Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Some thoughts on Legacy series Book 2

Hello People of Earth and beyond. Since I've promised you guys some info on book 2 of the Legacy series once I reached a 100 followers on twitter (which I'v gone over since that time), let's jump right ahead to it.

First up, the story - Firstborn left us with Erik taking Abi and Jack as apprentices. Amaymon gives us some info about how Lilith did not reflect the true powers of the Seven Sins and that things are more difficult and more horrendous than they seem on paper. Fun times ahead people.

In this one, Erik and Abi try to find some common ground - their personalities clash and Erik has no idea how to teach her without killing her. Amaymon offers some advice, but then again, the cat rarely says anything useful. Some vampires die along the way (just cos I think there are way too many of them and it's my duty as a fantasy author to start thinning out the population).
Book 2 is a sequel (of course) but also a prequel (huh?). Let me explain. The story is going to be one giant flashback. Erik decided to take Abi to a special training facility under a Chinese restaurant. Yes, a newly introduced character is of Chinese origin, over 1500 years old and wrote a very important warfare book. I ripped off Chinese history - new achievement unlocked! The second one is - well you'll figure it out by yourselves.
A new magical channel will be introduced in this one (kinda like Djinn) and again it's from Asian mythology. Abi's new powers will be explored albeit not in a lot of detail (cos she herself is kinda new and she is one of a kind). Don't worry - we are gonna get to see her kick some butt. I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer at a formative age; heroines are inevitable.
As all that happens Erik decides to tell his story, starting from his childhood and the revelation he's a wizard, to initiation in the family business, to the patricide part. He gets a second mentor, the Mr. Miyagi type. Erik's mother gets to play a role of sorts and Gil is sorta nice in this one. Mephisto and Amaymon get reintroduced, and if you thought they were creepy before, think how they might look from the eyes of an eleven-year-old.
The main antagonist is a character created just for this book - and I can't wait to write him just cos he's so evil. I mean cheesy, Machiavellian evil and I just love it. Oh and there's gonna be a phoenix in this one. A big giant flaming bird. Kiss my ass Dumbledore.
The plot line goes all the way from Erik's childhood towards the point where he opens shop.

There are about 5 million hints as to what the Ashendale family curse is, and what is does and how can it be reverted if at all. There are also a bunch of hints on what Amaymon called "The puppetmaster" at the end of Book 1. And also who the mysterious traitor in book 1 is as well. There are hints. Obscure ones. Hidden deep within the double, sometimes triple, meaning of the words. Hehehe.

As for the title: currently I'm torn between Memories and Mind Walk. I was gonna go with Flash Back and Past Blast but then I grew a brain and a sense of style. So if you wanna help me out in this, post a comment with your favourite title. They are working titles mind you, which means they can be changed once I give them to an editor or publisher. You've gotta keep those people happy.
Don't even ask about the cover - although I will reveal it once I approve something which I like.

As you can see, its one long story. And given the possibility of becoming formally published I cannot give you a release date. It may be a year, It may be two. I'm just gonna go and say sometime in the next 5 years. That way when you get it earlier, you'll be happy and not throw stones at me.
I'm also working on short stories and a new series, so in between the Legacy books, you can look forward to those. And by short stories I mean Legacy series canon stories which fit in between the books.

Hope this made you somewhat curious about the next book. Please feel free to leave comments and questions; just no trolling. I'll ignore it and then shame you on the blog. And you wont even realize I'm shaming you on the blog. I'm just that awesome.

I think.

Sunday, 27 January 2013

Elations, Elections, Egad

Hey guys. Contrary to popular belief, no I have not died nor disappeared nor abducted by aliens. I've had exams which have upset my timetable to such a degree that I actually needed to get out of the house. It was bad. Now I only have one final exam left and hopefully I'll never have to deal with one of those fuckers ever again. I am very close to closing the chapter on my university stuff and get down to some full-time writing.

First off, if you're reading thank you. Your support means a lot and it will be rewarded. There will be a slew of short stories soon and I suggest you start with this:
Finished that a few hours ago and I have much more written down on my to-be-typed pile. I wanna get rid of this Star Wars one cos I've already started another. Yes I'm that big  fan. Stop judging.

Book-wise, I may or may not have news about a contract, but I'll receive a definite answer in April. Either way, I doubt book 2 will come out this year. But fear not, there will be something else. Unfortunately, since the publishing part is no longer in my hands, my job is just writing the story. Which is what I set out to do in the first place.

In the following months I shall be submitting an article and a Legacy canon shot story for the Kingdom of Fantasy magazine. Whatever they accept, if any, can not by law by published here. If they don't publish them, I'll post them here. In short, you will be entertained - its only the position that differs (try sleeping tonight guys).
And this February, I shall be participating in a Blog-aversary and will be posting a character interview. What this essentially means is that I will allow the spirit of kitty Amaymon to enter me and answer questions. Then I will jar myself and edit the living fuck bunnies out of them. If you've read Firstborn you know that the cat is the last person who should have anything public.

I'm sure I'm forgetting something but my mind got a rough whacking with all the studying. And it was probably not the best of ideas to discover Dungeons and Dragons Online 2 days before my exams. I apologize if this is not as entertaining; its been a while and to be honest, I'm not even sure the others are entertaining at all. My assumption is that my blog is read by four people who day after day hope that Mad Writer will post "I've finally did it - I've killed my neighbour for hammering a nail at 4 fucking am!"

I haven't posted a rant and people say I should, so here goes. Mind you, it 1 am here and I haven't slept properly since my reincarnation from an aardvark. I'm not really sure what an aardvark is but I love saying aardvark.


As you've probably gathered by now, I'm from a tiny, tiny, needs-an-electron-microscope-to-see-it-on-the-map, island in the Mediterranean sea called Malta. Here's how small we are - if you go an Google Maps/Earth (I always confuse them), you will have to scroll down so much that your finger will require deep tissue message.
And on this wonderful island of our, its election year. First off lemme just say that the phrase 'get off my dick' doesn't even begin to describe just how annoying the situation is here.
We have only 2 parties - one sabotaging the other, the other bitches and pokes back. Essentially we have the Jerry Springer Show version of what you might call democracy.
There are billboards all over the streets, so that you can't listen to Aerosmith in your car in peace and they all portray the two party members who are cat fighting for the position of Prime Minister. Yes, we're just like England: our Queens are for licking, our Presidents for wandering what the cock is it they do.
Now before I go any further, I have to describe the candidates because A) I'm a dick and B) it's a cheap laugh.
Our current prime minister looks like a cross between Emperor Nero and an iguana. The other one is more deceptive. In a certain light he looks like Yogi bear. In another it's a blonde Silvio Berlusconi.

Q: Ryan did you just compare the only 2 candidates for power with Italian tyrants who Bunga-bunga'd their reigns of tyranny ?
R: Yes. And here's why.

You see, they all promise us more money or more shit, half of which have has more fine print of it than Dr. Faustus's contract with Mephistopheles in the Marlowe play, when the sad truth is that there is now money. Yet people forget: my country had 17 billion euros in debt last year. God knows how much is it now. That is the number 17 followed by NINE zeros. If I were to pool all the money from all the banks in the country, discover a lost Egyptian tomb and somehow manage to get written on Lindsey Lohan's will, I still wouldn't have that much money.
Here's another perspective. Think about winning the national lottery. Over here its's a million euros. Think about what you'll do or buy. Most people I know always say the same thing - they would love to spend a month at the Bahamas, frolicking in the sun, beneath palm trees and possibly with a pair of tanned twin girls in skimpy bikinis.
With 17 billion you could BUY the Bahamas!
Malta itself, the entire 4 island archipelago, doesn't  cost 17 billion.

And the sad part is we are so entrenched in this bullshit that we ignore the fundamentals of life. Over here, there are no gay rights. There is no SOCIAL education. There is no appreciation for art whatsoever. Even the President does not attend a ballet performance held in his honour. Hard work is not acknowledged. What is acknowledged is horse shit like your background, where are you from, your ethnicity, who your parents are, what colour do you vote for, what colour does your family vote for, who are you married to and whose man-bag are you willing to lick.

Wow, Ryan, I thought this was a funny post.
Well there are some preachy parts, where I put on a cox-cumb (look it up in Shakespeare's King Lear) and deliver truths under the guise of a fool, a bard and a blasphemer.

Because that ladies and gents is the true essence of storytelling. That is the true nature of a storyteller.

On that note I bid you adieu. Till next time. And check out the latest addition the the Star Wars shortie:

Deus Ex Machina

Part 7 of the Star Wars fanfic


Deus Ex Machina

General Grevious saw the destruction his prisoner had wrought and angrily slammed his fist on the control panel.
“Get every assault druid and Magnaguard up there,” he yelled at the nearest machine. “It’s high time I end his pathetic existence.” He removed his cloak and set four lightsabers on a magnetic clip around his hip.  He had no time for taunting and tactic. The cyborg was set to unleash his weapons on the Sith and strike to kill. His torture, he realized, had backfired, creating a being more powerful than the one he had imprisoned nine months ago. The General could not afford to let the Sith escape. He had to rectify his mistake.
Wraith re0entered his cell and waited, listening with the Force. In the past, his training would have told him to attack the General exploiting the element of surprise and fear of the unknown. He could have done that now, in methods he could only dream of previously. But the Force had shown him a different destiny. Grevious would die at the hands of another. His destiny was not intertwined with the cyborg’s. Wraith had a different purpose in the downfall of his jailer: he would humiliate him, causing him to lose face and make further mistakes. This would render him in the state in which he would be when he would face his killer. The Force had done more: it had shown him how the Clone Wars would end. Or rather the different possibilities and outcomes. He saw a future where the Jedi emerged victorious, but be so weak what it would no longer uphold its philosophies and practices but sell out to the highest bidder. He saw a future where the Sith ruled; some areas of the universe eradicated and sundered into black holes. Others were colonized under a military rule. Death and destruction threatened the very creation of life. Whatever future he saw, they all ended the same: one side eradicating the other, only to later on eradicate itself. He sought one future; one where he saw suffering and pain, followed by peace and prosperity. To do that he had to follow a unique path and ironically, or perhaps it was destiny, his apprenticeship with Darth Mortris had given him the option to do so.
Grevious and his troops saw the Sith leaning against the wall of his cell, clearly awaiting for their arrival.
“Shoot to kill,” ordered the General as he spit his arms into two and ignited a lightsaber in each. Laser shot at Wraith but not hit him. A Force barrier dissipated each shot before it could hit his person. Grevious roared in anger and took a step forward before Wraith pushed with the Force and flung the cyborg with his entire regimen backwards and out of the cell.
“What’s wrong General? Can’t your droids aim properly?” he taunted. Grevious lunged at him smashing his weapons against the Force Barrier. Wraith held fast and no matter the strength of the cyborgs blows, nothing could penetrate that barrier. Wraith smiled mischievously and spun to face the wall. He placed both hands on it and gave the General as small, taunting, wave.
During his months of meditation, the Force had enlightened him to various aspects of science and power. He had discovered that by simply looking at things with a different perspective, he had the potential to do the impossible. His new powers, far beyond what he had during his apprenticeship, were proof of that. He had been reborn as a man, as a being of the Force and he was eager to try out his new powers.
The bonds which held his molecular structure together loosened and slipped between the atoms of the durasteel wall. The Force Barrier slowly dissipated, but he did not require it any more. Grevious’s plasma swords passed through him, his body having become intangible.
“What witchcraft is this, Sith?” cried Grevious as he watched, stunned. Wraith took as step and his body began going through the wall.
“See you on the other side General,” he said before completely disappearing.

Wraith’s cell was on the fourth floor of a straight building. When he phased through the wall, all that awaited him was a free fall to his death. The Sith solidified himself again and used the Force to slowly descend. After a few uncertain seconds, his bare feet gently touched solid ground again. The sun was setting and Wraith stood rooted on the spot, catching his breath, and allowing his face to soak up the warmth. For the first time in months he could truly feast his eyes upon the yellow and purple sky and the freedom that lay ahead.
“What are your orders General?” said the leading battle droid. General Grevious snapped himself back to reality and bullied his brain into action.
“Alert the ground battalion. Lock down the hangers and every access point to the facility. I want a complete lockdown of anything that can fly. Do not let him off this planet!”


Wraith was still enjoying the sunset when the first squad of droids surrounded him.
“Halt,” screeched one of them. Wraith raised his hands nonchalantly, before dropping them back down. More droids kept joining the fray. Wraith did not need to hear his heavy footsteps to know that the General was approaching quickly. He could feel his turmoil from a galaxy away: his pain, anger and suffering – it was as if the cyborg was built on all things negative. Wraith could almost taste the pain that shaped the Kaleesh general into the mechanical monstrosity approaching him. He couldn’t help but smile. Wraith was in total serenity with the Force and, indirectly, he had the General to thank. He no longer felt anger or fear – he didn’t need them to be powerful, contrary to is Sith instruction.
“Stupid droids,” yelled Grevious. “Shoot him. Kill him.” The droids aimed their blasters as Wraith.
Only, Wraith has disappeared.

Wraith stumbled and fell face forward.
“He’s on the roof General,” he heard from behind him. A lone droid aimed a sniper blaster at the Sith and Wraith had barely scrambled behind a vent for safety. He felt weak, spent and could not stop wheezing. It was foolish to bend space over such a distance. His teleportation had left his spent, and now a droid had him at its mercy. All he could manage was a small blast of Force, which smashed against the droid’s knee joint. The robot wobbled uncertainly and then simply fell over the roof. Still not believing his luck, Wraith mustered the energy to stand up.
Just one more, he thought. All he needed was one final push, one final burst of power. He could see the horizon from here: there lay freedom and he had come too far, endured too much, just to stop now. He felt his energy return and knew that he would be free today. With renewed vigor, he peered over the edge and waved at the General below.
“So long General. Thank you for your hospitality,” he yelled, smiling as he saw the cyborg take his anger out on his robotic subordinates.
“Get him,” he heard him yell. Wraith walked to the other side of the building before spinning and breaking into a run. Putting all his faith, feelings and his very life into the hands of the Force, Wraith leapt off the edge of the roof and soared a good ten feet into the air.
“Shoot him when he lands,” ordered Grevious. But Wraith kept on soaring, until he was flying forward, away from the prison which held him for nearly a year.
“Um, Sir? He’s not landing,” said a droid. Grevious growled and swung his hand at the droids. Its head flew into the air and tumbled uselessly.
“I can see that!” he screamed. “Get him.” But it was too late and all the cyborg could do was watch as is former prisoner flew off into the horizon.

Friday, 25 January 2013


Story so far: - Wizard vs some Lizardmen. Wizard barely makes it out alive. Wizard thinks he saved the day and makes a heroic entrance. A mutated Lizardman emerges and stabs the wizard, mortally wounding him. Wizard is barely alive. Time to rectify this epic fail.


There is one upside to my condition, however, that has proven to be very useful in my line of work. My body is constantly regenerating itself, healing the daily collections of scrapes, cuts, and bruises, as well as the occasional bullet or claw wound, almost instantly. My magic is strong enough for me to automatically heal my body with enough raw power left over to cast very taxing spells repeatedly and without fatigue. Already magical energy had gathered around the hole in my chest, reducing blood loss and regenerating tissue. Pain coursed through my body, but it passed as quickly as it came. The super Lizardman had barely taken four steps toward the cowering kids before I’d gathered enough strength to get up and point both Berettas at it.
“Hey, ugly,” I said. My voice was calm but every word oozed ethereal power as if I were possessed by the spirit of an arcane deity.
The Lizardman spun, poised to attack.
I squeezed both triggers at an inhuman pace, forcing the guns to spit magically-enhanced lead at a rate that no human could ever achieve. 

Friday, 18 January 2013


Another part of chapter 2 from my novel Firstborn. And before you ask; yes I did just kill my main character in the second chapter of the first book of a 13 book series. Just sayin'.


The air in front of me popped and a Lizardman materialized out of thin air: this one was clearly different from the others. Its hide was a different shade of gray, lighter and milkier and its eyes shone yellow and were shaped like a cat’s, rather than a reptile’s. Its joints were more slender and its muscles more wiry, perfect for speed attacks. Its tail, which, according to the few depictions I’ve read, Lizardmen used as a sort of counter-balance to aid them walk on their hind legs, was shorter and stouter, as if its owner had evolved beyond the purpose of needing a tail. Its long snout was considerably shorter, as was its neck. But the real danger was the claws; the unusually straight, sharp claws it bore on each hand were serrated on one side.
 To my knowledge, none ever had serrated claws, or indeed any of the features that this particular specimen bore which, I realized with morbid horror, were self-inflicted. The monster’s crocodile smile widened and it dawned on me that this monster, unlike its primal brethren, was intelligent.
Then with a blur it plunged one clawed hand into my chest.
As I fell onto my knees and onto the ground, I thought, Did that giant gecko just chuckle at me?

Friday, 11 January 2013


Another part of Chapter 2 of my novel Firstborn.


Behind the door were fourteen spastic and scared aura bundles, presumably belonging to the children. They were huddled in a corner to the right. Directly in front of the door, as if it were some grotesque bouncer, was a jagged and sharp aura, vibrating at an erratic pace and swirling in unnatural patterns. Its shape, colour and texture was completely different from that of the children: this was the aura of the final Lizardman. 

I willed my eyes open and blocked my aura-sensing, trying to replace the image of the swirling and erratic blob of energy with the image of a giant lizard. I did not plan on facing it in combat. If I made a single error, one of those kids could end up suffering and that was unacceptable in my book. So I calculated the position of the monster and pointed Djinn at where I assumed its chest would be. I placed Djinn’s tip on the cheap wooden door and channelled my own aura into the sword, which promptly elongated for the second time; the azure blade shot through the door and embedded itself inside the Lizardman’s sternum, skewering and pushing it farther back into the room. 

Releasing the spell, I opened the door and was greeted with the satisfying sight of a giant bipedal lizard thrashing agonizingly on the ground before stopping abruptly and remaining still. I sheathed my sword and spun to face the kids, just to make sure that none of them were hurt; Ignoring their looks of awe and bewilderment, I turned my back on them and took out my cellphone.

Thursday, 10 January 2013

Prison Break

Part 6 of my Star Wars short story/ fanfic. Enjoy

Prison Break

Prison had one advantage. Stillness. The apprentice had been there for eight months; eight months in a small black box. Grevious had thought this out well. Not only had he destroyed his beloved lightsaber in front of its owner but he had created this room specifically for psychological damage. A Force-sensitive, if powerful enough, could easily break out. The apprentice was not. That powerlessness was enough to drive anyone insane and the apprentice was no exception. He had broken down after a few weeks of holding out. He had screamed and attacked droids. In despair he had hit the walls until his hands bled and deformed; only to regenerate later due to his Force powers. Grevious had kept him weakened and malnourished reducing the apprentice to a thin, grizzled version of his former self. Sunken eyes, long unkempt air and a grizzled beard – the apprentice was sure he wouldn't be able to recognize himself.
But that despair had transformed into something . . . deeper. He had simply stopped fighting and screaming. He had ceased trying to escape. He felt something awaken in him, as if he had reached a state of transcendence. Tapping into it, as if kindling a small flame, he opened his mind allowing the Force to nourish him. He felt his strength return. Having no other route to take, he meditated deeply every day, spending nearly all of his waking hours communicating with the universal power. He had opened himself up completely to the Force, letting it direct is every move, his every thought. He knew that the Force would eventually tell him exactly when and where to act. He allowed the Force to help him. And the Force responded.

On the ninth month, a resonance went off inside the apprentice. Enlightened, he knew exactly how to get out of this jail. The Force told him that now was the time to escape. The apprentice felt excited: he had grown powerful in the Force during his months of meditation and, just like he used to when he’s been instructed in something new, he had looked forward to trying out the extent of his newly acquired skills. His mind still open to the influence of the Force, he sat down and patiently waited for the scheduled droids to come by.
“I just wanna see ‘im. He’s been starving for nearly a year. C’mon you tinker head, what’s he gonna do? I wanna see this so-called Sith.” The voice belonged to human. The apprentice could feel his life force behind the thick doors. He could feel the electrical pulse of the two droids behind the human.
“Hey, Sith. Don’t hurt me, al’right?” taunted the guard. He let out a snort of laughter and the apprentice could hear him fumble with his belt, trying to unclip the stun baton.

The apprentice felt the Force giving him a countdown, slowly feeling the ripples of power as if he were intricate with universe. Three, Two, One. He focused on the guard first. The human was soon lifted off the ground, a large pressure around his neck. Half a second later he fell on the ground, his neck crushed beyond recognition in a bloody mess and his face etched with a horrified expression. The door opened giving the apprentice a full view of two commando droids wielding large stun batons. With a twitch of his fingers, both droids were pulled towards him. With agility, far beyond the natural, the apprentice from his position, grabbed both droids and unleashed a barrage of lightning through them. Bright red arcs of electricity, a colour unlike the one which he used before his incarceration, arced around the droids. Bolts shot outside of the prison cell, illuminating the entire floor. Tossing the droids aside, he looked at the camera observing him.
“My name is not ‘Sith’ or ‘assassin’.” His voice rang with power. “I was the Sith apprentice of Darth Mortris. But that is no more. I am an agent of the Force, and the Force gave me a name. From this day forth I shall be known as Darth Wraith.” He channelled lightning throughout his entire body. Sparks erupted from the walls and electronic devices exploded into smoking scraps of metal. The acrid smell of burnt silicone filled the building.
“I’m waiting for you General,” he said menacingly. Darth Wraith stood still inside his cell, waiting for his jailer.

Friday, 4 January 2013


Another part of Chapter 2 from Firstborn. What way to celebrate the New Year than with magic, monsters and mayhem. Enjoy

There are many ways to counter a spell. A subtle and cunning magician would simply dismantle a spell covering this wide an area. The trick is finding the right component to remove and such things require patience and subtlety—two things with which I was never compatible. Brute force, on the other hand, was second nature to me.
For the second time, I raised Djinn high above my head, holding it as if it were a trophy and I the athlete who had just won it. I poured as much energy as I could into it, making the blade glow intensely. Blue became white and after a few seconds, hot, searing, smiting, supernova light pushed back against the swallowing darkness of the spell, although I had to shut my eyes; the luminosity was too painful. The pressure dropped, and both light and darkness vanished, leaving behind a ringing silence broken only by my panting breath. Natural light hit the walls, revealing a very mediocre paint job. 
My hearing picked up things that had been dulled out before: the chirping of birds, the distinct, tense orders from the police officers outside. 
And the muffled whimpering of children.