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. 

    

She's Back!

My other woman "the Muse"  returned to me last week. I tell you, I was jumping for joy. The fire is not burning a brightly as the initial spark, but it burns again. I am currently sitting at 53080 words, 167 pages , 17 chapters. My step mother has gotten through the first 12 chapters for the first round of editing.

 I have given myself til November 27 to complete the first draft. That's when "Cold Days" book 13 of the Dresden Files by Jim butcher is released. Jim Butcher is currently my favorite author and may or may not have had a major influence on my writing style. I've been getting good feedback from the first chapter i posted and the samples. I even got yelled at by my mother in law demanding more. That put a big smile on my face and boosted my confidence. Stay turned my few and new followers there more to come.

Today's Sample is from Chapter 3. Moore for Less Investigations:The Kid.

The address on the paper led me to a seven story building at the end on the street. I crossed the small yard and checked the door. Luckily it was unlocked, I’d rather not have to break in or draw attention to myself.

I found the stairs and casually made my way to the third floor apartment B.I sniffed the air as entered the hallway. I could make the smells of tenant A’s dinner being burned chicken rices and broccoli. I could smell the scent of fresh cleaner coming from tenant C. From the nanny’s apartment I got nothing. That troubled me.

I checked the door. It was locked. I checked the hall left and right then applied a little strength as I turned the knob. I listened to the bolts break under the strain of the force I applied. I checked the hall once more. Something was really bugging me. I sniffed the air once more there was a faint familiar odor in the air. It was masked, muted but familiar.

I tapped a button on the strap of my goggles. The little gears turned and the lens changed to a shade of green. Lucy had enchanted the lenses for different purposes. Through the green lens I can actually see the unseen. I can see the gases in the air, the ghost in the shadows, and the monster in the closet. I looked around the hall once more.

And there it was, a figure crouched in the corner at the end of the hall. It sat there completely motionless absolutely silent. I didn’t allow my eyes to settle on the figure. I just looked around the hall then quickly opened the door. I rushed inside not taking in any of my surroundings. Only concerned with what was behind me.

I shut the door behind me took two steps back and drew Lucy. I rapidly popped the wheel ejected the rounds and loaded the inferno rounds. The bullets rattled on the hard wood floor. I cocked the hammer back and aim at the door. The twin vials of liquid bubbled as the gun rapidly heated up. I was ready to feed whatever that figure was a ball a fire from the mouth of a dragon.

That’s when the orc that had been waiting in the room sucker punched me in the back of the head.

Getting it out of my system

Thought I'd post this one too. I'm getting the drawing out of my system. The idea is that the writing inspiration will come back. Above we have a Marcus, Lucy, Tanis (has not been mentioned yet.), Arlena and my favorite scene I've written so far. I'm likely going to the line work in vectors do some shadows and throw sepia over the whole thing.

My brain

So my brain is funny. I can usually use only one talent at a time. Since I hit a writing wall I grabbed my pencil to see if I could draw again. Sure enough my brain has switched to sketch mode. This is a rough sketch of how I see Marcus Moore. Tell me what you guys think.

The Wall

Well folks it was bound to happen. We are some where around weeks since i started this book and I've it a wall. Not necessarily a writer's block, but a wall of uncertainty. I've consulted a few others and I know where I'm going. I just not sure if I like what little I've written lately. Current word count 50988, halfway through chapter 16, around 147 pages. I have given myself till just before the release of the next Dresden Files book releases. So November 27. Jim Butcher is already a heavy influence on my writing style. I have to repeatedly ask my wife to make sure it isn't to much like him. Hopefully my mistress the Muse returns soon and rekindles the fire. I think i might shift gears for a little bit and do some sketch art of the main characters. stay tuned.

Pre edit teaser- Brill

I picked the bench that first met Brill on. I had tracked down a jewel thief to a street vendor that would sell noodles from a portable cart in this park. I was sitting at this bench watching my target when she happened to sit next to me.

She was tall at lest six foot four in the low heels she wore. She wore a dark purple dress with black lace frills for trim around the sleeves and bottom of the dress. She wore a Black corset the pushed up her bust quite pleasantly. Her hair was fashioned in puffy curls with a black and purple feather headdress. Over all the ensemble went well with the with her vibrant green skin color and surprisingly her rather defined muscles did not take away but enhanced the appeal.

We made small talk while I kept my eye on the noodle vender. She told me how she like coming to Founders Park cause of the contrast to orc country. She spoke of how she was surprised that she was not looked down upon or mistreated as she had expected her first time out.

At some point she asked what I did for a living. That was when the thief went to make the exchange. I hopped up told her it was a pleasure and ran after the buyer. He sprinted toward me and dashed under my grasping arms. He was a spry little elf. He bolted toward where I had been sitting with Brill.

She stood from the bench and I remember seeing a small smirk on her violet painted lips. She outstretched her right arm as the buyer was running passed her. Imagine it must have been like running into a steel girder. She did not flinch but the runner spun a full three rotations in the air before land poorly on his back.

I recovered the stolen item and extend my arm insisting she walk with me. We went on our first date that very day. My little way down memory lane faded with a nudge in my side.




“I like the beard, sweetie. It suits you well.” Brill said.

The Muse

So, "Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid" isn't exactly my first novel. About six weeks ago I was working on my first project "The Violet Eclipse." It's a high fantasy story involving a sword master and his talking magic sword trying to save the world from being over run by demons. I had been slowing writing the book while running the story as a D and D campaign. So about six weeks ago was finally got some real inspiration and was writing regularly. I got to the 10th chapter, 91 pages,  31 thousand words when the muse showed up. The muse took her two handed inspiration mallet and whacked me on the head. I was like "That would be cool" so i jotted down some note and put it on the side. The idea however had different plans. It would not let me be. So,  here we are  six weeks later, 50615 words, 16 chapters, 147 pages. In addition I have the synopses for book 2, 2 short stories, and working on the concept of a tabletop RPG. The Muse is a powerful force. Anywho for today's sample let's meet Lucy.

Pre-edit Teaser. Moore for Less Investigations: The Kid

Lucy walked out of the mist waving a hand. She stood at about four feet two inches tall. She was slender, curvy and athletic all at the same time. Her skin was somewhere between a light hazel and cream.

She was gifted with the larger that average eyes of the gnome, almond shaped and tilted downwards like the elves. They were the color of aquamarine. These of course appeared even larger behind the magnified lenses of her goggles. She had a cute button nose and a small mouth on a round face. Her strawberry blonde hair was dyed blue at the tips and pulled back into a long tail. To complete the package Lucy had a pair of tall pointed ears piece with several dangling ears rings made of random gears.

She was wearing a mechanic’s jumpsuit with top tied off around her waist. She wore a stained blue blouse that tucked into the bottom half of her jumpsuit. Strapped to her arms was a pair of black power gauntlets. Similar in style the one worn by both Franis the bouncer and the orc that attacked me at the nanny's apartment. I had seen more that my fair share of those today I thought to myself. Lucy's were not designed for fisticuffs but to allow her to work with heavy machinery.

“Marcus Moore! How many times have I told you to vent your steam before you pull into the garage?” she yelled.