Barrick is lost behind the Shadowline, facing all the terrible dangers and mysteries of that magical twilight land. Briony is alone in a treacherous foreign court, struggling to survive with no weapon left to her but her wits. And in the midst of all this, something unbelievable is awakening underneath Southmarch, something powerful and terrible that the world has not seen for thousands of years.

In this third volume Barrick and Briony, along with Qinnitan – the Autarch’s desperate, escaped slave – a loyal soldier named Ferras Vansen, and a tiny handful of other folk, ordinary and extraordinary, must find a way to save their world, or else witness the rise of a terrible new age – an age of unending darkness.

Flames Rising has a short excerpt from this new novel by Tad Williams.

Shadowrise is available at Amazon.com.

Shadowrise by Tad Williams

Briony would have been one of the first to admit that the throne room back in Southmarch might be dignified, even impressive, but it was not awesome. The ceiling was full of fine old carvings but they were hard to see in the dark chamber except on festival days when all the candles were set blazing. The ceiling itself was high, but only in comparison to most of the rest of the rooms – there were higher ceilings within many of the great houses of the March Kingdoms. And the colored windows that in her childhood had formed her strongest idea of heaven were not even as nice as those in the great Trigonate temple in the outer keep beyond the Raven’s Gate. Still, Briony had always thought that there could not be much difference between her home and the other royal palaces of Eion. Her father was a king, after all, and his father and grandfather had been kings before him — a line that went back generations. Surely the monarchs of Syan and Brenland and Perikal did not live much more grandly, she had thought. But since she had come to famous Broadhall Palace, Briony had quickly lost her illusions.

From the first hour of her capture, as the coach surrounded by a troop of soldiers had passed through the portcullis and gate and onto the palace grounds, she had begun to feel foolish. How could she have thought her family something other than rustic — the same sort of faded, countrified nobles that she and Barrick had found so amusing back home? And now she stood beside Jino in the throne room itself, the voluminous chamber which for centuries had been the heart of the entire continent, and which still was the capitol of one of the most powerful nations in the world, and her own witless pretension was a bone in her throat.

The Broadhall throne hall was vast, to begin with, the ceiling twice as lofty as that of Southmarch’s greatest temple, carved and painted in such wonderful, startling detail that it looked as though an entire population of Funderlings had worked on it for a century. (That was exactly what had happened, she found out later, although here in Syan they called their small people Kallikans.) Each brilliant window stained with sun-bright colors looked as big as the Basilisk Gate back home, and there were dozens of them, so that the huge room seemed to be crowned with rainbows. The floor was a swirling pattern of black and white marble squares, an intricate circular mosaic called Perin’s Eye — famous throughout the world, Erasmias Jino informed her as he led her across it. She followed him past the huge but empty throne and the company of armored knights in blue, red and gold who all stood solemnly against the throne room’s great walls, still and silent as statues.

“You must permit me to show you the gardens at some point,” the marquis told her. “The throne hall is very fine, of course, but the royal gardens are truly extraordinary.”

I take your point, fellow — this is what a true kingdom looks like. She kept her face cheerfully empty, but Jino’s high-handedness griped her. You do not think much of Southmarch or our small problems and you want to remind me what real grandeur and real power look like. Yes, I take your point. You think my family’s crown is no more impressive than the sham crown of wood and gold paint that I wore on the stage.

But the heart of a kingdom is not small just because the kingdom is, she thought.

Jino led her through a door at the back of the throne room, this one surrounded by a group of guards in different, although complementary, shades of blue and red to those lined along the walls of the throne room. “The King’s Cabinet,” said Jino, opening the door and gesturing for her to go in. A herald in a brilliant sky-blue tabard embroidered with Syan’s famous sword and flowering almond branch, asked her name and title, then stamped his gold-topped stick on the floor.

“Briony te Meriel te Krisanthe M’Connord Eddon, princess regent of the March Kingdoms,” he announced, as casually as if she were the fourth or fifth princess who’d come through the door that day. For all Briony knew, she might have been: two or three dozen guards, servants, and beautifully dressed courtiers filled the richly-appointed room, and though many of them watched her entrance, few showed any signs of overwhelming interest.

“Ah, of course, Olin’s child!” said the bearded man on the high-backed couch, waving her forward. He was dressed in serious, dark clothes and his voice was deep and strong. “I see his face in yours. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Briony made her bows. Enander Karallios was the most powerful ruler in Eion and looked the part. He had gone a little to fat in recent years, but he was a big man and managed to carry it well. His hair was dark, almost black, with only a little gray, and his face, though rounded by age and weight, was still strong and impressive, brow high, eyes wide-set, his nose strong and sharp, so that it was still quite possible to see why as a younger man he had been considered a very dashing and handsome prince indeed. “Come, child, sit down. We are pleased to see you. Your father is dear to us.”

“Dear to all of Eion,” said the woman in the beautiful pearled gown beside him. This must be Ananka te Voa, Briony recognized, a powerful noblewoman in her own right, but also, and far more importantly, a mistress to kings. Briony was a little shocked to see her sitting at Enander’s side so openly. The king’s second wife had died some years ago, but the gossip Briony had heard among Makewell’s Men suggested that he had only taken up with this woman recently, after Ananka had left her old lover, Hesper, the king of Jael and Jellon.

Hesper the bloody-handed traitor…!

Briony, who had been in mid-courtesy, almost lost her balance as she thought of him. There were few men in the world Briony would have seen tortured, but Hesper was one of them. She couldn’t help wondering whether Ananka been at his side when Hesper had decided to imprison Briony’s father Olin and then sell him to Ludis Drakava? Looking at the woman’s sharp, hard eyes, it was easy enough to believe.

“You are both very kind,” Briony said, doing her best to keep her voice even. “My father has always spoken of you with the highest regard and love, King Enander.”

“And how is he? Have you had word from him?” Enander was toying with something in his lap and it distracted her. After a moment she saw the bright little eyes peering out from beneath his heavy velvet sleeve. It was a small animal, a tiny dog or a ferret.

“Some letters, yes, but not since I left Southmarch.” She couldn’t help wondering what the two of them were thinking. They acted as though this was any other audience — did they not know her situation? “Your majesty is doubtless aware that I left my home…well, let us say I did not go by choice. One of my subjects…no, one of my father’s subjects, Hendon Tolly, has traitorously seized the throne of the March Kingdoms. I suspect he murdered my older brother, as well as his own.” In truth, Kendrick’s death was the one crime she could not with certainty lay against Hendon Tolly, but he had admitted his role in his own brother Gailon’s death.

“Lord Tolly says differently, as you probably know,” said Enander, looking troubled. “We cannot take sides – not without knowing more. I’m sure you understand. Lord Tolly claims you ran away, that all he does is protect Olin’s remaining heir, the infant Alessandros. That is the boy’s name, is it not?” he asked Ananka
“Yes, Alessandros.” She turned back to Briony. “You poor child.” Ananka was handsome, but she used too much powder – it accentuated the lines of her thin face rather than hid them. Still, she was the kind of woman who had always made Briony feel like a clumsy, stupid little girl. “How you must have suffered. And we have heard such stories! Is it true Southmarch was attacked by the fairies?”

King Enander gave her an irritated look, perhaps because he did not want to be reminded of Syan’s old debt to Anglin’s line in the fairy-wars of the past.

“Yes, it is true, my lady,” Briony said. “And as far as I know, still true…”

“But we hear that you hid yourself among a company of peasants and escaped — walking all the way from Southmarch! How clever! How brave!”

“In truth, it was a company of players…ma’am.” Briony had learned how to swallow an angry reply, but it did not taste good. “And I was not escaping the siege, but my own treacherous…”

“Yes, we have heard – quite a story!” Enander cut her off before she could say more. It was not an accident. “But we have had only the barest bones – of course, you must flesh them out for us soon. Ah-ah,” he said, lifting his hand when she might have spoken again. “But no more talk now, my dear — you must be exhausted after your ordeal. Time enough for everything when you are feeling stronger. We will see you tonight at supper.”

She thanked him and made another courtesy. So, she wondered, am I a guest? Or a prisoner? It wasn’t entirely clear.

As Lord Jino led her out of the King’s Cabinet, Briony fought against anger and unhappiness. Enander had received her kindly and courteously, and so far the Syannese had treated her as well as she could have hoped. Had she expected that the king would stand up, declare undying loyalty to the blood of Anglin’s line, and immediately equip her with an army to go back and overthrow the Tollys? Of course not. But she also had the distinct feeling from the king’s mien that such a thing wasn’t only to be delayed, it was never going to happen at all.

Briony was so immersed in her thoughts that she nearly walked into a tall man coming across the throne room, headed toward the chamber she had just left. As she started back he reached out a strong hand to keep her upright.

“Apologies, Mistress,” he said. “Are you well?”

“Your royal Highness,” said Jino. “You are back before we looked for you.”

Briony straightened her clothes to cover her confusion. Royal Highness? Then this young man must be Eneas, the prince. She felt her breath getting a little short as she looked up. Was this truly the boy she had thought about so much during that year of her childhood? He was certainly as handsome as the prince she had imagined, tall and slender but wide-shouldered, with a tangled mass of black hair like a horse’s mane after a long, fast ride.

“There is much to tell,” the prince said. “I rode fast.” He looked at Briony, puzzled. “And who is this?”
“Highness, allow me to present Briony te Meriel te Krisanthe…” Jino began.

“Briony Eddon?” The prince interrupted him. “Are you truly Briony Eddon? Olin’s daughter? But what are you doing here?” Suddenly remembering his manners, he grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips, but his eyes never left her face.

“I will explain all later, Highness,” Jino said. “But your father will want to hear your news about the southern armies. Did everything go well?”

“No,” Eneas said. “No, it did not.” He turned back to Briony. “Are you dining with us tonight? Say yes.”
“Y—yes, of course.”

“Good. We will speak more then. It is astounding to see you here. I was just thinking about your father – I admire him greatly, you know. Is he well?” He did not wait for an answer. “Jino is right, I should go. But I look forward to our conversation later.” He took her hand, kissed it again, a mere brush of his dry, wind-chapped lips, but looked at her as though he meant to memorize her every feature. “I told them you would grow up a beauty,” he said. “I am proved right.”

Briony watched Eneas go, staring after him for several moments before she realized her mouth must be hanging open like that of some Dalesman sheepherder getting his first view of a real city. “What did he mean by that?” she said, half to herself. “He couldn’t have even known I existed!”

Jino was frowning a little, but he did his best to turn it into a smile. “Oh, but the prince would never lie, Highness, and certainly he would not stoop to flattery.” He gave a rueful laugh. “He means well, and he is of course a splendid young man, but in truth his courtly manners leave a bit to be desired.” He straightened and extended his arm. “Let me show you back to your rooms now, Princess. We all look forward to the honor of your company again at supper, but you really should rest after your terrifying journey.”
Briony’s own courtly manners might be a touch rustic by Syannese standards but she understood what Erasmias Jino was saying well enough: Please, child, get out from under my feet so I can see to more important business – the business of a true kingdom, not a backwater like yours.

It was another reminder that Briony was at best a distraction for these Syannese, but more likely an annoying problem. Either way, she had no power here, nor any friends she could count on. She let herself be led back across the gleaming, echoing throne room, through groups of staring courtiers and the more discreet but just as interested servants, already thinking about how that balance might be changed for the better.

* * *

This preview for was provided and published with express permission from DAW and Tad Williams.

Shadowrise is available at Amazon.com.

Available at Amazon.com

You should, by now, already know about Amanda Feral.(1) The celebutante zombie star of Happy Hour of the Damned and Road Trip of the Living Dead is back in action, returning to Seattle’s night-life scene, albeit with far less cash than she started with. Like the rest of the world, Amanda’s finances are on the rocks, and the only thing that looks like it will save her(2) from the bone-breaking threats of the reapers, to whom she’s indebted, is taking a role on a reality show. Amanda’s no actress, but playing herself to the camera is something she’s perfected. The problem is, she has to work opposite one Johnny Birch, a dirty wood nymph with sexual proclivities to make a yeti gasp. It’s no wonder someone wants him dead — Amanda wants to kill him within minutes of meeting him, after all — but it does put a hamper in the reality show when someone actually does murder the star. Far from being willing to give up, Amanda smells opportunity(3): make the show about solving the murder!

Amanda’s no detective, but her on-the-rocks boyfriend was a member of the police force before being turned into a werewolf. With his help, and the assistance of Wendy, Gil, and even Ethel (Amanda’s mother, if the word mother translates to antagonist-for-life), Amanda’s ready to crack the case wide open, and look good on camera doing it. And there are certainly plenty of excuses to check out the latest hot-spot openings in Seattle’s undead-scene that help with solving the murder. Right?

Where Road Trip of the Living Dead veered away from the Seattle celebrity scene that made Happy Hour of the Damned such a hook for the rest of the series, Battle of the Network Zombies throws readers right back into the world of zombies, vampires, windigo, fairies, ghosts, sirens, and other bizarre creatures of the night who are all just trying to make a living.(4) Mark Henry includes just as much snark as ever, and his send-up of reality television, both with Amanda’s show and the short TV Guide like blurbs for other programs at the beginning of each chapter, is dead-on. Better yet, while the novel pokes fun at the whole genre of television programming, it does so in an almost loving way — obviously, Henry has to have watched plenty of reality television to be able to lampoon it so well.

While we get a full on Agatha Christie style denouement as Amanda solves the case, we sadly don’t get the villain’s last monologue to explain why all the chaos happened in the first place. Happily the climax involves as much campy action as the movie Clue, so though I could have used a little additional filling in on why certain characters showed up at the conclusion, the end results are utterly satisfying. Even better, a long appendix at the end gives us a look at adolescent Amanda, just discovering how she can manipulate everyone around her, leading her to become the snarky bitch we all know and love. Amanda Feral and I would never be friends(5), and while she grows and develops as a character in Battle, she remains shallow, self-centered, and utterly hilarious to watch. Here’s to crossing my fingers that Amanda’s adventures will continue well after Battle of the Network Zombies!(6)

(As the reviewer, I received an e-ARC of this novel for free from the author. I’ve heard there have been some changes in the final version, so it is possible there are errors in my description.)

1) If not, why don’t you? You’ve had two years, people!
2) And her fabulous wardrobe.
3) Notably, opportunity smells better than the low-lives that make up most of Amanda’s meals.
4) Or eat the living. If they’re a good vintage.
5) You can find her at Myspace.com/amandaferal.
6) To help make sure Amanda gets further book contracts, consult the Save Amanda Feral campaign at www.markhenry.us.

Review by Alana Joli Abbott

Available at DriveThruHorror.com

Series written by Guido Henkel

I’ve not experienced “Dime Novels” before. I’ve never really even seen one before, although growing up my mother owned a “collector book” composed of several dime novel reprints that I once looked through. They’re a format that seems to have died out here in the union long ago. It looks like however, that the “Dime Novel” format could be on the verge of a comeback.

My dad happened upon a new gothic horror series while visiting one of his favorite websites and asked me to check it out. Following his queue I did a little homework and indeed I’d discovered a new book series titled “Jason Dark: Ghost Hunter”, a series written in the spirit of the “Dime Novel” format. This initiative brushed my interest with a fine tooth comb and I inquired further with Guido Henkel, the author of this series in progress. Guido turned out to be a really cool guy and was kind enough to send me the first two novels to read and review.

When they came in the mail, I was a little surprised by their physical size. They are about half the size of a comic book with a page count of only sixty four pages each. Again, I’ve not read nor ever held a true “Dime Novel” before, so this was a new experience all around. In a world of large and epic stories taking tons of space on your book shelf, can something this small be entertaining and enjoyable? Can the experience of such a short story be worthwhile? Are these “fun size” stories really fun to read? YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE IT FOLKS!

My first opportunity to sit down and read the first volume came while waiting for my wife, who was having surgery on her sinuses (she’s doing fine, thanks for asking). I had a few hours to kill in the waiting area, which made cracking open Volume I an ideal opportunity. What Jason Dark offers is a fast paced, action packed adventure that reads quickly. It’s not Shakespeare, it’s not Stephen King, nor is it an engrossing mind job of a horror story that mentally beats you violently and senselessly. But you know what? It didn’t have to be. It was just plain fun and easy reading, something that I found surprisingly satisfying!

I don’t recall the last time I was able to sit down to a book and get through it so quickly and have such a lax and fun time doing so! The adventures are told in a dramatic, fast paced and yet simplistic method and the pages just flew by. So my experiment with Volume II was to read it over my lunch hours at work. Its size allowed me to slip it into my back pocket, freeing a hand to allow carrying my drink and lunch bucket without juggling a book in the mix. I finished reading it over two sittings, and again it made for a smooth, fun and easy read. In a way it was a gratifying experience to be able to just read through them at my own pace and not have to worry about remembering all the details that a large and epic story that takes weeks to read over my lunch hours require.

Then I tried another experiment, I asked my daughter (who turns fifteen next week) to read the two volumes and let know what she thought of them. Guido’s method of telling a horror story (or perhaps its just the way of “The Dime Novel”) is to be direct and matter of fact in the violence and moments of horror. There is no lavishing on the gruesome and disgusting here, making it an ideal read in my opinion for teenage horror fans in training as much as they are for those who don’t enjoy the hardcore horror story. I’m happy to report that my suspicions were correct as my daughter, who’s really into “manga books” right now, was able to enjoy these tales as well.

And what of the protagonist, the “Geisterjäger” Jason Dark? What can I say, I dig this cat! Imagine a setting in the heart of Victorian England and an intellectual character in the vein of a Sherlock Holmes type of hero who hunts and confronts supernatural evil and you’ve got the idea. There are a lot of classic horror elements to these stories and the familiar backdrop makes getting in and out of such a quick story that much easier to enjoy. Volume I has him dealing with demons while Volume II brings on the vampires (in a more “Nosferatu” style of vamp no less). The city of London is depicted in surprising detail and there are some great cameo’s of both historical and literary significance from the time period sprinkled in as well. In short, they are quick stories, but they can offer features that you can discuss with other readers afterwards.

I’ve been enlightened to the world of “Dime Novels” just as much as I’ve been enlighten to the world of Jason Dark. I encourage you to pick up and enjoy these stories as I have, unless that is, your afraid of the dark. You can either purchase the ongoing series in paperback format by visiting JasonDarkSeries.com (free shipping no less) or you can collect them in e-book format by visiting DriveThruHorror.com. I happened to notice that the series made the “Staff Favorites” list on the front page of this site. It seems that I’m not the only one who’s been enjoying this new series.

Side Note: I had the opportunity to sit down and enjoy a phone conversation and interview with series author Guido Henkel. Keep an eye out (or both of them if you prefer) for the interview here on Flames Rising.

Review by Steven Dawes

Back with another overdue review of Witchblade (provided for review by the publisher in pdf format). Usually I don’t comment on the alternate covers (many of them have way too much cleavage for me to appreciate), but I have to say that Chris Bachalo’s Cover B is brilliant for this issue — it’s an almost Disnified version of Sara wearing very little Witchblade armor, but she’s just so cute that her scantily clad bod seems secondary to the hair and earrings being featured. None of the covers are particularly relevant to the content inside in this issue, so the cute factor goes a long way.

Sejic and Marz continue their excellent work in issue #131, which is really a wrap-up to the “War of the Witchblades” story line. Poor Julie’s been left out in the cold, not knowing about Sara’s secret, paranormal life. Now that she has a chance to talk to Gleason (while both of them try to get baby Hope to cooperate with eating and bathing), he sums up what’s been going on in the world for the last six issues. Apparently, Sara’s such a good cop that despite missing shifts and going a little insane during the previous arc, all she’s facing is a slap on the wrist. As for the consequences of the Witchblade’s division and restoration — it looks like Sara may have some work ahead of her keeping the dark side of the balance in check.

Overall, this is a recap issue, and if not for some gorgeous, almost painterly art by Sejic, it would be easily skippable. But from the hilarious joking pout on Julie’s face on the first page to a beautifully colored circular panel of Sara and Dani on the closing page, Sejic’s art continues to shine. Having the wrap-up is a handy way for Top Cow to inform readers that Dani and Finch are moving on into their own series (and possibly a relationship) while making it clear that Sara’s struggle is ongoing. She’s been changed by falling into Darkness, and even though she’s back in control, there may be moments when, faced with evil, she’s tempted to retaliate with her own darkness. Issue #131 isn’t a must-buy episode in the ongoing saga, but it’s definitely worth collecting if you’ve been following the rest of the storyline.

Review by Alana Abbott

Available at Amazon.com

After I got done reading CHANGES by Jim Butcher, the twelfth novel in the Dresden Files series, the first words that popped into my head were, “Holy hell.” First? There is absolutely no way that I can review this book without spoiling something for someone, so consider this a warning – if you don’t want anything spoiled for you, then don’t read this review. Second? If you’re a fan of the Dresden Files, then this is “the” book for you.

Okay, now back to the review. The first chapter opens up with a sucker punch to the gut. (You can read the first chapter of CHANGES on the author’s website.) Harry Dresden has a kid and she’s seven or eight years old? (Has it been that long since we’ve started reading the series? Are we THAT old?) Harry wastes no time delving into the darker regions of his soul to rescue his little girl, one that he’s never met. His sense of chivalry kicks into overdrive and along the way he gets badly maimed, makes some questionable decisions, turns over a lot of stones, and enlists the help of several other characters.

If you’re expecting a direct sequel to TURN COAT, this is not it. CHANGES is, in many ways, a fulcrum for a lot of the other previous books in the series, because it ties together several characters and settings from the previous books as a result of Harry’s incredibly single-minded goal. He will save his daughter, even if it means that he might lose his own life in the process.

CHANGES is an incredibly fast read and, in my opinion, is the best-written of the series. The hits just keep on coming and coming and coming. There were a few places where I couldn’t quite follow the logic or the slower explanation bits, but you have to remember that I read really fast — especially when every chapter ends on a cliffhanger and you need to know what happens next. To say that there are a lot of “changes” is kind of an understatement — Dresden isn’t the only character that shifts in this book.

Part of the appeal to the plot, is that there isn’t a lot of time to sit around and have a meaningful discussion about what to do or even — the morality — of what they’re about to do. There are moments where Harry confronts Susan about her poor decision not to tell him about his kid, and there is definitely still tension between the two. It’s interesting to see how the Red Court takes advantage of their feelings for each other, because as far as vampires go — they’re pretty damn evil.

Again, there’s really nothing more that I can say without spoiling what happens for you, because there are a lot of surprises in CHANGES. (Though, I will say I enjoyed Vadderung immensely.) I imagine a lot of fans will be screaming, yelling and/or crying after they read this book, because CHANGES doesn’t pull any punches. It ends on a rather “big” cliffhanger — probably the “biggest” cliffhanger to date. With eight books in the series left to go, it sucks that we’ll just have to wait to see what happens next.

Review by Monica Valentinelli

C2E2 ANNOUNCES “AN EVENING WITH NEIL GAIMAN”

Neil Gaiman, the award winning author of novels, film, and comics including the epoch changing graphic novel series The Sandman will take the stage for a benefit appearance on behalf of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund at Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo (C2E2). An “Evening with Neil Gaiman”, a paid ticketed event, will happen on Saturday night, April 17, with 100% of the proceeds going to benefit the First Amendment legal work of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund.

The last time Gaiman performed theatrical readings was ten years ago when he did the “Last Angel Tour.” On that tour, he criss-crossed the country doing sold-out evenings reading stories and poems, new material and beloved tales in order to draw attention to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. The “Last Angel Tour” was meant to have been the last ever such tour, and it produced the long-since sold out LIVE AT THE ALADDIN film. Even the posters from that tour now sell for hundreds of dollars.

That was ten years ago. A generation has grown up who have not seen an evening with Neil Gaiman. In these ten years he’s published such books as American Gods, Coraline and The Graveyard Book. He’s made movies and operas. He even started keeping a blog.

“Neil Gaiman is an enormous personality and it is a genuine privilege to have him perform at the inaugural C2E2 to bring attention to the important work that is carried out by the CBLDF,” states Lance Fensterman, Group Vice President for the Reed Pop Culture Group and Show Manager for C2E2.

“The Reed Pop Culture Group’s commitment to the CBLDF is tremendous, and we’re honored to work with them to create this unforgettable evening of storytelling to raise funds for the CBLDF’s important work,” says Charles Brownstein, the CBLDF’s Executive Director.

An “Evening with Neil Gaiman” will be Mr. Gaiman’s only public appearance at C2E2. Tickets for the event will be available at www.C2E2.com beginning Monday, March 8th at 12pm Central Time. You do not need a ticket to C2E2 to attend. Tickets for the general public start at $30 and C2E2 VIP Ticket Holders can attend for as low as $12. Ticket prices will increase at the door. Visit www.C2E2.com now for full details and ticket pricing.

For One Night Only. On the 17th of April 2010, at 7pm in the Arie Crown / IGN Theater at McCormick Place in Chicago. In support of the First Amendment. Neil Gaiman. You don’t want to miss this.

In this episode, Lavender and Blake deal with the contents of the boxes and catch up on some old business with Kyle.

Lavender and Blake head over to Bootlegger’s, a kind of a blue collar-ish sports bar, to catch a quick bite to eat. Trying out her new “toy,” she tries to put the one-word whammy on a college kid and fails miserably, so she goes for the gold and entrances him. Leading him out to her car, she has a quick bite and wonders how to make better use of “Dominate.” After having a quick bite, she takes the mortal over to Coyote Ugly and dumps him in a sea of waitresses. On the way back to Bootlegger’s, Lavender notices Blake heading out with another woman, so she heads back to her apartment and finds a bunch of new books on the shelf. While she’s waiting for Blake, she skims through the titles looking for information about the ghost rock. Blake ends up rolling in, and they chat about last week.

Blake asked Ms. Raines about the owner of the journals and it appears that she might be on the West Coast. Lavender recommends we ask Judith Lagerman if she knows how to get in touch with her. Changing the subject, Lavender asks Blake if he was able to get through to Kyle. Apparently, Kyle has a few leads and was going to check it out this week. Lavender mentions that they should probably follow up tonight. Kyle responds that he’s in the middle of a deal.

While they’re waiting, Blake starts rattling off the contents of the crates and what they should do with them. Lavender asks if they have a full inventory of all of the items in the crates. Her concern is to ensure that the people that helped out on the dive are taken care of and that they’re not relying on Filthfoot; she has something she wants from both the captain and from Butch. They hear from Kyle, and he does have a few things to pick up but it’s not clear if they’re the files or not. Lavender doesn’t really trust Kyle, especially since she’s not sure who he’s hanging out with, and she’s contemplating whether or not she should blow the whistle on him.

As Blake and Lavender discuss the remaining contents of the dives, Lavender tries to figure out how to give Filthfoot more information about the ghost rock. She realize that she does have something to offer him, but will have to wait until they run into one another. Lavender also mentions to Blake that they can investigate the contents of the crates without being “vamps” about it; they can take pictures or research as “reporters.” Skimming through the new books on her shelf, she comes across a ward to keep ghosts out of a space, so she mentions that she wants to go to an occult store and pick up some supplies. Giovanni Callavino, a Ventrue, had set up a meeting with Blake and another individual by the name of Professor Arbighast. They decide to meet up at a coffee shop which is a couple of doors down from The Pentagram, an occult bookstore that also happens to have some ritual supplies.

At the coffee shop, we meet up with Moira, who is Callavino’s mortal assistant, and Callavino, an elderly gentleman vampire who introduces us to Professor Arbighast. The Professor is a skilled linguist and knows Russian; he asks about the date book and who the book was owned by. Blake mentions that the owner was in her mid-forties, but Lavender is concerned that the Regent’s “true age” will be revealed by the semantics of the language. Professor Arbighast asked about the murder of Anton Porter, “Blake’s” former self. Blake is a touch evasive, but seems to handle it okay. Apparently, the Professor and Anton knew each other when Anton was alive.

Mr. Callavino strikes up a conversation with Lavender; they discuss the challenges with living in Chicago and addressing the “threat level” of activity in the city. Mr. Callavino mentions that the City of Chicago has a conflux, that people are drawn to the city because of its activity. Professor Arbighast and Blake come to an agreement about the translation; Lavender hopes she has the chance to remind Blake about ensuring ways to protect the Regent’s identity.

Then Mr. Callavino swings out from left field and says, “Tell Professor Arbighast about your stone.” Lavender feels like she has just had a glass of water thrown in her face. Apparently we have an “associate” in common who told him we were keeping it safe. (FILTHFOOT!!!) Professor Arbighast is obviously uncomfortable about the meeting, but agrees to take a look at the rock. Callavino seems pretty blunt to Lavender, but she thinks he’s probably just a bit “off” and doesn’t really concern herself with his plans. Lavender confides to Blake that language is one of the easiest ways to “date” a person.

They head to The Pentagram and find a book in the Reading Only section about protective spells, which…oddly enough…had the same ingredients they gave to Holy Oak. Lavender’s first thought is that it might be a breach of the Masquerade, but she’s not sure, and she wants to explore it further during the week. Thinking about it further, she will set up a meeting with Filthfoot and ask that he ends up “visiting” during their meeting with Professor Arbighast while he inspects the ghost rock.

Blake and Lavender quickly head over to Cassandra’s Visions and pick up a few supplies (e.g. Lavender picked them out and made Blake pay). Anxiously, they wait for Kyle and discuss the shopping list for Holy Oak. Blake is offering the idea that the old Mekhet guided their thoughts; Lavender doesn’t really care whether or not he did. She’s more concerned about the book itself and the fact that Kindred-based magic has been recorded, and recommends that they get in touch with Holy Oak.

Kyle waltzes in and brings the “spoils” from the warehouse. Lavender says, “It’s now or never.” The files in the banker’s boxes are detailed information about mortals and criminals; it’s possible that a few files are also on the Kindred, but it might be a decade or two old. Lavender recommends that they copy the files and then let Kyle turn them over to the Prince to show that “he’s cooperating.” After discussing a few details about financials, Lavender notices that Kyle hasn’t really mentioned anything about the ghost rock. Lavender decides go to the kitchen and grabs some sea salt and a ziploc bag, sticks the rock in the bag and puts it back in the safe.

If you’re interested in catching up on previous sessions, read:

• Vampire: the Requiem in Chicago. First Night.
• Keep Your Friends Close: Actual Play Update from Lavender
• Keep Your Friends Close: Actual Play Update from Blake
• Keep Your Friends Close: Treasure Hunting?
• Keep Your Friends Close: Inside the Box

The world ends with the flip of a switch. The thundering storms strike across the world, searing the earth, leaving destruction in their wake. Few will survive. For the folks living in Temperance, Illinois the nightmare is just beginning. When the sky roils in luminous colors, the people of the small town begin to die, and Randall Clay decides to escape. What he didn’t expect was the dead to come back to life or the nightmare that came after that.

Elder Signs Press has offered the first two chapters from this new zombie tale for Flames Rising readers to enjoy. Pallid Light: The Waking Dead is available now at Amazon.com.

Pallid Light by William Jones

Chapter 1

The room disappeared in a flash of blackness, hiding the apartment in a heavy gloom. I smiled. Dark places never bothered me. I’ve lived most of my life in them—sitting in cells, hiding in the shadows. No, the light had always been my problem. No matter where I went, I needed to bring my own darkness.

But tonight it wasn’t the city-wide power outage that sent something cold crawling up my spine. It was the strange lights.

A hard storm rolled in from the west, bringing with it streaks of lightning, booming thunder, and a thick curtain of rain. It also brought red and blue lights—neon heavens.

“Rand, you there?” The voice was followed by a hammering on my apartment door. Fat drops of rain exploded against the window. I waited a moment, watching the sky, the lights, the streets. Sensing the strangeness.

“Rand!” The apartment door rattled again. “Let me in.”

“Turn it down.” I dropped off the wooden stool before the window, and moved toward the door. My pace was slow, really just to taunt Cada. She lived in a constant State of Emergency. I thought about that. Funny how people lose it when anything unusual happens. But she was like that before the storm.

“What do you want?” I opened the door, leaning to the side, avoiding her fist as it missed its target. “Pretty good swing.”

Her blue eyes widened, eyebrows forming a hard line. “Why the hell didn’t you answer?”

“Just did.” I pulled the door wide, waving her inside. “You know, you look like one of those fish that inflates when you’re angry. Maybe a little cuter though.”

“I’ve been calling,” she said.

“Ha. Guess the phone is dead. Or maybe I threw it away.” I shrugged.

She hoisted a finger at me, then pointed a different selection at the window.

“Have you seen what’s going on out there? No power and half the city’s flooded. And you’re sitting here, playing hermit and joking.”

“Who’s joking?”

Thunder shook the apartment. Another wave of rain tapped against the windows like a million anxious fingers. And the strange lights glowered above the storm.

She stomped across the floor, running shoes squishing with each step. “While you’re here doing . . .doing—” she threw her hands in the air— “doing God knows what, everyone else is sandbagging, trying to keep the town from washing away. Think about it, Rand. No power. No lights. No alarms. And you. . . here. . .in Temperance. Alone. If anything happens, anything . . .you’re taking the fall.”

After I’d moved to Temperance, Cada Finch befriended me. She was one of those types who thought loners needed friends, when really she was the one in need. Always the hero of some lost cause. This time the cause being me.

Cada just wasn’t made for Temperance. I wasn’t either. But a small town in Illinois, skirting the edge of Lake Michigan seemed like the perfect spot for an ex-con. Yeah, I still don’t get the “ex” part. Once a convict, always a convict. Jackson, Temperance, choose your prison.

“So you’re saying the town thinks I’m going on a killing spree?” I flashed a smile, strolling to the fridge. Flattering.

“No,” she answered abruptly. It seemed like the rest of her sentence caught in her throat. “No, not that. But really weird stuff is going on and they’ll pin you for it.”

I laughed, pulled a beer out, twisted it open. “You think I give a damn?” Took a swig, and returned to my seat.

Water flowed down Bridgeway Drive. It already crested the curbs and was swelling onto the sidewalks. I looked at the sky, it still glowed in unnatural colors. Hues of blue and green with jagged red lines of lightning.

“Does that look like an aurora to you?” I pointed the bottle at the sky.

“It’s just lights reflecting off the clouds.” She approached me. Wet, short strands of blonde hair clung to her face. The sweatshirt and jeans she wore repeated the trick but with her rangy body. “I saw Gordon Cleary tonight,” she said matter-of-factly.

I gave it some thought. For a few seconds, I wondered which was stranger: lights reflecting off clouds during a power outage, or Cada seeing a dead man.

* * *

“I was at Greene’s store buying some Marlboros when the power died. Figured I’d need some batteries. Dave brought out a flashlight to help me find them, and that’s when Gordon walked past the front window.” Cada dug into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of smokes. Water wrinkled fingers rifled through them. “Jesus, Rand, he was still dressed in his suit from the funeral home.”

She patted her pockets. I pulled out my Zippo. Her hands and face trembled as she tried to align the cigarette with the flame.

“Thanks.” Cada pulled deep and exhaled a stream of smoke, spilling out like dragon’s breath. “Dave didn’t see him, but I did. And he really wasn’t walking. It was more like someone was pulling him along like a puppet.” She took another drag. “Something’s wrong out there.”

Something did feel wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Not quite yet. And I didn’t want to mention it to Cada until I knew what it was. That had always been my thing. All of my life, just before things went sideways, I sensed it. Handy, sure. Handy enough to get me locked away for murder. But thanks to a fucked-up system, I got out on a mistrial. That one I didn’t see coming.

“It was probably somebody pulling a joke,” I said. “Dead men don’t walk. . . except in prison.”

As if to counter my words, glass crashed downstairs.

“What’s that?” Cada asked. Her State of Emergency just went up a notch.

“Sounded like a window.” Plenty of experience with breaking windows. And whoever broke this one didn’t care about being quiet.

Cada started pacing again, puffing like a train. “Where’s the guy downstairs?”

“Eric? He’s mostly not home.” Actually, I didn’t care for the prick. He always eyed me. Definitely had an itch to see me locked up again. I wouldn’t be surprised to find newspaper articles about me hanging in one of his bedrooms, accompanied by thumbtacks with strings stretching back and forth showing my whereabouts. I knew his kind. They were the fucking crazy ones.

Mixed with the rumble of thunder was the crashing of furniture. Maybe a yell or two.

“Shouldn’t we check on him?” Cada asked, halting.

No. “Yep. Right,” I sighed. I went to the door, Cada trailing. “You stay here.” I gestured at the couch. “Keep a spot there. And if you hear me tell you to run, you move.”

Temperance was a small town. Certainly not big enough for this much mystery in one night. Hell, it wasn’t big enough for more than one apartment building. When I moved in, I hooked a second floor flat on a side street. It’d been a boarding house years ago, back when trains existed. I guess it’s what most people would call cozy. I called it fucking inconvenient. Dorothy Ford owned the place. And she wanted it to stay just the way it was in the 1800s—it’s that old. No cable, no satellite. A phone, and a useless rooftop antenna was as high-tech as the place got. Of course, I understood why an ex-con lived in Dorothy’s historical museum of dead thrills, but why Eric Walker? A man with an expensive car, nice suits, and enough money to vanish for weeks—why would he live there?

Like I said, I knew the type. He was hiding something. And as I marched down the narrow stairwell, I hoped his secret didn’t decide to pay a visit.

When I reached his door, it was slightly open. I peered through the crack. Glimpses of furniture, paintings on the walls, and shadows were visible in the sickly glow cast through the windows. Now and then, a brilliant flash of lightning uncovered a darker recess.

Pushing gently, the door opened with a creak that was quickly swallowed by the marching of the rain. To my left, one of the bay windows was shattered. A stream of water rolled over the jagged edges of glass, pooling on the hardwood floor.

From the bedroom I heard the tumble of something hard—muffled by the ceaseless rain.

“Eric?” Calling for him went against my every fiber. But I wouldn’t put it past him to be sitting on the other side of the door, shotgun leveled. Waiting.

He knew my history, like most people in Temperance. And like most, he didn’t like me. No problem, I didn’t like most of them.

With soft steps, I moved across the room. The only weapon I had was a pocket knife. Mostly useless. And if I pulled it, I was on shaky ground—prowling through a flat in the dark, uninvited. Not worth it.

I halted at the bedroom door. It too stood ajar, but the angle was wrong. Couldn’t get a view inside. I rapped on it once, and waited. I thought I heard mumbling, but in the roiling rain it was hard to tell.

Slowly, I pushed open the door. There lay Eric. Flat on his back, sprawled across the floor, blankets spilled over the bed, folding beneath him. At his sides were two locals. Teenage punks who wanted to be tough, but who were afraid to leave the protection of a small town. They liked to mouth-off at me, knowing all the while they were safe. And I’d never seen them when their eyes weren’t glazed. I’d dubbed them Stoned and Stoner.

They ignored me. Hunched over Eric’s body, they pawed at what remained of Eric’s insides. His gut was split—clawed open. And the two punks unraveled his intestines, gnawing and chewing them.

A knot formed in my stomach. And I’m the monster?

Blood glistened on the floor, gushing outward. Their wet faces shone in the greenish light of the storm.

This was seriously fucked-up.

Then one turned his gaze toward me.

Chapter 2

It was Stoned who clambered to his feet first, swaying back and forth. The other continued working on Eric’s eviscerated corpse.

The world spun for a split-second as I tried to understand what I saw. It wasn’t the blood, or the gore. I was used to that. I came from a world of darker horrors—decapitated heads in a bag, butchered torsos, knapsacks filled with limbs. And the agonized wails of the mothers and wives who discovered their loved ones. No, butchered bodies didn’t bother me as much as the horror-struck face of a mother who’d found part of her son in a bag, sent as a message.

And somehow this was different.

Stoned stumbled forward. A vapid gaze set on his face. Sneering lips revealed crimson teeth. Without him saying a word, I knew what he wanted. Another meal.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, pushing the door wide open. It bumped against a wall stop. “What a bunch of sick fucks. What the hell are you high on?” I wondered if Eric’s secret was some sort of designer drug.

A tepid growl came from Stoner. Maybe he was trying to talk, maybe not. I didn’t much care. What I did know was the guy downstairs who didn’t like me was dead, and was being eaten by two brain dead punks. Somehow, this was going to come down on me. That’s the way the world worked.

Then Eric sat up.

“Shit!” I stepped back. “You’re alive?”

A thick red liquid spilled from his mouth, dribbling down his chin, stringing into his open abdomen. Guess that answered my question.

None of this fit together in my head. Everything inside me screamed, “Get out!” But there was that feeling. That dark chill touching my spine. There was also a thick stench.

I raised my hands. “Ok fellas, I’m leaving. Have at it.” I stepped backward, eyeing Stoned, who seemed to finally get his footing.

With Eric upright, the second teenager turned his attention to me. He struggled to stand, slipping on the slick floor. With each move, gore spewed from his mouth, followed by a guttural hacking.

I backstepped into the living room, already knowing how this was going to play-out.

Stoned bolted forward, as though spurred by an electrical shock. His arms reached outward, fingers clawing the air.

I sidestepped, lifting my booted foot and pushing it against his knee. It made a crunchy sound, then he squeaked. I grabbed his shoulder and pushed, sending him down, face first on the floor.

Keeping my eyes on the other two, I planted my boot on the back of his neck. “Stay there,” I said to Stoned, “or I’ll put you down.”

He gurgled. The others made growling sounds.

I pushed with my boot, thinking Stoned might warn the others away. Instead, he uttered nonsense sounds. Eric and his new pal kept coming.

In the ghoulish light they looked dead. And Eric, innards drooping to the floor, dark blood washing down his legs, by all rights should be dead. It made less sense with each passing moment.

My thoughts whirled as though the storm outside had entered my head. Things had become so unreal, I had no choice but to accept them. I knew how the cops would explain them later, and that explanation involved me.

I started to lift my foot from Stoned’s neck. Then I thought it over. Eric ambled toward me, guts dragging on the floor, a stupid half-smile on his face. There’s no good ending here.

“Fuck it,” I said. “Never liked you anyway.” I stomped on the kid’s neck. It popped as my foot pushed into the soft flesh.

In two steps I was on the next teenager. Maybe if I kept him alive he’d talk when he came down from his high. No. It didn’t work that way for you.

I grabbed his throat, pulling him forward, and clocked him on the head with my elbow. He dropped like a ragdoll. Meanwhile, Eric was still taking robot steps across the floor. He plodded ahead, one foot in front of the other, swaying from side-to-side like walking a ship in a storm.

Saving him time, I stepped forward, and hammered a fist into his nose. The bone cracked. Blood oozed. And he didn’t blink.

I looked at his blue and bloodied face. There was something more than emptiness there. I wasn’t sure what. Maybe a little bit of Eric. Maybe a little bit of what he was hiding. His lips turned upward ever so slightly into a snarl. And for the first time, I’d noticed a faint glow in his eyes.

“Not happening,” I said.

He reached out—arms slow and stiff.

I grabbed his thumb and twisted, expecting him to drop to his knees in pain. Instead, he clawed at me with his other hand, coming closer, teeth snapping.

His guts dangled from his abdomen. And he kept moving. Obviously, my mind was muddled. Of course he wouldn’t feel any pain—he was beyond that.

I didn’t know what Eric was hiding, but I had always sensed a darkness in him. Drug dealer, serial killer, kidnapper—didn’t make a difference. I saw it there, and despised it.

“Bad day for you,” I said. With a free hand, I clamped onto his collar, pulling his head back. He gurgled, red spittle seeped from his mouth. I released his thumb, locked both hands on his head, and twisted. His neck snapped. Finally his body stopped squirming. I pushed him away, letting what was left of him tumble to the floor.

This was not how I’d expected my visit to go. Thought I might help the asshole. Maybe this was his secret, I decided. Some kind of cannibal and drugs scene. But it didn’t make sense. He was a traveler. He’d keep his secrets far from Temperance.

I knew something was up before I’d arrived. I knew it the minute the storm started. And something told me this was just the beginning.

I had a few minutes before Cada started worrying and decided to go looking for me. I scanned the flat. There was no use trying to clean up. And all of this was still going to land on me, unless I found something pointing in another direction. I had the one teenager who might tell the truth—doubted that. Figured I’d look around the place. Maybe find whatever Eric had hidden. The situation was beyond the point of getting worse.

Knowing the tricks, I headed to the bedroom, skirting the macabre decorations on the floor. Checking the dresser drawers was a waste of time. Amateur stuff. I didn’t bother. But I did take his car keys sitting in a bowl on top of the dresser. I had to hoof everywhere, and it looked like I might need to move a bit faster unless things turned around.

Outside the storm persisted. Loud cracks of thunder shook the building. The rain continued its ceaseless dance upon the roof and ground. It created a constant thrumming.

I opened the closet. On the top shelf there was a shoebox. It was too obvious to hold anything damning—but I still hoped. Inside I found a 9mm Beretta, three magazines, and a half empty box of cartridges.

Probably has a permit. I took the pistol, pushed in a clip, and stuffed the rest into my pocket. Just then, a familiar feeling settled over me. How many times had I followed this path? Getting ready to run. It was supposed to be over when I was locked up. And I’d told myself it would never happen again when they let me out.

Like I said, I bring my own darkness with me.

Right now, things needed to keep moving. I had to keep those thoughts at bay. One after another, I yanked clothes from the rack in the closest, tossing them aside. Eric wasn’t going to make this easy.

Mixed with the tattoo of the rain was the sound of a footfall from behind. I turned. In the doorway stood Stoner, eyes hollow, jaw slack. His face was painted in blood, as was the hoodie he wore. One foot plodded forward. He burbled some sounds. Maybe they were words. I sensed a rhythm. A shape to them. It wasn’t English. Regardless, his intent was clear.

I pulled the pistol from my belt and chambered a round.

* * * *

Pallid Light: The Waking Dead is available at Amazon.com.

This preview for was provided and published with express permission from Elder Signs Press and William Jones.

Available at RPGNow.com

A number of entities have carved a successful niche for themselves creating support products for D&D. One of these, Open Design LLC, operates under an interesting model; direct patronage. They produce material, in part or in full, based on what their sponsors wish to see and are willing to finance. One of their more recent products, the Imperial Gazetteer, describes the region containing the Principality of Morgau and Doresh. This realm was once like any other, but is currently controlled by vampires and ghouls. As one might expect, most of the adversaries presented within are of considerable power; this region is not one on which 1st level characters could expect cut their teeth, by any means.

The book begins with a brief introduction to the subject material by co-author Wolfgang Baur. The first chapter details the history of the principality, giving a brief overview of less recent events while covering more current history a bit more closely. Crisp summaries of a few notable personages PC are likely to encounter in the region are included here, as well as information on a new race, the Darakhul, ghouls who have tamed their more bestial side with logic and reason. The chapter closes by covering the geography of the area — including thumbnail sketches of its major cities — religious cults, and aspects of daily life such as trade and commerce.

The second chapter covers the under-empire: the Ghoul Imperium. Run by the Darakhul who are ambitious, intelligent, and wield powerful necromantic magic, this under-empire exists in a kind of détente with the vampires controlling the surface; neither wants the other to gain enough power to hold sway, yet both recognize the threat from clerics and paladins of the outside world, so co-operation between the two realms is less grudging than one might expect. Here, too, trade is important; PCs who think on their feet might offer to trade surface items here for something more scarce on the sunlit world; unusual creatures, strange compounds and elixirs and foreign fungi and plants are all to be had in the markets of the Ghoul Imperium – if the price is right.

Chapter three covers locations to be found outside the sphere of influence of the Ghouls, the deeper, wilder regions of the underdark. This chapter more than any other is presented as a dungeon delve; by the less organized nature of the region, it offers greater opportunity for carnage with fewer direct consequences. Chapter four details the Darakhul city known as Darakhan, the City of White. Chapter five is predominantly given over to stat-blocs of the various creatures and adversaries found elsewhere.

What I liked about this book was its refusal to offer itself up for slaughter. The vampire and ghoul empires are well organized, intelligent and thoroughly capable of defending themselves from any band of outsiders short of a large army. They are presented more as a region to explore and with whom to trade, possibly also as a rest-stop on the way to the wilder, more delve-prone areas beyond these civilizations. I was also impressed with the amount of work put into the economies and ecologies of the regions presented; it’s clear they are intended not as simple targets to be plundered, but a source of much wonder, fear and adventure in any campaign. While the most common encounter will be a member of the undead, other creatures are numerous and potent threats that provide variety and prevent the PCs from complacency.

The area where I found this book wanting was the lack of any introduction to the world at large. The Principality and under-realm presented are perfectly adaptable to any campaign, and this is a point of strength for the book; I found myself wanting to know more about the entire world from which this gem was plucked – how the pieces of the larger puzzle fit together, as it were. While such information (or lack of same) does not detract in any way from the quality of the work as presented – and in fact may be a conscious choice on the part of creators Wolfgang Baur and Scott Gable – I can’t help but feel the Open Design team is missing an opportunity to reach a larger audience by making more information about other aspects of their setting readily accessible within the pages of this book – as an appendix, or an introduction.

The Patronage model, under which Open Design tends to operate, is similar to the way great works of art were funded in the Middle Ages and even up to the present day: The team offers an idea of work they’re interested in producing; those who wish to see that work completed are invited to subscribe to the project financially to ensure its success. It this way the publishers face far less risk in producing material that inspires them; at the same time the reach of such product isn’t as extensive as it could be under other production models. Regardless, the Patronage model has sparked admiration and renewed interest – so much so that Wolfgang Baur and the Open Design Team were recipients of the 2008 Diana Jones Award for Excellence in Gaming. http://www.dianajonesaward.org/about.html

At $15.95 for print version or $9.95 for a PDF, Imperial Gazetteer is an intriguing piece of work. A welcome addition to any campaign where the players are more interested in role-playing than smash and grab tactics, it will reward such players with plenty of wonder, intrigue and exhilarating experiences. It reminds me of the feeling I used to get playing D&D when it was still a new experience for me; around any corner could be mounds of treasure or perils to curdle the blood. I’m pleased to have that sense of wonder return for all of us in the form of Imperial Gazetteer: The Principality of Morgau and Doresh.

Review by Bill Bodden

Know Just Enough To Be Dangerous

Everybody knows rock salt keeps out ghosts and silver kills werewolves. That’s just Folklore 101. But when you need to get rid of a crocotta, banish a tulpa, or deal with an Angel of the Lord, you’re going to need a really good guide.

Centuries of monster lore meet years of seasoned hunting experience and a handful of potentially unreliable Internet files in this essential sourcebook for the Supernatural Role Playing Game.

This full-color hunter’s manual features dozens of spooks, freaks, and threats that have challenged the Winchester brothers on nearly five seasons of the CW network’s hit show, Supernatural.

Each monster is fully detailed with Cortex System game statistics and plenty of lore, ready to drop into any campaign. With extra material on how to play monsters as hunters and create your own supernatural threats, the Guide to the Hunted is an indispensable resource.

The Guide to the Hunted is available now at the Flames Rising RPGNow Shop.

Available at Amazon.com

On the front cover of my copy of THE STEPSISTER’S SCHEME, there’s a quote. The quote reads:

“These princesses will give Charlie’s Angels’ a serious run for their money, and leave ‘em in the dust.” — Esther Fresner, author of Nobody’s Princess.

Immediately, that quote set my expectations that THE STEPSISTER’S SCHEME was going to be a so-called fantasy “popcorn read.” That I was just going to sit back and watch Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty kick a whole lot of troll butt while they flirt their proverbial tiaras off. You know that part where you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover? Yeah, guilty as charged.

While there is plenty of action and adventure in THE STEPSISTER’S SCHEME, it is not a straight-up “popcorn read.” The series is a re-imagining of classic fairy tale characters from a more realistic (and in some cases, truly terrifying) perspective. Each princess has a “real” name and a very, realistic identity that adds to her character. Part of that identity, is the “cost” of either becoming a rags-to-riches princess, being beautiful, or having an insane amount of power because you’re the daughter of an evil sorceress. In this book, which is the first of the series, you are introduced to “some” of that backstory through Danielle, which you may commonly know as Cinderella. THE STEPSISTER’S SCHEME picks up after Danielle/Cinderella had gotten married to her prince. Not only does Danielle have a hard time reconciling her humble beginnings, the remainder of her family (a.k.a. the stepsisters) do as well. The plot not only revolves around the kidnapping of Danielle’s husband, Prince Armand, and her pregnancy, but also introduces her to Queen Beatrice’s so-called “secret service.” This “secret service” is where the Charlie’s Angels analogy comes into play, for in this book Princess Talia (Sleeping Beauty) and Snow White help Queen Beatrice maintain the peace in interesting ways.

As you would expect, female characters do have more of a prominent role in this book, but they are definitely presented in a multi-faceted way. In this book, I didn’t like Danielle’s character because I thought she was too whiny and I couldn’t understand Talia’s peculiar behavior until I learned more of her backstory. My favorite character in this book was “Snow” (as in “White”) who didn’t want to be referred to by her real name and, at times, felt embarrassed by her mother. Even though I didn’t like Danielle, I thought that her backstory was very inventive and strong, and definitely facilitated her ability to be compassionate. About half-way through the book, I realized that Hines was leaving a lot of room for her character to grow.

When I reflect upon my feelings, I think that my mixed reactions to the characters is a good thing. THE STEPSISTER’S SCHEME is a fantasy and, in many ways, a dark one. Hines ability to flesh out tried-and-true characters in a new and more realistic way enables us to relate to them, regardless of where they are or what story is taking place.

Because my attention was so heavily focused on the characters, I found that the plot moved really quickly. I was able to enjoy the blending of classic fairy tales into an actual world where these characters live, because much of the world-building made sense to me. If I shared any more, I feel as if I would spoil the book for you. In my opinion, reinventing fairy tales and blending them into “one world” is a challenge for any writer, and I believe that Jim C. Hines did a bang-up job.

So if you like fairy tales, female protagonists and dark fantasy, then I believe you will really get a kick out of THE STEPSISTER’S SCHEME.

Review by Monica Valentinelli

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