Because I have to Write

As I sit here today at the job filling my brain with new knowledge, I find my mind drifting to my works in progress. I saw the above image while web browsing and the message really hit home. More so now than ever I feel this way. One would think that after completing one book in a span of three months a break would be expected. But as I anxiously wait for the edit to return. The cogs and and wheels in the clockwork of my brain are winding and turning, new visuals are formulating and though I should be learning my mind is drifting. I find myself resisting the urge to open up Dropbox and loading up on of the two new projects, the prequel and the sequel to Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid. I find and internal conflict forming , though my logical brain will shut the other side up. I tell myself the job is for now, the writing is for the future.  

I read an interesting blog to day about becoming a full time writer. http://www.kseniaanske.com/blog/2012/10/17/you-can-write-full-time-quit-your-job.html

Now this is not something I could personally do at this point of my life, still it did make me think. I desire to make writing my career, not a wish blown on a dandelion. Do I have the gift? There are those out there that seem to believe so. Can I make it happen? A few months ago I would have said "Nah, it just a dream or one of these days" or "I'll get that book done.( After I beat this video game.)" 

That was then, however now, One novel down, the game has changed. The prospect of being a writer full time is not some mythical creature dreamed up from the hopes and wishes of a child. The idea that I have the the will, the skill, and the desire to make this a reality is tangible. The question is "At what cost?" What am I willing to sacrifice to make this happen?  The only thing I have to offer to the Muse is time. Honestly it is the one thing that any writer has to offer. So we sleep a little less, we watch little to no TV, we play fewer games and surf social media site far less. Note: that I didn't say we sacrifice these things, we are in fact sacrificing the time we dedicate to them. I personally don't believe you should totally cut yourself off from these things. Why? Because our environment inspires us.

Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor. (Alexis Carrel)

I wish to wish everyone a Merry Festivius and as all ways thanks for reading.

Turning the Page

Some people fear change. I pride myself in being person that embraces it. Now, I'm not saying that some change does not bug me. I just adjust to it extremely well. This week was day one in a major change in my life. I started a "real" job, I use the term "real" in reference to the job being a 9-5 with real benefits and weekends and holidays off. What does this mean for Marcel the writer? Nothing. I've made the decision that being a writer is not a goal to achieve. I am a writer, my words define me. My job is a ends to a means, but it is not a backup plan. We are only limited by our willingness to fail. How do you fail at being who you are?

So, we have turned the page in the book we call life.

I had the pleasure of resurrecting the a long running Dungeons and Dragons game set in one of my homebrew continents know as "The Hunted" for my beta readers this Sunday past. It was the first time I had really gotten to speak with them about the book and they had been waiting 9 months for me to be able to run the game again.

The general feeling was that the work was good and a hair short from being great. I tell you, hearing that was like the world being lifted off my shoulders. The anxiety of waiting to hear whether or not you have what it takes, really beats you down not matter how optimistic you are. They gave me some points of interest that they felt needed a bit of revision and after listening to the explanations, these points made sense and are easily adjustable. Now, I'm just waiting for the return of the edit so I can make the adjustments.

With my new job I have a pair of four day weekends ahead of me. Whoo Hoo! I hope to get both some reading and some writing done. As my beta readers are already asking for the next book, lol.

Speaking of which, the muse returned today on the drive into work. Honestly the worst time for her to show up and my recorder was no where to be found. I had to get my laptop up and running as soon as I got in the office just so I didn't lose the idea. Book two got a little jump start today and was planing on working on it til the new year, lol.

In other news because my blogs all ways seem to be my random thoughts. I purchased my domain and setup the offical Marcel Alexander website. www.marcelalexander.org. I will be setting up links to the books there once they are up for sell.

Also if any of you wish to read the first five chapters of Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid. Check out the link.  http://www.wattpad.com/story/3090251-moore-for-less-investigations-the-kid

The waiting game

Hey folks. Back again, so this past week I completed the reread  and sent the MFLI: The Kid  off to be edited as well as sent it off to my six beta readers. I find myself feeling anxious and nervous at the same time. Will they like it? Does it make sense? Did I keep my continuity together? Was it entertaining? I personally think it pretty good, But i'm admittedly bias. So now we wait. I know at least one of my readers has completed his first read, but is staying hush hush until  he has completed his second for a more analytical review. In the meantime I've been reading the WIP form a cohort http://odinsmusings.blogspot.com/ and started the MFLI: The Missing Short Story that's rolling around in my head. The Missing is intended to be Marcus first case that nearly got him killed and gave him the reputation of being resourceful and highly dependable among the upper class in Luimere.  In the weeks to come I will be sharing the SS with you all. As all ways thanks for reading.

Now for some thing completely random. Back in high school for my creative writing class I created my first world. With that world I created a history for each city. Being a gamer I ran a game putting my players in that world and over the years fleshed it out. Luimere is currently my forth and i decided to take all for and make them separate continents on the same planet. Anyway in the first world the Major trade Hub was a city  know as NuLief which translated to New Life. This was not the cities original name before it was known as Maji the mage city and was rule by the council of mages not by a queen. So years ago I started writing a short story explain the transition. And  I'm going to share a bit with you all today. This has only been seen by my wife.

Sample form "Elona's Tale"

             "You must not leave the forest. There are men out there and they wish to do harm to you. You must train your mind and your body to be strong, if you wish to leave and not worry. Now child eat your fruit and sleep, for your training begins.”

            These words were commonly spoken among the women of Abunlief; also known as the ladies of the forest. However, these were not the words told to Elona, the heiress to the throne, for she was told by her mother that she was to never leave the city, yet she must train to be the strongest warrior within it. And so she lived a life of routine, she would wake, eat, train, learn, and sleep. But like any young woman, one can’t always do as one is told. At night, she would use her trained abilities to sneak out of the city, with a small band of her dear friends. The troupe would always sneak to the line of the forest and stare from afar at the small farming town of Cirla, this town consisted of mostly men of whom the women of Abunlief had their children, and this place was also the trade post between Maji the mage city and Abunlief. On one particular night, however, things brought about change.

            “ Elona, are you not getting tired of doing this every other night, I mean all we do is stare at this place in hopes to see a man.”

            “True, and have we seen one yet?”

            “No, but I’m still not enjoying this very much.”

            “Then go home and stop bugging me, I feel lucky tonight”

At that moment, there was a loud scream from the north side of town.

Elona immediately drew her sword and ran in the direction of the sound. The others cried out to her not to go, but she did not listen, her only thought was to save whoever was in trouble.

            She came to a cautious halt and hid behind a barrel, only a few feet away from the situation. Before her, she saw a grotesque figure hovering over two fallen bodies, she recognized the creature as a bubear, a foul creature that would feed on both the living and the dead. It is said that a bubear’s touch will paralyze you, like striking fear in one’s heart. This hence the name “Boo! Bear” which later became, as it is known to this very day

 She heard the scream for help once more, “Well, now is the moment of truth, either I take this thing out, or that person and myself are going to die this night.”

With a war cry, she fired three of her hand crossbows bolts into the beast, followed by a full slash across its back. The bubear roared in pain and turned to strike her, she swiftly dodged its strike and countered by slashing its inner elbow, chopping off its right forearm. The creature lunged back screeching in agony, then suddenly caught ablaze. Elona paused, and as the Bubear fell to his burning death, she saw the boy captive with the glow of magic still around him. She moved over to him and held him while he caught his breath.

            “What is your name child?”

The boy looked up to see Elona’s green eyes and a circlet around her head covered in flowing white hair.

            “Meldoren” the boy whispered.

            “Well, Meldoren you are safe now, but you must not tell anyone of my presence here. Tell them that it was you, who defeated the creature. See to it that they find you a new home. And here take this to remember me by.” She handed to him her amulet, one of the gifts given to a made-warrior on their naming day.  As Elona rose to leave, Meldoren grabbed her hand.

            “Wait, what is your name?”

            “Elona” she told him and then vanished into the darkness.

Elona returned to her friends who were still waiting at the forest’s edge.

            “Nice of you all to have stuck by my side, as you promised”

            “Elona that was against the law.”

            “Yeah and none of us could see where you went anyhow, you are one of the best at moving swiftly unseen.”

            “Regardless to any of those claims, you stayed here, what if I died? Could you have lived with the knowledge that you could have prevented my death by keeping your promise?”

The three women hung their heads low. The look of loss on their faces would have made any court jester shed a tear.

            “Anyway, stop with the long faces, I did see a man. As a matter of fact I rescued him.”

            “Really, what did he look like?”

            “Just like the old stories say, minus the evil part, I dare say he was cute.”

The others gasped, and began to giggle. They went silent, however, at the sound of town’s folk stirring about.

            “Well ladies, I believe it is time we head home, we can't get caught out here.” 

Cold Days

Hello gang. Sorry about the delay in posting. I was stumped on what to write about this week. So I figured I'd wait until after I finished listening to Cold Days by Jim Butcher. Jim Butcher never seize to entertain, shock and surprise.  I'm not going to drop spoilers here. But if you like you like out of the box detective stories the Dresden files are the way to go. Jim Butcher definite took me on a journey I did not anticipate for this one and characters reacted different that i had guessed, which is all ways a good thing. The only sad part about the book is waiting for the next one, which who knows when we'll get that. Jim Butcher has declared he is diving into the steampunk genre after the completion and release of Cold Days and if you are like me, you're geeked by the thought.

In relation to cold days, I'm currently reading through MFLI: Kid as well as a story currently going by Nara for fellow writer and friend Odin. The idea being to have my book reread and adjusted by weeks end and sent for editing. We are looking at a January release on amazon for ebooks, if the sales do well, we will see about hard copies. The Violet Eclipse, my high fantasy series, I'm breaking up in a collection of novellas and will likely get a January release as well.

On a personal note I got a new job today!

The Road

   The road to Luimere is not only the road to a single book. I believe the road is the the path to chasing another dream. Last week I stated that Completed the first draft of MFLI. As of today I have also completed the first draft for the first in a series of novellas I intend to release, The Violet Eclipse. I find myself sitting here and wondering if I have what it takes to make it as a writer. Yes, lately I have whipped out the words and have done so much in the last three months,but there is that nagging voice wondering is it good enough?
 
Then I go to work and i get the reminder of the other reason I'm writing, the other reason I need to escape into my own imaginary world. One of my favorite rappers once said "Everybody has to work a job that they hate." Which is true at some point in your life you will. I, however am tired of it.

So I look down the road to Luimere and I see a better future. A future where I'm getting paid to write. Where I'm not working 2 pm to 10:30 pm and only getting 6 hours of sleep in order to get 6 hour of time with my family. Where I'm not coming home pissed off every day and going to work know i'm going to be pissed off before I sit down at my desk.

Anywho I'd love to answer any questions that my 20 or so readers  may have about either project. Feel free to ask a way.

Today's Sample is from The Violet Eclipse: Part one. (unedited)

Kritis lied down for the evening and Elenoren sang him a soft song. One of the songs of sword she would sing to him so often. Kritis had heard them all dozens of time, but Elenoren’s voice was so sweet that he never tired of hearing them. As she hummed the sword stances and strikes dance through his mind until he fell into unconsciousness.

The next morning Elenoren woke Kritis early and walked him through his sword drills. Elenoren was once the greatest sword-master in all of Daskan’s Fall some five hundred fifty-eight years ago. She hailed from the floating Mountains of Belanda home to the griffin riders. She had developed the twelve songs of the blade and mastered the use of the hand and a half sword. Elenoren was as beautiful as she was skilled and was often called on by many suitors. None however could stand up to her requirement. Nothing so brash and defeating her in a duel. She knew very well none could. Her prerequisite was simply that he maintains her level of training. Her last suitor however was her downfall. The last to call upon her was the then young elven King Olieni who sought to have the most attractive and most respected woman in all his lands as his bride.

Elenoren cared not that he was a King. She was not a traditional woman and she told him as such. She informed the king that he would as all the others; have to prove himself worthy of her hand. The King determined to have his bride did his best, but proved incapable. Infuriated and embarrassed the king ordered her capture. This was of course at the great expense of many soldiers’ lives. Before she was captured Elenoren had slain more than a hundred men with a single sword while still wearing her night gown. She was bound, gagged, and beaten severely. The King had Elenoren taken up to the high reaches of the Belanda Mountains. She was flown to the ancient forges high atop the floating volcano Aser.

There the king gave her an ultimatum to either be his wife or be his tool. At the time Elenoren did not understand what he meant by be his tool. She spit in his face and told him she would be neither. The King smiled a demented smile and had her taken to the Sword-Smiths. Ancient elves believe to have been taught by the Elemental Smiths themselves.

Elenoren was strapped to a stand with hands and feet bound and outstretched. Her bare body burned being so near to the intense heat of the molten rock. For hours she stood there being baked but not dying by the heat and watched the smiths craft a sword unlike any she had ever seen. The blade was three feet in length trailed by a foot long tang and was black as night. The cross guard consisted of four intertwining braids of silver. The handle was wrapped in a blackened wire mesh and the pummel was fashioned in a manner similar to the hilt.

The smiths cooled the blade and using their magic they assembled the parts. Hovering before Elenoren’s eyes the silver intertwining braid of the hilt slid smoothly up the tang and sat firmly becoming the cross guard. The hilt was followed by handle wrapped in the blacked wire mesh and the dark sword was made complete wire the placement of the pommel. The three weathered brawny elves laid the majestic weapon in the magic circle at Elenoren’s feet. They began to chant and fill the blade with magic. The volcano bubbled and swell as the master smiths drew strength from it. They continued chanting feeding the volcano’s immense power into the spell.

She knew then what was about to transpire and she screamed frantically. Elenoren pleaded with the smiths, with guards, with the King himself who stood by smiling. The chanting stopped, one of the smith picked up the glowing sword. His eyes were glowing the color of burning embers. He chanted the final words of the incantation and drove the sword deep into her chest.

Elenoren let out a horrid scream as her very essence was forcibly torn from her body and driven into the sword. Her soul torn from her body the King placed the black sword in the scabbard on his hip. King Olieni ordered his men to feed her body to Aser the Volcano as a tribute. The King returned to his palace with Elenoren at his side as his tool.

From that day forth Elenoren became King Olieni most prized possession. Many years passed before the shock completely wore off and she realized she could speak and be heard by those nearby. And speak she did, mocking the king at every opportunity. Before long he refrained from keeping her in his bed chamber. Soon after she was excluded from his training session as she would constantly correct him of his footwork and posture. Eventually, when he could not take it any longer King Olieni had her locked away in his vault. There she remained for over two hundred and fifty-eight years. Until Kritis and a traveling group of adventurers found the ruins of Olieni’s vault.

“Kritis, your form is beautiful as ever. Shall we start the next song?”

First draft completed

Today  November 17, 2012 is the day that I, Marcel Alexander, have completed the first draft of my novel Moore for Less Investigations:The Kid. WHOOOOHOOOOOO!!! (does a happy dance). It's been three month of work and have work diligently(cough,notreally,cough,cough,Guild Wars2,cough,cough) to complete the project. I initially aimed for a word count of  80,000 words, however my story is now complete as 75100 and some change. I feel if I try to force another 5000 words into it will sully the project with unneeded fluff.
 Phase one is now complete!  The next phase is to send the remainder of the book to my stepmother for editing. In the mean time, I will be working on some new art, Start a MFLI short story based off of one of the mentioned old cases from MFLI book one and maybe start book two as well.  As I had mentioned in an earlier post I'll be taking on the task of creating a tabletop RPG based off of the Luimere world and lifestyle.
I know I have around 20 readers and I appreciate everyone of you. Thanks for reading and do me the big favor of spreading the word!

Also I have finalized the cover.

Musical Inspiration

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dw1qi9ofbg4

 So a few of the other authors I follow have been posting about what music they use for inspiration. So I figured I should share. The above picture is for the Rockstar game "L.A. Noire" A really awesome game that I have yet to finish  The game is based in 1940s LA and follows the case of a LA detective as he rises through the ranks. The gameplay however is not the defining feature of the game for me. The soundtrack features 40s noir style jazz featured in the old noir films. I had the entire soundtrack on repeat for nearly a month when I started working on MFLI. The horns would transport me to my vision of Luimere and into the shoes of Marcus Moore private eye. Marcus's words and thoughts would just pour out of me as the strings played somber sounds. If MFLI were ever to become a movie I definitely would insist on this style of music in steampunk world. The above link is to the extended version of the Main Theme as the song was titled. Enjoy!

The Home Stretch

So, no update on Monday. Honestly, I did not update because at that point I hadn't written anything. Guild Wars 2 had been a bit of a distraction. That course has changed which is why i'm updating now. As of this morning  I have written 69,328 words, 22 chapters, 223 pages of what has been my most inspired piece of work to date. We are now entering the home stretch with just over 10,000 words left to reach my word count goal. Looks like number 23 will be the final chapter, which will bring the first book in the series to a close. Just in time too with Cold Days coming out in 19 days.
    This as you know is just the beginning of the Road to Luimere. The writing. Next in our adventure will be the completion of editing and allow a few friend of mine play the role of test reader. I believe that part may be trickier than actually writing the book. I have a rather impressive list of people looking forward to reading it. I think it's a really good, but I can't go own my own opinion as a writer is his own biggest fan and his worst critic. For all I know it's a big heap of cow dung.
    Following the beta reads we enter into revisions taking to heart the comments and suggestions of the readers to smooth out kinks and correct awkward wording. Then I torture my step mother one more time with editing. Next is deciding were I'm going to sell and what kind of formatting is required. Amazon is a given, but I'll want to look at the other places as well. Well that today's update as all ways Thanks for reading.

Today 's Sample will be from chapter 12 Marcus get a new suit from a Gnome Talior by the name of Richie.

I pulled off the highway and we made our way through the busy streets of Luimere. I found a parking spot in the small lot behind the boutique. I exited the steam-powered car and opened the back do to let Lucy out. She settled her hand in the hook of my bent arm and we walked around the front of the building.

     The front featured two large windows displaying complete garments. They were flashy and nothing I would personally wear but the craftsmanship was very impressive. We walked up to the door and Lucy knocked on it twice. An elderly gnome about three feet in height wearing gold jeweler's glasses answered the door. He wore a sky blue button down shirt with a vibrant purple bow tie. He wore ash gray and white pinstriped pants held up by purple suspenders and a black leather belt. He spoke in an accent I could not place.

“Miss Lucy it has been too long. Oh, you look so fabulous. I'm amazed this fits you so well. And look at this fine specimen of a man. Please both of you come inside.”

“It is good to see you, Richie.” Lucy said as we entered the Boutique. The two of them exchange quick kisses on each cheek.

“How has business been?”

“It has been well, The competition is fierce but I still have my wits about me. Needless to say your mechanical stilts put me on a level playing field.”

“That is good to hear. This is Marcus Moore. He is a close friend of mine and will be my guest for the Silverstein's event this evening.”

“Hello.” I said.

“And what a man. I don’t think I've seen eyes so golden before.” He clutched a small hand around my thigh and then my forearm. “Oooh, he's in shape too. Lucy you brought me a gem to work with.”

“Wait till you see him with his shirt off.” They both laughed wholeheartedly as we walked into the back of Richie's workshop.

     The room was perfectly circular. Along the walls were row and columns filled with roll of fabrics. There were racks covered with various leathers and Shelves filled with materials to make jewelry and accessories. In the center of the room was a raised pedestal about two feet in diameter. The light brown carpet was worn in tight circle around the pedestal.

“Now Marcus come with me. You will need to remove these garment for me to see the canvas I have to work with.”

     Richie took me by the hand and lead me over to the raised pedestal. I reluctantly removed my clothing save my underwear. Richie folded each piece respectfully and placed them on an empty shelf. He and Lucy stood next to one another and stared. Richie then tapped a button on the floor next to him and the pedestal began to slowly rotate.

    

“Lucy, He has the body of a God. The scars makes him all the more appealing. Are you certain he is not a present for me?”

“He belongs to no one, Richie. However I’d be lying if I said I have not enjoy his company.”

“Um. I am standing here.” I said.

Happy Halloween!!!

This is defiantly my favorite holiday. Sadly, this year I had to work instead of taking my three year old through the chilled chicagoland streets, raiding for candy. Work at least gets into the spirit and provide food, drink and costume contest. I went with the second of my two steampunk suits, Not costumes, suits .This was hand tailored by my lovely wife. Still piecing the accessories together i want to make a replica of Marcus's gun "Lucy" and the gun belt. I did tie for third place in the contest and made a little extra cash. Yay! caffeine money. Looks like somebody can stay up late and get a bit closer to finishing this book.

Not wanting to give too much of the book away before its done I've decided to give my lovely readers another sample from the "Violet Eclipse". Violet Eclipse is a high fantasy novel that I intend on breaking into two parts and releasing as novellas after I complete book one of the Moore for Less Investigations series.

Unedited Sample from the Violet Eclipse.

Prologue

Sparks sent shooting stars across the starlit sky. Thunder clapped and lighting crackled in the swelling clouds each time their blades met. Their forms were flawless and their instincts were pure. Each move was a strike and a parry, a strike and a parry. The oceans rose into tidal waves and drowned the surrounding lands.

With each impact the ground quaked and volcanoes erupted. The currents of the winds and sea flowed in confused directions. Neither being relented neither showed any sign of weakness. Sitting on a cloud nearby, a single watcher witnessed the duel.

Tears fell from her face causing monsoons as each drop met land, her silent cries unheard over the clash of celestial steel. The two beings pressed hard into one another. New valleys and mountains rose and fell with each step they took. While destroying civilizations and cultures of their own making.

Karasan and Daskan were brothers of Celes, powerful beings of space and time. They were what this world considered deities. Karasan stood tall in luminescent armor of celestial silver; his golden hair pulled into a long braid down his back. His features were long, smooth, and without flaw, his eyes glittered as if filled with stars.

Daskan was equally tall, dressed in armor of celestial onyx. Like his twin his features were long, smooth, and flawless, his hair a perfect black with a sheen that reflected the light of the stars, his eyes were swirling pools of black holes.

Each of them held in their hands an Aszan Star, matching blades created the day they were born. Seamless long swords crafted by the Elemental Smiths of the sun. Once not long ago the two loved and cared for each other deeply and equally cared for those they now destroy without thought or consequence.

Karasan parried Daskan's strike high and let the blade slide down his own. With his left gauntlet covered hand he struck Daskan in the jaw.

“You slipped, brother” Karasan smirked.

“You will not defeat me Karasan, Alanna will be free of you as will I.”

“Daskan, she is with me by her own accord. I did not force her hand. She is not a prisoner with me. You have gone mad.”

“The only one mad is you, brother.”

The blades clashed once again and the elements reeled. The power of the two crashed like ocean waves, Daskan deflected Karasan's blade and swiped his Aszan Star across the breastplate of his brother’s armor.

Karasan took a retreating step and resolved to a defensive stance. Daskan rushed with a descending blow, Karasan parried high and drove the blade down to the ground. He shifted his weight and brought the false edge of his blade up toward Daskan’s head.

Daskan took a step back, and pulled his blade above his right shoulder defending his crown from the blow. He then rolled the blade around to strike Karasan’s right temple. Karasan saw the incoming attack; he stepped off to the left raising his blade, and parried Daskan’s strike once again.

Releasing his sword with his left hand Karasan wrapped his arm serpent like around Daskan’s right arm. Daskan’s sword falls to the ground.

“I’m sorry, my brother” Karasan whispered.

Karasan pulled Daskan’s grappled arm toward him and plunged his Aszan Star into Daskan’s midsection. Daskan’s divine blood spilled across the ruined land mass. The blood saturated all the lands with his essence and power.

His body fell backward toward the ground with the speed of a comet falling from the heavens. The impact caused vast mountains to rise and cradle around his body. Alanna descended from her cloud still crying. Her tears flooded the land beneath her mixing her essence with Daskan’s blood. She knelled over him as he took his dying breath.

“I’m sorry, dear sweet Daskan. I never wanted this to happen. You two were never to know. Please forgive me. Please...”

Rivers of tears flowed from Alanna's cheeks and cascaded over Daskan's fallen form. For a moment time froze as Karasan knelled beside Alanna. He reached over and picked a few of her frozen tears from the air.

“We will honor you with these my brother. May our story have a happier ending the next time around?”

Karasan placed the now crystallized tears within the pommel of his sword that still rested in Daskan’s midsection. Karasan fused the gems with the sword and his will. As Alanna rose to leave, Daskan reached out grabbing her hand. The black holes that formed Daskan's eyes strained with anguish and pain.

In a struggled raspy breathless voice he whispered. “Death is but a beginning, life is but an end. Remember this feeling, till we love again.”

Karasan recovered Daskan’s Aszan Star and grabbed Alanna by the arm. “We must flee this place. The others know it was fated, but will not look kindly to the cause. We will have to find another world for you and I.”

Karasan and Alanna rose through the sky and flew off into the depths of space. They have been never seen or worshiped in these lands. Daskan however has never been forgotten. Thousands of years passed and what remained of Daskan’s body has becomes one with the land. The onyx of his armor strengthened the land, the meat of his flesh made it fertile, and the blood from his veins gave it life.

Before long new beings, creatures, and plant life emerged from the mass that once was the body of Daskan. Thousands more years went by and these species developed new cultures and new civilizations. These beings discovered Daskan’s gift, the gift of magic to the world. Before long these beings began to use what they found on one another. And began the rise and fall of great civilizations, entire cites lost, people slain, the story of Karasan and Daskan over and over again.

     The Bard Fargal stepped off the stage, in the tavern known as the Eagle’s Pride. A posh place in the noble quarter of Daskan’s Hold grandest city in all of Daskan’s Fall. In this same tavern sat Kritis, a sword master from the land far to the west known as Trismorm. At his side sat Elenoren, a magic sword believed to be fashioned from the Onyx of Daskan.

A slender but strong man Kritis stood at about six heads high with a traveler’s complexion. His hair was a rich brown like that of chocolate and fell haphazardly to his shoulders. His eyes were narrow, colored shades of hazel with flecks of green in them. He wore armor made of layered soft leather dyed in shades of dark blues and browns. Hidden beneath the leather he wore a shirt of fine dwarf- made mail. He word hardened leather bracer back by steel plate fashion with the crest of sword pointed up surrounded by a wreath.

A voice from the direction of the sword spoke aloud to Kritis.

“She’s not going to show you know. It’s too risky.” The sword proclaimed from her scabbard.

“She hired me, if she thought it was too dangerous she would have chosen a different place.” Kritis replied in an low near whisper.

“I’m telling you Kritis, something is off about this job. Why would someone steal some documents from a noble house and leave the jewels on the dresser.”

“I know not the thoughts of a thief, I simply found said thief and recovered the documents.”

As those words crossed Kritis’s lips, six burly men entered the tavern followed by a tiny yet quite attractive woman. Her eyes scanned the room briefly, and then locked on Kritis. She motioned her brawny escort toward.

“Nothing to worry about you said.” mocked Elenoren.

“This bloody city, does no one know how to keep a contract.” Kritis grumbled with a curse.

The noble walked with the presents of one of her station haughty, arrogant and snooty. Her eyes were the color of sapphires set above high cheeks. She would have had what were considered luscious lips had they not been pressed in a thin line.

The noble and her entourage strode without deviations directly to Kritis’s table. She stopped abruptly a few feet from the table and turned up her nose. Her escort positioned themselves in a semi-circle around the table.

Meilina of house Kardasha looked Kritis in his hazel green eyes, A barely five feet tall she barely stood at eye level with Kritis seated. She outstretched her hand before him and demanded with a silky voice.

“I believe you have something that belongs to my family.”

“That depends on whether or not you have the agreed upon payment, my lady.”

“I assumed you would have figured already that these men are here to recover the documents from you.” Meilina gestured toward her escort with a grim smirk.

The other patrons in the tavern took to notice the conversation and rising tension. They began making their way to the door or the far corners of the room. It did not take a scholar to deduce that a fight was about to break out.

The bruisers spread themselves around the table drawing their sheathed broad swords. Meilina’s men were built like that of large cargo workers from the air docks. Back alley brawlers the lot of them each is wore thick heavy leather jerkins underneath tunics carrying the seal of house Kardasha.

“My Lady, this would have been far easier if you had of paid my fee.” Kritis said reluctantly with a sigh.

While reaching for Elenoren, Kritis kicked the table in front of him. Which sent it slamming rather hard into the knees of two of his would be assailants. With the same motion he propelled himself backward and rolled from his chair to his feet with Elenoren drawn.

Her black blade rang with the sound of cracking ice. A frosty mist emitted from her black surface as Kritis set her in a low guard blade pointing to the floor held front and center of his body.

“So, what’s the plan love?” Elenoren asked. 

“Well, I was thinking we deal with the brutes. Then renegotiate the terms our contract.” Kritis answered.

The nearest two attackers lunged forward swiping wildly with broad swords that looked like long knife’s in their hands. Kritis brought Elenoren to parry one while he side stepped the other. The latter’s blade sailed pass Kritis and found itself wedge in a nearby chair. Frost kisses the blade of the parried sword and is followed by the sound of a sharp snap. The blade of the thug’s sword broke from the impact and flew wildly into the tavern bar with a thud.

Kritis firmly planted a knee in to the broken swordsman’s gut and shoved him into the tough that continued to struggle with his trapped sword. The two brutes tumbled of over with a thunderous crash smashing the chair and a nearby table. With swift fluid movements Kritis danced Elenoren in and the around six men. He proceeded to repeatedly knock them down each time they returned to their feet.

“Are we not killing them? Elenoren asked.

“Trying not to, Elen. We are in a noble’s bar having a sword fight with a noble’s hired hands. Killing them could get me put in Gladia.” Kritis responded as he struck one of the thugs for the third time with the pummel of Elenoren.

A look of disbelief and worry marred the pretty face of Meilina. Kritis took a coy posture and laid Elenoren to rest on his shoulder. As he stood there triumphant over the noble lady’s battered and mostly unconscious escort Elenoren hummed a soft melody in his ear. Kritis reached down and recovered his now empty mug from the floor a shook his head.

“Now, my lady, about my fee. We agreed upon 3000 gold sigil for the recovery of your documents. I have since had to fight a rather wildly rogue, deal with an insane sage and now beat your men senseless.”

“Don’t forget spilling your drink, Kritis.” Elenoren chimes in between chords.

“And cause me to spill a rather tasty drink. If you would now pay me, I would like to be on my way.”

“Well. Um I don’t have the 3000 gold sigil. This whole thing is off the record. My father would never allow me to waste that kind of money.” she replied.

Kritis walked over to the bar, his back turned to Meilina. He reached into the black leather pouch on his belt. He withdrew a number of coins and stacked them on the bar. He pointed a finger at the tavern owner, and then pointed to the stacks of two hundred gold sigil. The barkeep nodded at Kritis in understanding.

“Lady Meilina, It sounds like I am having this conversation with the wrong person. I am not a bad man, nor a man without understanding. I am however a man who would like to be paid for services rendered.” Kritis walked to the door placing Elenoren in her scabbard on his left hip.

Fury flashed across her face, but suddenly cooled as Kritis opened the door. A small smirk kissed the right corner of her lips. Kritis turned to see ten of the City Watch in a semi-circle around the door, crossbows trained on him. The noble’s quarter Watch Warden stepped forward holding up a warrant for Kritis.

“Kritis Melda of Trismorn, under warrant signed by the High Chancellor, by the Authority of the Grand King I, Watch Warden Nien place you under arrest for robbery and blackmail of a noble house.” the Watch Warden spoke loud enough for the whole tavern to hear.

“Well, I did not think she was that clever.”

“Kritis, how many times have I told you not to trust a pretty face?”

“We are not getting out of this one, Elenoren”

“I am afraid not, my love.”

“Remove your weapons and step forward.” commanded the Watch Warden.

Kritis took in his time and removed weaponry one by one and staked them on the ground before him. Several hidden daggers, throwing knives, an enchanted amulet, and a small single handed crossbow clattered to the stone road. Lastly, he drew Elenoren from her scabbard with a flourish that made the watchmen shift their weight nervously. He followed this motion with laying Elenoren's black blade flat across his palms.

“We are bound in life and death. We are bound in blade and flesh.” Kritis and Elenoren chanted the words together.

Kritis released the blade and allowed Elenoren to fall to the ground. The swords dark blade morphed into a bolt of black light as black as night just before striking the ground. With a flash Elenoren arced and streaked in the air circling around Kritis like black lighting. The guards stared wearily unsure if they should press and attack or seek cover. Elenoren circled Kritis once more, than with another burst of dark energy the bolt transformed into the form of beautiful Elf maiden in the nude.

Elenoren in her spirit form embraced Kritis with a passionate kiss, then melded into his body. Markings of a black tattoo streaked up the right side of Kritis’s neck and across his right cheek etching his skin in an archaic design. Kritis collapsed to the ground as if life had been sucked from him.

Friends

So WOW! I just had a long time friend, hell he was my best man at my wedding, completely go off on me cause I didn't do what he told me to do with my cover. That's right not suggested, not constructive criticism. He flat out said your doing it wrong you need to do it like this. And when I didn't, he tells me off saying that he doesn't think he can support my book. I haven't been this mad since high school commercial design class. Everyone is entitled to there opinion, and constructive criticism and suggestions are appreciated, but at the end of the day it is my art, my vision. This "friend" Has since block me from Facebook saying if I ever stop listening to all the people that like the cover to let him know. I'm baffled. I mean seriously! I've seen covers that are just an emblem and words or a Photograph and words. (Deep Breath) I was going to work on the book today, but i'm so pissed I'm afraid it will come out poorly. To that "friend" of mine. Good luck on your future endeavors, continue to make amazing art as I know you will. And when you get over yourself. Consider contacting me. I shall continue to gain support for my body of work with or without you. Sorry for the rant people. I'll give you guys another sample from the book to make up for it.


Teaser from Chapter 3.

I heard the pressurized steam release just as the charged fist sent me face first into the door. The door splintered from the impact and I felt blood run down my forehead. Lucy fell to the floor from my limb hand as I sank to my knees dazed.

I came to my senses just as an oversized orc boot came rocketing at my face. I crossed my arms in the shape of an x and lunged forward. I caught the orc just below his ankle and launched his four hundred pounds of green muscle across the sparse room.

He recovered far too quickly for an individual his size. With a practiced roll he returned to his feet without preamble. He adjusted the steam powered arm attachment then snarled as he took a brawlers stance. I looked for Lucy. Apparently the gun had been knocked across the room with the orc.

And how did I miss the scent of an orc. Even the best groomed of them have a distinctive aroma. Another time I told myself first things first. The orc stood at right around seven feet tall. Built like a dockworker and a boxer’s love child. He wore a white button down shirt with a maroon vest. He had on tan pants with brown leather knee pads and brown leather boots.

I’m rather strong when I need to be. But strength is not everything in a fight. Knowing how to fight your opponent and knowing your surroundings can be the difference from walking away from a fight and being carried away. I took a guarded stance and took in my surrounding.

The facts; fact one the orc is not a random brute. He took a fighters stance after being took down instead of berserker charging. This meant he was a trained professional sent here for a purpose. Fact two the orc struck me instead of shooting me. This meant he was here to take someone alive. Fact three my back was to the door and there was still that figure crouched in the hallway under some kind of veil.

Behind the orc I noticed the large window. Three floors weren’t enough to kill him, but I hoped it would be a big enough deterrent. The steam hissed from his powered glove from the small vent just above his right elbow. I stepped off to the right my arms bent at the elbow out in front of me.

At the instant the orc’s fist passed me I clasped hard on his right wrist. I shifted my weight pulled hard on the wrist and shoved on the back of his elbow. The momentum slammed the orc into and through the door. But he did not fall. I circled around so that I was standing in front of the window.

The orc turned around rage and blood lust in his beady black eyes. He charged forward with a fury of blows. I dodge the bulk of them and blocked the rest. He was fast just not as fast as I was. I hunched and got inside his long reach. I hammered a few hard shots to his body and an uppercut to his chin.

The orc was knocked back a few steps. “Owww!” I said shaking my hand. I admit I can punch through bricks when I need to. Punching that orc was like punching a steel girder. The strikes however did have the desired effect. The orc finally lost it and charged with reckless abandon.

He lunged at me again with both hands outstretch. Still standing in front of the window I fell to my back while grabbing the orcs wrists. I planted my feet squarely in his mid-section and heaved with all of my might. The orc vacated the premises to the sound of shattered glass and splintered wood. Moments later I her a loud thud and the sound of bones breaking.

I rolled over and picked up Lucy from the rubble of what I think was a coffee table. I stood up and caught a quick look at the room. The place was simple near empty and aside from the scuffle mess was immaculately clean. Too clean like the room had never been lived in.

I walked into the bedroom to find the single bed perfectly made. The closet was filled with pressed clothes that smell like then were still hanging on the rack in a store somewhere. There were no personal articles to be found anywhere. I walked back in to the main room.

The sounds of several clicks of hammers being locked into place came from the hole that once was the door.

Been getting a lot of likes on the cover. I believe I'm going to go with this font. Any way back to writing.

The Cover

So my writing took a little break while I worked out an idea for a cover. I wanted to do a Art Deco style cover as I mentioned in an earlier post. This is not the final as I'm still on the wall about the font and color. I really like the font over all, but I'm not sure it will work as a thumbnail. Anyway I can now return to writing and get that 20,000 words knocked out. Also for you facebookers out there started a facebook page for my writer persona. Swing by give the page a Like. https://www.facebook.com/MarcelAlexanderII

Awesomeness

http://www.forgottenhollywood.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/sherlock.jpg

So this morning while talking with my lovely wife I got an idea for a Art Deco style cover for my book. So like a good artist I went to the internets looking for reference material. I found the above image and had to share because it was awesome. Simple and sweet.

As far as the cover I have done a thumbnail and will start work on the pencils soon. I plan on finishing the book first though the Muse has been very fickle lately. I'm not entirely sure which thing she will let me work on. Yes, I refer to the Muse as a entity that controls my creativity moods and ability. Don't Judge Me! :P Lol I kid.
 

A writer's mind

   A fellow writer posted a meme on their Facebook the other day. " Writers will escape into their on world at any given time without notice." In recent days with the ever growing frustration of my day to day work life, I find myself needing to escape. Some people escape into drugs or alcohol,  myself I escape into my head. The world of Luimere has pretty much taken over, though it is one of four worlds floating around in there.
   As a gamer nerd (that's tabletop RPG, not video games, Though I'm that kind of nerd as well) I spend more time as a Gm than I do as a player. I have crafted high fantasy world riddled with turmoul then dumped unsupecting heroes into the middle of it.  Ages ago I began using the stories I took my players through as the frame work for novels. In truth Moore For Less Investigations:  The Kid is the first story that was purely from my head. It is also far closer to completion than any of my older works.
    Speaking of Roleplaying Games, I began the ground work for Luimere the Steampunk rpg this week.
I'm using the base mechanics from dungeon and dragons 4th addition, but i'm crafting my own skills system. The idea is to force more roleplay of out of players. The game is quite a way away from even alpha testing as i have to build each class with a variety of powers for twenty levels. I'll add progress on the game as i move forward.

Today's Progress report.
Word Count: 60231/80000
Page Count: 193
Chapters: 20

To Change thing up a bit todays sample is from my unfinshed novel "The Violet Eclipse".
This is completely unedited so please forgive the poor grammer and the misspelled words. I'm considering making this a two part novella after i finsh book 1 of Moore For Less Investigation.  

Chapter 1

Gladia

Kritis side stepped the incoming spear point. In one fluid motion he wrapped his arm around the spear’s shaft. With a jerk and twist of his hips he pulled his attacker onto his blade. Blood surged from the slained man back as the point thrust through it. The crowds of Gladia burst into a wild cheer in reaction to the brutal display. Kritis kicked his opponent away from him and took a brief moment to survey his surroundings.

Gladia was a large arena and a prison combined as one. The arena stood a quarter of a mile in length and nearly half as wide. The inner walls stood a good thirty feet high, circling the arena floor in an oval shape. The arena floor this day was not your typical blood stained sand but the difficult terrain of a drying riverbed. The terrain was rough and rather hazardous one hurried miscalculated move and you could find your foot stuck in unforgiving mud. All things considered still more favorable than other possible settings. The Grand King had mages specifically for altering the arena’s battlefield.

“You have two behind us dealing with the giant fire ant and one other wielding a sword in each hand coming from the right.” Elenoren whispered.

“Thank you Elen, let’s take care of the fool with the dual blades. If we are lucky the other two will manage to kill the fire ant.” Kritis replied as he turned to face his next attacker.

Kritis positioned himself in an inviting stance with his blade held low and behind him. From his attackers view point the blade was invisible. The muscular man charged Kritis with a vicious dual blade swipe a driving the blades down rapidly at Kritis’s head. Kritis waited, the surge of the crowd swelled as the blades grew closer. At the last moment possible Kritis quickly stepped off to the right bringing his hand up and around his body. He plowed his blade firmly into the brute’s head completely clear of the man vicious strike. Head split in two the gladiator fell to the ground blood drained rapidly into the dried dirt and mud.

A scream from behind Kritis informed him that the elven female had fallen to the fire ant. The tiger half man was holding his own if only barely. The hulking body of the insect appeared unmarked to Kritis’s eye. He sighed as he looked around for options.

“Suggestions, Elenoren?” He asked the tattoo on his body that was once his sword.

“I suppose, waiting and see what happens isn’t an option?” she replied jokingly.

“Elen!”

“Fine, fine this would be far easier if you were wielding me. Grab the spear you disarmed a second ago. The Ant is weakest from behind, aim for the base of its neck.”

Kritis moved quickly grabbing up the spear without missing a step. His muscles flexed and strained as he gained more speed. He calculated the steps needed to reach the creature, As well what foot he must land on to achieve maximum height and distance with his leap. Kritis planted his right foot on what he judged to be a sound bit of ground and vaulted on to the back of the giant ant. The monstrous creature vomited hot molten rock at the half-man. Who by Kritis’s surprise managed to roll clear of blast of smoldering rock.

The beast began to buck and thrash in attempts to remove Kritis from its chitinous backside. Still, using the skill learned from many sword fights atop balancing beams and pole shafts Kritis remained aloft. Timing his blow with the moment of a descending buck Kritis drove the foot and a half long spear head through the neck of the giant fire ant. He rolled backward off the back of the creature as molten rock erupted from the wound. The crowd roared again and began to chant his name. The sound of Kritis’s name had been a common occurrence these last few months in Gladia. Kritis did not pay the chants much mind. He instead found his hands on the long sword the elf girl was wielding.

Kritis planted his left foot forward and his right behind. He placed his hands were at rest just about his belt holding the handle of the sword. The flat of the blade pointed toward the half-man the point of sword toward the ground. Kritis stood prepared for his final opponent for the day. Kritis did not know the half-man nor did he care too. In fact his only care was to one day earn his freedom, his care and Elenoren’s.

“Half-men are tricky ones Kritis, It appears he has not altered form either. He may have been saving it for the final battle with the Fire Ant.”

“Must have, none of us thought they would release it on us while we were fighting.” He and the half man circled one another. As they paced and judged one another the Half-man’s features began to become more feline.

“Well love, unless you intend on facing a feral half-man I suggest you press an offensive before he completes the transition.” Elenoren recommended.

“I must let him.”

“Are you mad?  His strength and speed will double and will be as refreshed as a new day.”

The half-man’s body bulked with the expansion of his muscles the black stripes on his bare skin became more defined.

“I have to be impressive, the Daskan festival nears. Those chosen to fight the final battle are given a pardon of their crimes.” Kritis explained.

“If they survive, this I know. But fighting a fully feral half-man is ill advised, Kritis.”

“Have faith dear Elenoren, he’s just a big cat” he insisted with a smirk.

The half-man stopped his pacing. He stood two feet taller than he had before. The claws on his hand extended nearly six inches from his fingertips. His muscles rippled with each heavy breath he took. Kritis stared into the golden cat-like eyes with a hearty smile. The half-man growled deeply and charged. The half- man was fast, so fast in fact that if Kritis had been a second slower he would not have survived the first exchange.

Kritis parried the claw high and swept the half man’s feet from beneath him. The half man caught himself with hands and instantly mule kicked at Kritis. The blow struck true and sent Kritis sailing through the air. Kritis landed about twelve feet from where he stood. Blood pours from a nasty gash on his left shoulder.

“Told you to insist on pauldron’s” Elenoren bickered.

“This is most defiantly not the right time, Elen.” He snapped back.

The black tattoo on his chest, right shoulder, neck and right cheek let out a warm laugh.

The half-man pressed another attack his arms became a blazing fury of lashing claws. Elenoren began to hum a melody. As he parried and dodged the blows he fell in sync with the tune. “Sword of Aquaina” it was called. Kritis’s blade began to flow as the water would. Kristis’s movement synchronized in time with the furious half-man’s strikes. Kritis side stepped followed with a parry. He then shuffles forward and to the left pushing the elbow of the gladiator. Kritis changed the flow of the dance. The half-man swiped the right clawed hand to be followed by the left one. However, before the right hand completed its slash at him. Kritis, stepped to the outside of the man-beast flicking the blade point upward cleanly slashing the half-man’s wrist. The Half-man reels back gripping the open wound.

Without hesitation Kritis followed the attack with another slashing deeply across the man- beast’s bare chest. The blood spilled rapidly from the gaping wound as Kritis finished the encounter with a final thrust through the half-man’s chest. Silenced rang throughout the arena as this exchange happen within the span of a few seconds. The half-man’s body hit the ground with a solid thud followed by the chanting crowd. The masses leapt for joy screaming loudly and in unison Kritis’s name.

Kritis the Blade! Kritis the Blade! The mob screamed.

“Well, give them what they want, Love” insisted Elenoren.

Kritis threw his unwounded arm high with a victorious shout. He felt no pride or joy in the victory, but he was well aware of the basic rules. Win the crowd and you win the grand kings favor .The crowd shouted even louder jumping, screaming, and near rioting. Kritis raised his head to the high dais were the Grand King and his High Chancellor sat. The Grand King was built like a warrior though his face was weathered with age and his sculpted muscles rippled beneath his royal robes. He had white hair cut shoulder length and a beard cut close to his face. The king stood from his throne and made eye contact with Kritis giving him an approving nod.  Kritis bowed his head and walked to the main gate to the Underdepths.