MONDAY SLUMGARDE

 

Glynhroth Fernmire, a puckish half-elf with magic fingers, hatches what will be the greatest theft in Nirvraskan history: Raiding Dirkwall Highfort’s impenetrable nest egg of wealth, the Goldvault, and bring the ghettos of Slumgarde out of squalor. With the help of his ragtag team of misfits his ultimate heist is absolutely foolproof…or so it appears. Something wicked is amidst.

Last night I was writing in the Project Ghetto Elf manuscript titled ‘Slumgarde’ and really found the groove needed to carry on the story. Slumgarde is an action adventure comedy that tells the tale of a half-elf thief and his friends who have their own problems to fix as they plan the ultimate heist. It will not be an easy feat, for there is more to the story than just a gang of misfits looking to redeem themselves off of their Dirkwall city’s precious vault of goodies. This project is worked through the snowflake method, an entirely new method of me to work with since I usually write without pre-plotting ahead. Therefore this story just might come out as complex from its simple summary above and that there is a good thing.

I have four main characters. One of them is Glynroth Fernmire the half-elf thief who is puckish, sharp-wit, and unfiltered in mindset. The other three are:

Dwyte Allnutt: A man who has gambled his life and family away.

Thalgred Graycloak: A drunken dwarf of guts and tall-tales that heavily fabricate an unpleasant truth.

Blip Nimblefoot: A brainy gnome of quirky innovation, and flaw.

Of course the dwarf is a drunk and the gnome is a tinkerer but hey, I like to mess with the cliché and see where it goes… for even the familiar of tunes can hit different tones. This is actually my first time using the drunken dwarf cliché. Slumgarde overall is just as unique and a change of pace for me when not in the Shadow Khan Project, and Project Chosen One (Slicka) is just as wild.

Back to a bit of SG:I edits. Today is a rainy day.

THE MULTIVERSE IN FIRST PERSON NARRATIVE: All Up In Ricven's Point Of View

"Kind of hate pulling the last resort method, but it has to be done. A good ole laptop wipe and fresh OS re-install will do the trick."

Meanwhile, to keep from 'going mad' from this computer stuff while holding off on Shadow Genesis's third draft work, I had this idea on rewriting Project Multiverse in first person perspective. Ricven, my main character, is to narrate his adventures this time around instead of writing in the usual third person narrative. This will be my first time trying it out, so I did a free-write 'Pantser Style' to see how it will go, and here is the result below:


(By the way, don't mind the cliche' use of a few things done... pretty sure you'll figure it out. Everybody loves/hates vampires!)

R.T.II

The Multiverse

Vamper Vanquish

(1st Person Narrative Test Run)

(2,496 Words)

    It was too damn hot for anyone lacking good skin health to brave the cooking beams of Earthonia's sun. I mean seriously, the heat was one hell of a hot and bitchy bitch, and given the time it sure hell was not aiming to let up anytime soon.
    Perfect time to do some surface work here in Marysis before even considering going down into the darkness of Celamune's under-earth, for that is where I really need to be. Down in the tunnels with my trusty monster mashing knowledge essential for the job.
    The vampire killing job.
    Now before any of you start tripping under notion of this being some kind of cute and adorable vampire tale done way too many times, and please don't even bother to ask as to how one such as myself even knows about that heart-throbbing teeny romance trend, I'd prefer that you sit this one in and listen from start to finish, minus the prologue, but I can't guarantee an epilogue is not hiding at the ass-end of this.
    I came into Earthonia on a random exploration whim. You know, using the planeswalking forces of Tetracon to open my way into the seemingly infinite world of worlds without much knowledge of what I may get myself into.
    Okay I am slightly lying... I knew what to expect, since what I do serves the Aeon's 'almighty decree', which is snuffing out the forces of evil that threaten to bring an unbalance to the multiverse.
    And by the way, the tetracon is an instrument of the gods. A crafty cube containing mass knowledge, and essential to the whole 'world hopping' thing I explained in a tiny little blip minus the monologue worth of detail.
    It's a full time job, bringing the ole foot-to-ass burying into the ass cleavages of evil, but the in-between work is the funnest.
    Okay, everything is fucking fun about my occupational hazard, especially when one like me is blessed with the powers of Aethra, the all-ingredient that makes up the multiverse. Simply put, I am the bad guy's worse nightmare, on the side of good and justice and all of that, but I do things my way, and although it tends to piss off one of the Aeons, who I find to be a prick, I still get the job done.
    Like this job coming up now, and I am sweating out some serious balls here. Athenius is going to rub it in as to how I didn't take that heat resist charm from him as if I actually need it. Not like I was venturing into a volcano... I sort of did that already, long ago.
    You know, when I saved an entire world by deflowering the last sacrificial virgin who screamed as loud as the raging tribesmen that came at me like a spear-chucking marathon?
    Damn mage has his uses, Athenius that is when it comes to charm enchantments and spells and such, but as usual, I can be a bit hardheaded... says the rest of the group of misfits.
    Not to further digress, Marysis is a region that is arguably the most powerful nation of provinces setting in Earthonia's west. I know all of this after mingling with the fancy crowds in Celamune City.
    In case you're having an issue pronouncing that city name, just say “cell”, “la” like you're “la-la-la'ing”, and “moon”... like the moon.
    Now that's out of the way, Celamune is having a few 'political problems', like every other powerful capitol and there politics and shit, but the worst of the worse has to be the whole attempt in overthrowing Celamune's chair of power for the favor of a not so sophisticated sort. Then again, vampires can be just as sophisticated, but Celamune's consul overseer sure as shit ain't having it.
    Turns out, this bat leader by the name of Eridr wants to 'convert the masses' and bring all of Earthonia into an era of darkness. Do you know how damn cliché that sounds? Converting the masses? Destroy the sun? A world forever in darkness perfect for all things bump in the night?
    You see where I am going with this?
    Yeah, I see you see what I see here.
    I came about this predicament by word of lush mouth, the pretty mouth of a nice looking dame who goes by the name Silvia Hightower, consul adviser of Celamune's overseer, Marquis Celas. It all started when a few sketchy fellows attacked one of the overseer's banquets that carried over into the night, when things got pretty interesting. Hooded up and throwing the authorities around like the toy knights they were at that point, and get this, they were slinging them around with no hands. These grim-looking men crashed the party like a group of angry protestors without the signs and silly rally songs, plus they had some serious TK power.
    Another typical power, TK, which stands for telekenesis... the ole mind-over-matter.
    These men, discovered to be vamps, were quite powerful, and nice with the evasive maneuvers as not a single sword struck them down... until I got froggy and leaped.
    They never seen a being like me wield such a large sword before I reckon, let alone smash one like a metal hand to a mosquito. Poor vamp didn't even see it coming. The others knew better and fluttered away into the night.
    A very smart move.
    Fast forward a bit, my little heroics gained the intrigue of the overseer. A good drink and a tasty plate later, I get word about this head bat named Eridr, who well-played his way into becoming an adversary against the overseer and his hold upon Celamune. There was something not entirely clicking when Marquis spoke in detail about Eridr and his desire for conquest and 'painting the world black', but I knew in the midst of it that all humans are destined to be blood cattle when that happens, and Eridr won't stop with Celamune or Marysis for that matter.
    And judging by how those cloaked henchmen earlier rolled, I am willing to bet Eridr is one powerful fucker.
    So, after a lengthy table talk, evasive statements, and a sleek recommendation of me undertaking the deed thanks to one of the lovely and voluptuous Silvia and her spectating green eyes on my swordsmanship with Edge Breaker, off I went in the beating heat for Cellamune's Peak that holds a old and unused miner quarry that dives deep into the land's under-earth.
    I failed to mention how the mountains are conveniently close to the city.
    The moment I crossed into those jagged stone lands I knew right then how much evil lurked beneath my feet. I can literally feel the wicked throb of utter damnation jolting in a hum under the boot.
    For real though, I can sense the forces of the malevolent, commonly known as Nethra, the dark forces of all things despicable.
    It's also the syrup of death, if you brew it right.
    Through the barren rock and into the mines, I noticed before entering that the entry is broken of its wood barrier, the “Do not enter” sign demolished, but there is no footsteps. You'd think there would be a trail of feet in the dirt leading in and out, tracking logic, but evidently these bats can fly... typical.
    I am quite sure they know I am coming too, and now that I am roaming the cave's main tunnel without a torch, I am open chow for whatever fangbanger is waiting for me.

****

    Fortunately, there were none to greet me like a good door bat, and my eyes kick in the blessed night vision, a kind gift of the Aethric Force, once the light at my back shrinks and shrinks with each lone step I take. The first few walks down I hear nothing but the tunnel's natural hum and few little critters here and there, until reaching a forking path, two ways deep.
    So I pick the right path. Appears the 'right' choice, and pretty much the 'right' way to go, for my hero senses started to tingle 'just right'.
    Onward, the path snakes, winds about, dipping and curving as I reach the 'end of the road'.
    Before me now is a large, gaping, empty, hole... lined to the edge in torches.
    Yeah, someone has been keeping these warmly lit... or is this magic?
    Gonna go with magic on this one. Why? Because I can see the pure mystical essence burning upon their metal rods. That's magic vision for you.
    It gets better. This whole chasm is blazing with fire. More flammable wall torches naturally built into the stone, fired up and quite fancy looking. Or at least they look fancy to me. The carvings are nicely done, like someone took their sweet time making sure every bit of detail counts. These vamps are an dramatic sort with the art I tell you now, for the whole chasm looks like an spotless art piece straight out of an exhibit.
    I hope the architect won an award for this, for this is some damn good architecture.
    Done with my evaluation, I take a dive into the classy ass abyss. The fall is a long one, with every now again a ring of wall torches keep the descent less dark and lonely. I finally hit the ground like a feather, no sound, and my evil-vanquishing senses went off the charts. My whole back lit up in a blazing chill. If the word 'blaze' and 'chill' even works for odd an combo. All around me is more under-earth art.
    Everything from the smooth stone walls to the thick black pillars, silver-crest at their base, with expensive looking drapes colored in reds and chalk white.  Even the rock floor, gray-colored of course, complete with a long rug straight for the great gates, is painstakingly decorated with that archaic regal feel like above.
    Only this time we have two menacingly tall statues a good distance away guarding a set of stairs, and a huge door so big that giants had to have put those things together.
    The statues look like shirtless men in muscle-bound glory. Their faces are hidden in extreme quill-spike helmets, and their groins, if they even have pillar and stones, are modestly covered in actual threads of red and white. Their loin cloths just a shy inch from the floor and bear what I know damn well is the fangers bat-winged emblem of demon head pride, in silver. Can they be so predictable? I mean they could have chosen something less ominous, but I am not going to bother to judge on design choices here.
    As for the brawny works of marble black, they pose stoic in their well-drawn overflow. Too much detail for the eyes, and surely anyone would agree if not have some sort of visual elitist orgasm. For you know, some tend to be suckers for top-notch lookers. Both held spears with crescent moon-shaped blades, giant C-shape hooks like sickles perfect for farm work. The spear's shafts hold coiling serpents hugging the length, with their serpentine heads facing outward fang-open as if they could whip out and strike at any given moment.
    Wicked shit.
    I felt myself drawing towards them actually, though in truth, I am really just taking the step of bravery forward while watching my back despite the fact nothing is really behind but a wall well sculpted and a few pillars. Nothing is as intimidating as these two guard statues, and I get closer than close to them I can see the pure life in their eyes. The snakes eye sockets held gems of glowing white, and their spear holders gaze, seen from their helmets, are black... a dormant... fiery... black.
    I didn't even touch the first step when those long spears came crossing down before my face, too damn close, and those snake eyes came to life in a hot, flashy white hiss.
    “Figures,” I said. All thanks to the spine swelling chill fattening up in sensation since first touchdown in this chamber of stylish overkill.
    And so, the statues come to life.
    All that black marble started looking 'pretty real'. The snakes for one, around those spears like slithering springs, surge with shivering scales like a current to their heads, and the hisses become more and more real, their mouths included, fangs and all... even their damn forked tongues. Those red eyes took on black slits, dangerous cuts on white orbs, and the death scowl is like any other snake's glare. They try for my face, snapping, hissing, snarling and so forth, but I am too damn quick for them to get a taste of this rare Sepian meat.
    As I clear their strike area I am greeted fully to two hulking men blacker than black, and eyes just as darker. The gate keepers step on down for me, moving like careful guardians ready to do me in with those long ass scythe spears as they get into that stalking stance, tip of their spear-scythes in my direction, and slowly nearing my spot without a single word as their mouths, once again noticeable from their cool ass quill-shivering headgear, keep shut.
    Now I knew this shit would happen. I knew this all too well, because it is something I've dealt with times and times before. I can't even count on my fingers and toes come to think of it. You see, when the hero enters the scene, and there is a big ass dread-inducing statue, only in this case there are 'two' big ass dread-inducing statues waiting for me at the end of the line, there is an unarguably fat chance that the stony brutes are not just stonework meant for people to marvel about like a bunch of snooty suit wearing spectators eating royal cheese while they sip from glistening wine glasses gold-rimed and held with two dainty fingers.
    These statues contain the beasts within. Furthermore, these great monstrosities are waiting for one unlucky fellow to just waltz on end and trigger their wrath. In this case, they are all about sticking the punishment to me.
    Actually, they want to just outright kill me.
    As if they knew I was coming.
    I could say this here is just some sort of crafty defense mechanism, the vampers home security that I carelessly tripped off, but I won't. I am going to go with them knowing I am here, for there is no way in all of the many hells and damned and oblivions those  bloody suckers are unaware of my presence.
    Plus, I smell damn good... even as I sweat.
    “And so I, he who is named Ricven, stands before the towering twins of blacken stone, whose spears hiss like the snakes of venomous doom,” I said, then I let Edge Breaker, my six foot silver sword hot with azure courage, come to life in my hands. “This is going to be quite the mid-boss battle.”

CONCEIVED IN HIS NAME: SHADOW GENESIS: INCEPTION EXCERPT [Revised]

"I wanted Shadow Genesis to have a bit of a 'Beginning Feel' as to how the realm of Shadara, originally Shadowrealm in the first novel, was created. Being one raised under multiple spiritual and religious beliefs, I turned to Genesis I for inspiration. I am spiritual by default, but I also respect others sense of faith."

Sometime back (this old blog post) I revealed the prologue to 'Shadow Genesis: Inception' as a means to further explain my aim to relate the title and its events with the creation of Shadara itself and what is to come through the series. Pulling from the 'Greatest Book of all books', I discovered how much my work clicks with Genesis I in the bible, and how the creator brought our world into existence. What better way than telling the world through others?

Take Elder Scrolls for example. In game books provide various lore written by other entities in the world of Nirn for the player to discover and immerse themselves in. The player gets a better feel for the Elder Scrolls universe and its 'life'... catch my drift without further gamer elaboration?

Without further explanation, check out my newly revised opening to Inception. I took the 'Prologue' tag off (after much contemplation and advice from others) and made it an nice excerpt written by one of Shadara's inhabitants.

Conceived in His Name

From Darkness to light, births first twilight. It breaks, shimmers, to scatter endless brilliance. To conceive twilight’s dark, the infinite of stars. Betwixt its cradle luster, our home is born.

By breath of its maker, who roams still its watery wake, he deems his creation forever in essence, to live endless amidst its cradle of stars.

He blankets the night sky with Eos veil, and from his finger, the light of Luna. The maker saw his work with please, and he divides Luna from eternal night. Where night stirs beneath Luna’s spark, darkness stirs even, while Luna’s light breaks darkness to dawn.

The maker deems this so with please, then parts its watery seas, and within its airy gap arise land. The maker molds and erects this land; its waters recede and gather. Now land exists with sea, and the maker is pleased. He waves his hand across barren land, sprout from voiceless call. In comes the flora of life.

Our home sprouts vegetation, from the smallest of plants to the greatest of trees. All bestowed by the will of its maker, who steadies his work with please.

Then the maker waves his hand once more, and from flora comes our world’s wilds, creatures of land, sky, and sea. The maker saw this with please, but his creation respires incomplete.

From the core of his being, the maker’s flesh, the essence of life, is harvest. He waves his hand once more, and the flesh of his being seeds our home. Flesh becomes sentient, and with the wild and its creatures lives the first of his image. The maker saw this with please, and so the firsts shall rule over all creatures of land, sky, and sea.

The firsts shall soften our home with great diversity, to swell great and plenty. As the maker saw this too with please, he brings forth his last creations, the heart of the world, and its kin.

From the realm’s heart surface the true kind, kindred of the crux and overseers of our home and all that is existing. He gives them a name, “Elementai,” and all of the names of the firsts who now roam. He names our world’s crux after his own, and all that is edible theirs to consume.

Then the maker said to them. “I, Umbra Divinius of Dark, give you the world, the beloved nightrealm of Shadara, made in my image, and forever in darks twilight. Embrace its creation, and rule its eternal course. Know its creatures, the mass of Shadaran kind, and guard its crux that beats beneath its earth, for it is the reason of your existence, the life core of all that is my creation. Know the passage of time, guided by night’s Luna, and all its periods and recess.”

The elementai and the firsts of Shadaran kind follow his words, and with the last of his breath, he ignites the world. From the center of its core light rises and lives. Kindling every plant, stone, and creature of chosen.

The realm of Shadara illumes with life, as light and dark lives in harmony. The maker saw his creation complete, while into the twilight’s dark he ebbs with please.

-Ty’Ka Tikhal

(Shadara’s Genesis: First Creed)

Though Shadow Genesis Volume One: Preludes of War is out... and been out since 2010, I still suggest checking it out, as well as staying up to date on the coming of its reboot. I have been taking a good break before working on its 3rd draft while also checking out different publishing options both traditional and indie. Leaning forward towards Book Baby for that one, but then there is this interesting site called JukePop I have discovered through a fellow author name Joan Albright. I recommend checking her out!


And now I go back to note taking without OneNote, working with Evernote, and getting my gamer fix on... among other things.

Mark of Umbra | Khan Dynasty