the hanger where a small battle was taking place. The droids were soon overwhelmed by the squad of clones.
“General Stal. We have secured the hanger,” radioed in one of the clones.
“Jenna and I are on our way, commander,” was the reply on the intercom. This was bad. If a Jedi Master and Padawan made it here his escape would be all the more difficult. The apprentice decided that he needed to get on that ship and leave immediately, before the Jedi got here. Igniting his lightsaber, the apprentice dashed towards the clones, cutting down two before the others had time to react. Deflecting blaster fire from the others, the apprentice unleashed lightning once more killing another clone. He saw one trying to flank him and used the Force to pull the clone towards his lightsaber, impaling him. Using the dead clone as a shield, the apprentice ran towards the remaining clone and rammed the two clones together. The living one sprawled on the ground, his weapon lost. As he scrambled on his feet, the apprentice applied the Force on him. The clone felt pressure around his neck and was soon hovering in the air, his feet dangling uselessly.
“Let him go.” The scream came from the smaller of the two figures, both wearing the white and tan of Jedi robes. Two humans, one male one female, strode in. The female had her lightsaber ignited; a beautiful lavender blade illuminating her features. The man had his lightsaber in his hand, unignited.
“I said, let him go!” yelled the female again as she raised her blade.
“Calm yourself, Jenna. We are dealing with a monster who does not respond well to reason or civility,” said the man. The Jedi Master glared at the apprentice.
“But I suggest you do release the clone, Sith.” He spat out the word like a bad taste. The apprentice eyed them curiously; he had expected someone more . . . impressive. The man looked frail and the Padawan could barely stop twitching. She reminded him of his companions during the Sith selection process. She reminded him of a fearful pup.

Friday, 14 December 2012


Another part from chapter 2 of Firstborn. Enjoy.

The monster, erect on two legs, hissed furiously and stormed into the classroom after me.
I groped for Djinn and found nothing. “Crap, crap, crap, crap,” I cursed, each word louder than the one before it. I pulled out my pistols and started squeezing their triggers at the Lizardman—which was nearly on top of me—pouring every ounce of magical aura into the guns and the bullets it was firing. After what seemed like a year, I opened my eyes and saw a dead Lizardman splayed on the ground, its head resting comfortably between my legs.
“That went well,” I muttered in relief as I retrieved Djinn. A series of deep breaths helped my racing heartbeat to regain its normal tempo. I made it back to the pitch-black corridor and prayed that that was the last of the Lizardmen.
I noticed the telltale signs of a spell cast only in the corridor; a dampener, reducing one’s sense of smell, sight, and sound. Lizardmen, which used their heat-seeking abilities, just like a snake, would not be hindered by the enchantment: this magic was clearly meant for any unfortunate idiot who happened to stumble in.

Thursday, 13 December 2012


My latest short story. Enjoy.


Their arrival here had not been planned. It was never meant to happen. They had simply been standing on a planetary rock that was destined for something much bigger than any of Them could anticipate.
They needed to stop in an emergency. It was not an uncommon occurrence; They had after all only discovered the ability to wander the vast cosmos some decades ago. They had bound their vessel to a plain rock where it could simply orbit around the planet whilst one of their mechanic inventions repaired the damage. That moment wasn’t meant to be life-changing for Them.
But the universe, as They learnt on that day, has a way of driving on its own course.
The azure planet was close, but not dangerously so. It might have seemed beautiful to any other species, but to Them it was simply rubbish. Pure, uninhabitable rubbish. They paid no attention to it. Nor to that entire solar system for that matter.
None of Them had felt the fist-sized meteor bump into their perch. Out there in the cosmos, where planets and stars reached vast sizes, size did indeed matter. But Their underestimation - a rookie mistake as They would later learn - had come at a very hefty price. The meteor embedded itself on the giant rock’s side, leaving no more than a slight tremor. But the momentum it carried initiated a chain reaction; one to a devastating effect. Slowly the rock altered its course, accelerating slightly. It moved, one lightyear at a time, towards its azure neighbor.
The rock They were tied on spun faster as it rocketed towards the blue planet. It had only taken a few minutes for both planets to be locked in the other’s magnetic field. The blue planet, a gargantuan beast of equal size to their perch, had pulled the planet closer to it. They scurried into their ship for safety, knowing very well that those few seconds would be their last. It was too late for takeoff: Their ship still required repairs and the magnetic forces in play were too strong.
Seconds later the two planets collided. After this event the blue planet would never again be the same, with its axis tilted and its crust broken into a dozen pieces. Little did the hitch-hikers know that They were in the presence of a rare event. The planets did not explode into a million fragments and shudder the solar system at its core. They merged.
But it wasn't over yet, They realized, as They emerged from their wrecked vessel. Most of their population died, but a few had lived to see another day. Now another dilemma overcame them. How would They leave? They were stranded here, with dwindling supplies, a ship in ruins and a population in dregs.
It took several days, weeks, months, years, until They stumbled across the solution to all Their problems. They realized that this planet, this virgin marvel whose birth They had witnessed, held one resource that They, in all their journeying had never encountered: water. This magical clear liquid, with its very basic chemistry, reacted differently to different materials onboard their ship. One experiment led to the next, and They soon mastered the use of this resource. Some even learnt how to apply it to Their own bodies and found it nourishing against the tempestuous climate and ever shifting ground. They knew there and then that this element was the foundation of life. Life, pure and unencumbered, just waiting for the correct mixture in order to blossom into something alien.
And that's when They decided, that this planet, which had eradicated most of Their species in one fell swoop, would be the one to supply more of Their brethren. They would create Their next generation on this very planet. Meanwhile, They would repair the ship, in preparation to continue towards Their original destination.
So They tampered with the environment and the ecosystem. Just enough to nudge life into a start. Once They had established a flourishing living ecosystem, They departed, eager to return several millennia later in order to reap the fruits They had sown.
But the universe had thwarted Their plans once more. Life on the blue planet had become savage and monstrous. Large reptiles roamed the land; many more still refused to leave the sea from whence they were born from. This cornucopia of bestiality and blood had not been what They had envisioned. The creators were powerful and sophisticated; these beasts could not evolve any further. In time, left unattended, they would regress into some unimpressive, vile creature.
And They were furious. Their own DNA would have never been compatible with such creatures. They could never breed with such fiends. It was as if They were meant to be exterminated; maybe it was the price that the universe demanded in exchange for their enlightenment all those decades ago. But Their leaders, the most powerful and fearful of them, would not have it. They will never accept extinction, not when They had all this power. A new species, They decided, would be created, even if They had to start over.
And so They manipulated the heavens once more and wrought destruction upon the planet, eradicating nearly all life. It was a fresh start. This time They would control nature, not allow it to take its course.
They were overjoyed with this new creature They had orchestrated. They had engineered it to near perfection, placing random parts of their DNA code in it. Some of it would push this new species to flourish and branch out wildly. But the more ambitious planted their DNA strands to be activated only once the correct species emerged. After all, natural law had to be followed and only the fittest deserved to be genetically linked to their creators. Later on, the future inhabitants of this planet would call it 'mammal'.
Satisfied with Their results, They set this new species free from Their clutches into the hands of evolution. This was an exciting new prospect for Them; only a few mere centuries ago They had discovered the laws of the universe. They had manipulated space and time and found other planets. Some They had inhabited. Some They had ravaged, leaving an empty husk in Their wake. Their species had rewritten parts of the universe, perfecting and perverting according to Their whim. But They had failed at being Gods. They could not create life, merely tamper with it. Until that crash. It took the near-eradication of Their species to create new life. An impressive feat, having a dozen survivors create not one, but two separate eco-populations. Too bad the first had failed. But necessity had forced Their hand and They had finally gotten their way.
This new species will flourish; of that They were certain. They would leave it to its own devices and return later. They had Their own worlds to get to; places to rebuild, planets to conquer. But They would watch over this planet from afar: it was rare for Their species to get excited about something and this blue planet had done just that. They would watch, but not interfere. They would hear but not speak. They would influence but not control. Not until the correct branch emerged. They had after all, all the time in the world. In all of the worlds, in fact.

Wednesday, 12 December 2012

Comic-con, charity and Chosen Ones

So it's been a while since I posted anything which is not related to my work here and I decided, this being a momentous day (12-12-2012) and all that crap, I should write on my blog. Also, I'm bored.

So first off: Comic-Con. The local one. I had a great partner, who I shared the table with and the person in front of me was nice enough to come and introduce herself and stuff, so this, right off the start, was immediately better than the British one; where people would look at you cock eyed and the staff asks participants for directions. Also, I sold half the stock I brought with me, so Ryan is a happy bunny. (That comment was for exactly 2 people and its gonna come bite me back in the ass.)

Secondly: I may have promised that if I reached a 1000 blog views and 100 twitter followers (Don't give a shit about facebook. Take that Zuckerberg or however your name is spelt) I will release the working title of Book 2 from the Legacy series. I have reached the blog views and I'm only 19 followers away on twitter. So come one guys. (Work harder goddamit!!)

Trois: I am working on another short-story series/ fanfiction crap-thing-that-I-do-when-I-finish-all-assignments-(well mostly)-and-don't-wanna-deal-with-thesis-or-lectures. This one is set on the Star Wars: The clone Wars universe/ Cartoon network series. I have one part in called Training Day and the second one should be up tomorrow unless I forget.

Q: but why Ryan? Why Star Wars?
R: Because I can
Q: are you really that big of a nerd?
R: Yes. Now get off my dick!!!

Oh yeah. For those of you who are interested, me and a couple of students of mine are going to do a Star Wars-esque sword fight. Wednesday 19th Bugibba Piazza. They're Jedi. I'm an invading Sith Lord. With face paint. Lots and lots of scary face paint. I'm just saying; It will be epic.

Also, if you wanna buy my book; it's available on Amazon, just type in my name. Same thing with Smashwords. And leave a cocking review. Just a couple of lines. Or an essay. Whatever.

AAANNNDDD. . . . It will be available this weekend at the Access Centre (at Qawra) on Friday, Saturday and Sunday for the Christmas Village. Half the proceeds will go to charity. L-Istrina, for those of you who watch it. I might this year, just to hear my name/club be mentioned. (Oh stop judging, you watching it cos your family makes you watch it, or cos you wanna win a car or something. OR cos you're a boring douche-bag with no personality, who lets the Man tell you what to watch even when you're drunk at home on New Year's Day, you sad loser fuck).

Please buy my book and help the ones in need. Help yourself too with a healthy dose of literature. Just so you know, your kids are doing everything BUT read on the internet. Just sayin'.

Last thing before I go away. I have entered a short story competition for Writer's Digest and I'll get to know whether I won or not (chances are not) in February. I however, because I'm a left wing anarchist who say a big 'FUCK OFF' to all the rules, will post it on this blog. It's called Genesis and I shall be using a modified (editied) version of it as the prologue for my next series of novels which are more sci-fi based.

That's all folks. Stay sharp for Part 2 of my Star wars short story, as well as Genesis, and follow me on Twitter (@enkousma) and facebook (RyanAuthor).

Friday, 7 December 2012


Another part from chapter 2 of my novel Firstborn. Enjoy!

Feeling danger approaching from behind, I dropped and rolled to my left just in time to avoid the clawed swipe of a third monster. My momentum carried me to the other side of the room and, even at that distance, I stabbed in my assailant’s direction. The short sword’s blade elongated disproportionately, skewering the giant lizard and embedding its tip in the wall behind it. I cancelled the spell, reverting the blade back to its original form, and spun and scanned the room for the two remaining monsters. I spotted one at the far end of the corridor, scurrying in retreat. I reversed the grip on Djinn, holding it point downward, and swiped with all my might, slashing the distance between me and my quarry. A crescent-shaped wave of blue energy erupted from my blade and streaked toward the lizard, bifurcating it. I smiled at my second victory.
Momentarily letting my guard down.
Too late, my senses warned me of danger as I felt a mighty blow on my right side, which knocked me into a door, crashing me inside a dimly-illuminated classroom.

Thursday, 6 December 2012

Training Day

This a new Star Wars short story fanfiction I am currently working on. It's got alot of parts; this being the first. All characters are mine except for the universe. I don't own Star Wars. My bank account confirms that.

Enjoy and comment.

Training day

His master was not happy.

“Again. Focus. Do not let your own vitality turn against you,” he crackled from behind the shadows. The apprentice bowed, his eyebrows twitching in frustration. Why couldn't this old Muun ever speak in straight lines?
He reset the droid with a quick push on the control panel on his wrist and held his unignited lightsaber aloft. The droid stirred to life, ignited its own lightsaber and the two combatants locked blades. The apprentice was familiar with this training module: he had beaten it dozens of times, twice in a row if his latest attempts could be taken into consideration. Swipe, swipe, parry, strike, block, re-direct and strike once more. The droid gained a new scar on its left collarbone. He kept sparring with the droid, fluidly transitioning from one sequence to another. His mind, trained to be open to the Force, warned him of . . . something. He altered his step, swathing his lightsaber through the droid’s large clamp-like fingers, causing the severed joints and weapons to fall. Using the Force, the apprentice grabbed the lightsaber and performed a double strike, bifurcating the droid.
Something still felt off and a small smile creeping on his master’s lips confirmed his suspicion. A slight whirring behind him made the apprentice spin, both lightsabers at the ready. Three turrets aimed each of their double barrels at him and let out a stream of laser.
“Battle awareness,” croaked the master. He would harp upon this concept day after day, training session after training session. His master had described it as a form of active battle meditation: having complete awareness and control over all aspects of the battlefield. His master had stressed that he must use all means to gain the upper hand and survive. And that meant being victorious.
The apprentice used both lightsabers to block the laser from the turrets. He was on open ground, with no cover from the fire. Had he not gained a second lightsaber, increasing his defenses, he would have been overwhelmed. He covered himself, twirling the blades to shield his body and allowed himself to listen. The whole process only lasted a few seconds but the apprentice grasped the timing of the turrets. Abruptly he threw both lightsabers at the turrets on his sides, impaling the constructs. At the same time he channelled the Force, increasing his speed and ran toward the turret directly in front of him. He zigzagged widely avoiding the laser and when he was close enough he used the Force to grip and crush the control matrix on the turret. With a smug attitude he walked to towards his master, Force pulling both lighsabers and tossing the droid’s weapons back at what was left of it. He knelt in front of his master.
“Good, good. An impressive use of the basic repertoire of the Force.” It was a rare praise from his master, but it was heartfelt. The apprentice smiled, happy to have pleased his mentor.
“But maybe it’s time you faced a real challenge. One that stakes your life.” Before the apprentice could react, his lightsaber was yanked from his side and into his master’s awaiting hand. From the nearby stream of running water, a gush of water surged towards his face. The water engulfed his head, threatening to drown him. Panic coursed through him and his mind was tethering on the edge, soon to plunge into panic. He needed to breath but ha could never break his master’s Force powers. He focused all his power on creating a small bubble of air covering his mouth and nostrils, allowing him to breathe dregs of foul, stale air. But air nonetheless.
“You can’t resist me forever. You must take action,” said the master. The apprentice agreed. Action was needed, and immediately. But he couldn’t attack. Not against his master; not against someone with such vast power. With his air supply at an end, he tried to remember some sort of power, Force or otherwise, that could help him in this situation. But his master had only taught him the basics. He hadn’t even shown him how to operate the droid or open the holocrons.

The holocrons!

The answer was now clear. He needn’t fight his master’s Force powers: not with the technique he had in mind. He took one last breath and released his hold. Water invaded every orifice of his face. The apprentice committed himself to the Force and then let go. He released all hold he had on the Force coursing through his body, the very life in his body. Slowly his body began to slow down, shutting down and ceasing function. The apprentice soon fell unconscious, but left a small portion of the Force, warning him if anyone approached him.
The Master felt the Force leave his apprentice and released his hold on the water. His apprentice fell unconscious on the ground, his skin paler than usual. The master sensed no life in his student. Should he attempt to heal or even resurrect him? He needed the boy after all. The aged Muun approached the fallen apprentice cautiously.

As the master approached, slowly closing the distance, the apprentice’s eyes snapped open and abruptly sat up. The master halted his step, puzzled. The Force surged once more through the apprentice, who got to is feet and pulled his lightsaber from is master’s grasp. Anger clouded his mind, bolstered by the fear of nearly dying. His entire life, he had been taught that anger and hate are what give power, and that is how he must use the Force. He relished in the power and lit his lightsaber, angrily bringing the blade down on his mentor.
But the plasma sword never connected with the aged Muun. Having used the Force to block the swing and push away his apprentice, the master let out a bellicose laugh which echoed throughout the cave.
“Morichro. I see you wasted no time in examining the holocrons I got from the Jedi Temple. It takes quite some skill to use such a technique. However you’re far from mastering it. Seeing as you’re still half-dead.” The apprentice got to one knee and still clutched his lightsaber.
“Consider this is your graduation,” said the master. “It is our way to slay our own mentors. But it is also our way to learn all our masters have to offer before slaying them.” The master extracted his own lightsaber and hovered the blade over the apprentice’s head.
“This is the Sith way. Rise now. You are the Sith apprentice to Darth Mortris.” The apprentice rose to face his master and gave a court bow. Mortris spun and began walking away.
“Come now, my apprentice. I have a mission for you.”

Friday, 30 November 2012


You guys wanted more Firstborn so here it is. Last we left, Erik is preparing to enter a school building filled with Lizardmen. Enjoy.

Chapter 2:

Having a pair of firearms doesn’t change anything when you know deep down that your prey is unaffected by both darkness and bullets. I stood very still as my eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness, picked up subtle hints of movement. A twitch here, a jerk there. I willed my magic right into my guns and I opened fire at the closest hint of movement. All hell broke loose, as flashes of red from my enhanced bullets showed giant reptilian figures scurrying around and running up walls. Angry hisses surrounded me, and I knew there and then that if I did not kill these monsters soon the predator could very easily become the prey.
There exist several types of magic but they essentially boil down to two: Wizards can simply wave their hands, say some words, and something happens. Or they can use channels. Channels can be just about anything: guns, knives, swords, bows and arrows. There is a downside, however: Everyday objects made by everyday people are too brittle to handle any real power. 

Friday, 23 November 2012


Final part of Chapter 1. Lemme know in the comments if you guys want more of Firstborn (this novel) or maybe something different. 


Before Roland could retort with very true accounts of my behaviour around his crime scenes, I walked up to the front door. I un-holstered my guns, a pair of identical Berettas, and took a deep breath. I directed my grim thoughts toward the positive side. How my sister would kill to be in my position and be able to see, maybe even capture a fabled Lizardman. Amaymon, too, would have a hissy fit when he realized what he’d missed. After a few seconds of smiling like an idiot, I was ready to confront the horrors that had the entire police force cowering in their boots.
“Let’s go negotiate,” I said.

Thankful Thoughts, et Addendum

It occurred to me that yesterday was Thanksgiving for my American readers across the Atlantic and, in that spirit, I thought I'd share some of what I'm thankful for. 

Before this post can launch off into the aether and into your brains, lemme just post a little disclaimer here: I haven't slept in 24 hours, still high on the medication I took yesterday, have aches in that part of my body called 'everywhere' and am chugging scalding hot coffee in hopes that the magical elixir of the Aztecs will cure the headache I've been having for 3 days straight. 

And on that happy note, let's get started.

First, I'm thankful for the two brain cells which rubbed together and formed the thought which spurred me to resume writing again. That's the story behind Firstborn really.

I'm thankful for all the people who read the book. Even the sample pages. 

I'm even more thankful for those who bought the book. Presumably to read it. Although I know for a fact that they make lovely pillows. If you wanna join this group of people to whom I give all my love, try going

I'm thankful for all who edited my work and those who helped promote it.

I'm thankful for good music, movies, anime, the whole enchilada. Right now I'm on a Star Wars craze and have plans to do a Lord of the Rings marathon with Shaun this weekend. I also have a Naruto iPhone case with Akastuki red clouds. Yeah, I'm that commercial.

I'm thankful for reviews (Hint, Hint!), which so far have been verbal. Lets write them down people, this isn't the Constitution of England. Which doesn't exist. Cos it's not written down. Ya dig?

I'm even thankful for the one jackass who posted a negative review on my Amazon page. In all fairness, he tried (yes it's a he. I know it, I can Feel it. No woman would be this much of a douche-bag. I recognize my own gender's assholery), to be candid and helpful. He failed. Mostly because the review was based on 2 cocking paragraphs otherwise known as the preview and the entire thing was slanderous. There are maybe 4 words which I have taken into consideration. Again, help me drown this troll with positive reviews. A sentence or two will suffice. Or, hell just click on the stars. A rating is still good.

I'm thankful for rejection letters. There's nothing like 70 robotic 'this project isn't for us' emails to rape, kill and bury whatever self confidence you have. But I amuse myself with imagining how their faces will turn when they line up to watch the movie version. I just hope no one surnamed Stewart or Pattison will be in it.

But seriously, agents. Enough crap now. Yes you showed you have a big swinging dick. Huzzah for you. Now how about you own your eyes and reach inside your hearts and just say 'yes. Yes you poor, dreamer you. We'll give you a chance.' C'mon, have a heart.

That being done with I have some news. I have some free days on KDP select, so if you're that poor, (or that cheap; I know some of you are here for the free stories and laughter) you can nab one then. This only applies to the ebook version of course.

Also: if I reach a 1000 pageviews on this blog, or 100 followers on Twitter OR 1000 sales on amazon (including the freebie days), I will reveal the TITLE OF THE NEXT BOOK. And perhaps some info. Also, look forward to some competitions in which I give out signed copies of Firstborn, maybe a signed poster as well. Oh and maybe an ORIGINAL SHORT STORY which not even my beta readers have seen yet. (Speaking of which, I really gotta hand that to them. Good on Mr. Alzheimer's)

Is your interest peaked yet?

Friday, 16 November 2012


Ladies and Gentlemen; I give you the third portion (out of 4) of Ch1. Taken from my YA Urban Fantasy novel Firstborn. 
Part 1 is here:
Part 2 is here:


“You wanna go in alone?” 
“If any of you go in, it’s like providing them with a free lunch. Right now, I have a better chance at surviving them than all of you guys put together,” I said grimly.
Roland raised his hands. “I’m not gonna argue. I’ll say you’re a negotiator or something but you gotta call me the second it’s safe for my officers to go in that place. And Erik—” he called after me.
“Don’t screw up.”
 “When have I ever?” I replied innocently, as my lips stretched into a smirk. 

P.S. Next SFFSat post will be the end of this chapter. Lemme know if you want more of Firstborn (I can go up to 3 chapters) or maybe something different. Also feel free to check out the rants and random bursts of my everyday life on this blog. Guaranteed to provide a laugh. Or traumatize you for life.

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Expos, Elections and Expectations

Hello fellas. Welcome to the planet Jupiter, also known as the where-Ryan-goes-to-write place. As usual I bring you news, updates and just random crap. Today's selection; The Mcm expo (which I'm not gonna write in capitals. I'm lazy), The Election (yes, I'm that big a douche-bag) and updates with regards to my short stories and this nifty little blog I found where people are just awesome.

So the London expo.

Random voice in my head: But Ryan. . . wasn't this expo you speak of held 3 weekends ago?
Ryan: Yes. What's your point?
Voice: Why blog about it now?
Ryan: Cos now is when I feel like it.
Voice: But. . .
Ryan: Shut up, Bitch!
Voice: Sorry @@
Ryan: -_-.

My apologies is your mind is blown and you're picking up the pieces as if you're a scavenger during the zombie apocalypse.

So the Expo was interesting to say the least. Shaun and I went there for a total of 4 days. Although time travels differently in London. Either that, or the space-time cortex in our brains froze off during our 1 hour walk to find a subway sandwich place. Yes: we WALKED AN HOUR to find a place which didn't have Hebrew in the name and didn't deep fry everything. One day Brits will discover flavour and they're gonna freak!!
So we go in the hostel we're staying at and it's. . . not horrible. Well the comments of some sites scared the crap out of us but it turned out most of it was crap. Only set back was that the owner was Indian and was indecipherable. For the next 3 days (Friday till Sunday) we rush out of bed, Shaun puts on his costume, and we catch 3 trains, all packed with cosplayed nerds. Meanwhile I lug round over 50kg worth of books. Not fun.
First day: We get sent to the wrong table, set up on the wrong table and get sent away. We are pissed off and no one knows where we should be. We ask 4 different security/officials and they give us 4 different directions. Finally we find out where we should be and we set up. I see Ryan Sohmer pass by and have possibly my biggest fan-boy moment in my life. Shaun starts giving me shit, until Eisei comes along and then his brain cells shut down. Dumbass.
Oh and did I mention: No one comes to our table. We make maybe 5 sales between us. Keh.
Second day: We arrive at our table, spend some quality time with Eisei, Who bdw is the best saleswoman on Earth. Seriously, this chick gets us a whole bunch of people to our table, and they actually buy stuff. Well to be fair she is the most attractive member of the trio. And Japanese. And wearing a short-skirt school girl costume. Need I say more? Well, to be fair it was a cosplay. I dunno which character and I don't care.
Day three: we push as much merch as we can and try not to cry during out departure with Eisei.
We fail.
Then I come home and, tears in my eyes, write Late Goodbye, which can be found somewhere in this blog.

Over all Experience: Had fun, made lifetime friends, definitely going again. Maybe next time I'll be represented.

That's it. I've written it, it's over, moving on.

Now that the election of the World Government, I mean America, is over I can start another campaign where I shall have beautiful tweets, freebie days and cherubim singing. It will be so awesome that you will be able to hear 'Wings of Icarus' by Celldweller (YouTube it) in the background, even when there is a blackout. Especially during a blackout! And now every Sandy victim who happens to read this thinks I'm an asshole. Seriously though, I hope you guys are safe.

Voice: But Ryan didn't you state above that you would share your thoughts about the American election? Do you have any?
Ryan: Yes I do. I believe the character of Abe Lincon during the epic rap battle of history 'Romney vs Obama' summed up my thoughts quite well with the line:
"The President shall not be the shiniest of two turds".
I believe this applies to the local elections as well (not that anyone care about those.)
Voice: Erm. . . Ryan. . . Now everyone in America hates you.
Ryan: Fuck the haters. What America, what the World, needs right now is a Liberal, pot-smoking, feminist who actually knows what's happening in places like Wall Street, who knows about the Russian band Pussy Riot and who is aware of how screwed up the economy is. A sense of humour wouldn't hurt either.
Voice: So essentially you want Greg Proops to be the President of the United States?
Ryan: Exactly.
The rest of Malta: *raises hand* Ryan, who is this Greg Proops you speak of?

So yeah. That happened.

On to Updates. I have joined SFF Saturday!!! What is SFFS you ask? Why a blog, much like this one. Except that over there, professionals write and the word 'cocksuckers' is used in an artistic way. I don't see the difference. I consider asking a whole country to fuck off a work of art. But that's just me.
Sff sat blog is where a group of writers post snippets - a 10 sentence paragraph and then let others comment. It's like So You Think You Can Write and the panel is just so freakin' awesome. I'd like to thank everyone who commented on my SFFS posts. You really make my weekend filled with rainbows and butterflies.
And for the last update.
So far I have been posting snippets of Chapter 1 (from Firstborn) on SFFS. They like it apparently. And this gave me an idea.
I have a short story in mind and I plan to write it in snippets. Yep, this story will be in scenes of 10 lines each. So far I have the first one done, and at 7 sentences, it's, in my opinion good. I dunno how long it's gonna be; probably I'll kill everyone off when I get bored.
I'm gonna keep posting snippets of Chapter 1, until I run out. Then I'll start posting this short story. And continue depending on response. Who does that sound?
What I'm basically saying is, when I blog a post with SFFS, read it and leave a comment. And browse others' posts as well. There are some really good ones.

So yeah, it's been a busy few weeks. Between doing the gangnam style horse riding dance and singing both disney and old 70's rock songs in our room in England (I'm straight but I don't vouch for it. Or asexual. Which means I dislike everybody. Shaun's undecided), taking on a short-story project and hunting for agents, it's no wonder my headaches are increasing and I find myself conversing in the mirror with more frequency.

Until next time. Remember, check out my SFFs posts and Firstborn on Amazon.

I'd say bye, but I'm not really gone. (Creeeeeepppppppppyyyyyyyyyy)

Friday, 9 November 2012


Another part of Ch1 of my YA Urban fantasy novel Firstborn:

“And,” he continued, his eyes now wide open, “they aren’t human. I swear, Erik, they looked like giant geckos on hind legs. No one wants to admit what they saw, but we all saw it. ” He sucked deeply on his cigarette, forcing himself not to panic in the vicinity of his subordinates.
“Long necks, elongated snouts, tail thrashing about? Looked ready to eat every single one of you without a moment’s notice?”
“Yes, exactly like that!” Roland yelped. The cigarette was half gone by now.
 I smiled happily, much to Roland’s chagrin. “Lizardmen; you found Lizardmen.”

Check back next week for the continuation. Enjoy!

Monday, 29 October 2012

Late Goodbye

Hey guys. Just got back from the London MCM Expo. Mixed feelings about that. Awesome con but its hard to say goodbye. 

This is a story I just wrote as soon as I got home. I had to pour my pent up feelings out and this is it. I apologize in advance and after you'll read it you'll know why. 

Dedicated to the 2 other people in the story. You know who you are. You'll be the one crying hardest.

Late Goodbye

They stood on deck waving at the lone woman on the pier. All had left, yet she remained; rooted on the spot she clutched the bag. Her hand shook, as if all the emotions that no word could ever convey were seeping through that one single gesture. It must have been all she could muster not to jump at sea and claw her way towards them.
They watched, intent on savouring every second that she remained in their sight. In their minds they thought that that moment would last forever but their rational brain informed them that the waves gently rocking beneath them was pulling them away from her, one slow excruciating moment at a time. Indeed a harsh mistress the sea is.
One of them had moist eyes and tears welled up. He knew he would cry. He tried not to, tried to save face, to force that defiant pride of his. But, to hell with it. Tears dropped from his chin and coalesced with the ocean. She mirrored his crying, managing one tear from her slant eyes. It was indeed a most heartbreaking scene.
The other stood there, his knuckles white against the railing. Despite the warmth he felt in his tear ducts he refused to shed a tear. He wanted this moment to be about the other two. It was a connection that transcended friendship, even romance. It was pure magic. He waved, and the others seconded his motion.
And that was it. Distance spread and their eyesight failed them. She was gone. One of them trembled in the cabin; be it from the unforgiving and uncaring cold or from them loss of perhaps one of the rarest people ever bestowed upon this world. The other didn't know. But he left the cabin altogether. But before hearing his companion pour out his anguish on the pillowcase.
They arrived home much later. They had stopped counting the hours, days and weeks. They were here and she was there and that was all that mattered. The first man had ceased his sobbing after the first day. But the second knew better.
At his house, the latter unpacked his belongings and came across a trinket. A shell, woven in string. Delicate, yet strong it was supposed to bring luck to the bearer. But as he held it, he didn't feel lucky. Instead he allowed himself what his foolish stubbornness had refused him to do the first time round. He cried and sobbed. His mind welled into despair and he struggled to find something to ground him. He took out a folder and all the trinkets which had constructed his journey and memory. On a paper he scrawled the three names that mattered in the world; one woman, two men. He placed all the trinkets in the folder and underneath the names he wrote “Forever bound to one another. You’ll always be in my heart.”
As he put the folder away, more tears splashed against the tile floors. But he managed a smile. Small yet true. He found himself relishing the memory, the emotion, one shared by three people. There is no bond stronger than that. He smiled because in a world shared by three inhabitants, he belonged.

Friday, 19 October 2012


It was a typical day in the secluded La Fortunata area in Eureka, California—the sun beating down as if to smite all the evil that permeates every corner of the land,  sirens constantly wailing in their pursuit of an endless supply of criminals, and the usual plateau of sounds as everyday civilians carried on with their daily routines.
I fall under the latter category.
My name is Erik Ashendale and people stared at me as I strode toward the elementary school some twenty blocks from my office.
Maybe it was the black trench coat. Maybe it was the sword handle that poked out now and then from under the side of the coat, placed horizontally across my lower back after all, for quick reach. Maybe it was the clank of metal as people noticed my twin pistols with the fear usually reserved for notorious gang members.
But mostly it was my reputation: Erik the Wizard, Erik the Creep, Erik who gets rid of supernatural nasties while everybody else prays to whatever deity they believe in. They all knew what I did for a living. They all poked their heads into my office window, hoping to catch a glimpse of me performing some ritual which summoned forth some ancient demonic entity. All they saw was my extensive collection of trinkets and, occasionally, my cat licking itself.