A Scholar's Journey

The ethics of piracy

2011-04-29T18:06:00.000-07:00

Piracy is one of the most controversial topics in the entertainment industry (any of them, take your pick). Is it wrong to take digital media, simply 1s and 0s, for free? The entertainment industry would have you believe it is a flat no. But, that is not necessarily completely true. The topic is controversial, since it is not black and white, but a hazy grey.

Taking and playing media that has not been paid for is wrong, no matter how it was acquired. But, the issue becomes very convoluted, due to the evolution of technology. Where does ownership start and where does ownership stop? If I were to simply take a game off the store shelves, without paying for it, this would be considered stealing. I did not pay money for it. Thus, I am not the rightful owner. But, if a buddy lends me the game, this is socially acceptable. Why? I did not pay for the game, yet I get to play the game for free and it is possible that I will not buy the game. How is this different from someone anonymously sharing their copy of the game with an entire nation?

None the less, the latter is considered wrong, since it prevents developers from being paid.

Used game sellers (Gamestop for example) came under fire recently for selling used games. The developers don’t get paid after the initial sale of the game. So, one person plays the game, then sells it back to Gamestop, the game is then sold to a new person at a reduced price, used but still quite playable. It is kind of a stretch, but is this another version of legal piracy? By the same token, could I argue the same point for retailers selling used shirts? Is Goodwill the equivalent of modern day clothing pirates? Certainly the Gap is losing money, due to Ross and Goodwill. Why isn’t Goodwill being sued by the Gap? Is it possibly because they employ the homeless? How dare they! Taken out of context, this issue is mildly ridiculous

Getting back to the original point; one of the older versions of piracy is copying CDs and giving them to our friends. Someone bought the CD, so why can't they share it with their friends? Now, their friends might still go and buy the CD, but giving the artist their due just became charity. Have you ever tried to be an artist working off of charity? Ramen tastes great!

Yet, it is still ill mannered to go online and find a torrent for a recently released game. Why is that? Is it social engineering at work or our own morals? Someone bought this game, paid the developers, and then shared the CD (ISO) with the rest of the world. They say that there are only six degrees of seperation between everyone in the world. So, technically through a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, everyone knows one another. Where is the line drawn? Is it sharing with one friend or a couple thousand buddies?

Piracy has actually benefited artists. It has allowed them to get their art into the main stream, creating a surge of support. Torrenting specifically has given some artists the breakout chance they needed that could not be provided in any other way. Here is an example: the book "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho, a Russian author, was not making money or selling many copies. It got put out on the internet for torrenting and suddenly his sales spiked and he garnered a much wider audience. Now, he has a successful book.

But, this was done by the author for the author. Sharing a song/game/movie you have not bought can lead to an artist seeking other forms of income, like working at McDonalds; preventing them from making another game/song/movie for your entertainment.

Wait wait wait, how does this affect big conglomerates, successful bands, and big name production studios? The same is true for big name studios, though they may not be going hungry, and they may come out with a sequel to your favorite game, but it will lack the flare of the original, due to a tighter budget. In some cases another consequence is that they may not be able to afford the talent that made the first game such a hit.

Modern warfare 2 pulled in revenues totaling 550 million dollars within five days of launch worldwide. Topping out as the biggest entertainment launch ever. Within 2009, torrent freak reports that Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 was pirated 4,100,000 times (205,000,000$). Seriously? Here is the crazy part. The two head guys at Infinity ward (makers of Modern Warfare 1 and 2) were fired by Activision for allegations of unpaid royalties to the entirety of Infinity Ward and wanting to work on a new IP (They had been working on Modern Warfare fore quite a long time). Here is the kicker, the two head guys own the rights to any Call of Duty game after the Vietnam era, not Activision. That is a legal nightmare. Activision has one of the most profitable franchises that it cannot touch. These two guys left Activision, signed with EA, made their own company, and took the majority of the talent that made Infinity Ward, Infinity Ward with them. If the game had never been pirated and every copy paid for, you would likely be playing Modern Warfare 3 right now and one of the most talented studios in the industry would be going strong.

Music artists have the same worries as well, but not quite in the same way. When Disturbed puts out a studio album, they have to go on tour, since radio sales and CD/online retail mp3 sales are not enough to support their life styles. Wait, live shows are awesome right? Yup, but it also prevents them from going to the recording studio and making another album for you to listen to.

Piracy exists in a very grey area of morality and the law. But, it undeniably affects our lives in negative and positive ways. There are examples of both sides of the argument here, both advocating for piracy and showing the negative ways that it affects our lives.

Thank you for reading,

Herrick Erickson-Brigl

Cheers!

***

If you liked reading this blog, check Herrick Erickson-Brigl out on Twitter, or friend him on facebook if you like. Also, to your right you will find the first three chapters of his book, "A Scholar's Journey: The Divine Tempest", listed under the "Pages" section. It will be available May 15th in hard copy and ebook formats.

Twitter: www.Twitter.com/Hericksonbrigl

Facebook: www.facebook.com/herrick.brigl

Currently listening to "Use it" by 28 Days

If you have any private comments, concerns, or suggestions for Herrick. You can contact him at blog.fantasyaction@gmail.com

***

All pictures and information are the property of their respective owners.

Is innovative game play a dieing breed?

2011-04-25T15:07:00.000-07:00

Since its inception in the late 1900s, the game industry has been a booming hub of innovation. It has been the inspiration for new ideas and creations in the military, advertising, and even the movie industry. Recently, multiple games across many platforms feel like versions of another that is already out. Is the need to make money replacing the need to create innovative game play?

Rebecca Black's song "Friday" was the definition of a breakout hit. It was the #1 downloaded song on iTunes. This song was undeniably popular, for the wrong reasons and the people who want her to fail are responsible for her success. Rebecca Black made money, now has a record deal (you heard me correctly), and an agent.

Just as Rebecca Black will likely come out with another "Hit", using the same stale style, the same is true of some games that have come out recently. Though the games are not bad, they are not great either. The problem stems from a lack of innovation and a reliance on dated game designs. There are many notable exceptions to this rule however, and I want to stress this before I continue.

Blizzard is the current king of MMOs (World of Warcraft) and refined game play (Starcraft 2). They will not put a game out, until it is ready, following the motto "It is done when it is done". Some of you are going to talk about the bugs in the release version of Cataclysm and rightfully so. But, but the changes to the world of World of Warcraft were so dramatic and sweeping, that a 200+ person team of QA testers and 10,000+ beta testers could not possibly hope to find every bug, that 15 million people stumbled on repeatedly, during the first day of release. Remember that before you complain about this corporation’s standards.

Admittedly, Blizzard has actually done some very funny game play tricks over the years, designed to manipulate the player's opinions about certain game play elements. In the beta, Blizzard wanted to discourage players from nonstop play. Call it health reasons or money reasons. That is up for you to decide and I will not speculate. In order to discourage people from playing World of Warcraft too much, Blizzard gave the player a 50% experience debuff after a certain amount of continuous game play time had elapsed. If you turned the game off or played a different character, the debuff disappeared. People were pissed, since they were being punished for playing a game. So, rather than be hard headed, Blizzard’s game designers shrugged their shoulders, got rid of the debuff entirely, doubled the overall experience to get to level 60, and gave everyone a constant 100% base experience gain. Here is the catch. If you walked away from the game for a short period or played a different character, you would accumulate a 200% experience buff, equated to the amount of time you were away. It is the same thing with only minor tweaks and is still around to this day.

What? Is this one of those crazy internal leaks we keep hearing about? No, this is straight from a talk by Rob Pardo at GDC San Francisco, the executive vice president of game design at Blizzard Entertainment. This follows their policy of "make it a bonus" and it is the very definition of this game play philosophy.

Am I angry about this benign trick? Nope. Actually, I applaud Blizzard for paying attention to their consumer base and giving them what they wanted, while still achieving roughly the same end result. Me thinks the guy/gal who came up with that deserves a medal, a raise, and a high five.

I am not defending Blizzard either. The controversial changes to the game play, with the evolution of expansions (Burning Crusade, Wrath of the Lich King, and Cataclysm) have taken the macro/micro of leveling to 60+ and replaced it with a linear quest grind to 85, to experience end game content, arguably by some, where the game actually starts. Then, once you are there, the grind for emblems and gear continues to stay current.

I am absolutely guilty of being addicted to raiding. God almighty, it was so much fun to get together with my friends, tromp through an epic adventure in an instance, and come out on top. Blizzard, thank you so much for giving me that opportunity! It was well worth the eight hours I spent in there and I regret none of it. However, doing it again the following week, was eventually tiring and repetitive for me, ultimately causing me to quit. And, I was not one of those once a weekers. I actually got up to Ice Crown Citadel (or ICC), which was considered at the time to be end game raiding. (DPS Boomkin/super tree heals, top 4 dps in 25 man and main healer in some raids)

I am not the only one expressing these opinions, but to be fair massive groups of people love this game dynamic. I do not want to discourage it or disparage it, since this game play is a team activity that brings large groups of people together, thousands upon thousands of times a week (if not a day), and I do not know of many other games that can manage this.

Where I find fault with the system is two fold. The first occurs when a player absolutely must stay current on gear to experience any new content. The second occurs when certain pieces of gear are only accessible when a player goes through an instance three or four times (completely) for emblems. Even then, only one piece of gear is possible to be bought, only to find out that four months later, those pieces of gear are obsolete and he/she has to start again.

The biggest problem I see with little tricks like this is that these have become more common. This stems from the need to first create loyal consumers and innovative game play second. If you create happy consumers, money will follow and you company will be successful, but only if you have smart business practices backing your company. However, what we have in some cases is smart business practices making game play decisions. So, innovative game play becomes risky. Thus, smart business practices are dictating that rehashed game play designs get used for the end result of making money and that is unacceptable.

Granted, I know this makes me sound a bit like an idealist...were you expecting a caveat?

As a final note: Despite how much money Blizzard makes a month, they still run a business and must make money to stay a float. Much of the many millions they make a month goes right back into making more games that are as polished as the last. They have noticeably put a great amount of effort towards their player base with the creation of Blizzcon, encouraging memes like Leroy Jenkins or Scourge chat, and the extensive customer service department. It is my belief that they deserve the money they are being paid. First, to upkeep their current games. Second, to create new ones for you to play.

Thank you for reading,

Herrick Erickson-Brigl

Cheers!

***

If you liked reading this, follow my blog, check me out on twitter, or let's be friends on facebook. Also, check out the first three chapters of my book "A Scholar's Journey: The Divine Tempest" listed on the right under the "Pages" section. It will be out May 15, available online in hard copy and ebook formats.

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Hericksonbrigl
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/herrick.brigl

Currently listening to: Friday (cover) by Kyle Puccia
Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iw8IEd3LDzg
http://www.kylepuccia.com/

Questions, comments, or concerns? My e-mail is blog.fantasyaction@gmail.com

***

All pictures and information are the property of their respective owners.

Why has Square Enix had poor story recently?

2011-04-20T16:10:00.000-07:00

Since final fantasy X, many Square/Enix brand name games have had have had sub par story. To be clear, not every game. The Kingdom Hearts games as a whole weave an intricate and often intriguing story. Batman: Arkham Asylum was undeniably a fun experience for me, since I am a big comic fan. Dragon Quest is simple and alluring. These are just a few and there are others that I was quite enamored with.

So, what changed? Why did Square Enix's undeniable ability to create epic sweeping story, become mired by convolution for some of their flagship titles?

Many of Square Enix's games include extensive work on the back story and as a writer myself, I know this is important. For my first book, I probably wrote just as many words on the back story, as I wrote in the actual book. I did this to establish the world for myself, so it would be believable to the reader, and be communicated in my writing style. The problem occurs when the writer expects the reader to know all the back story, when they start playing the game or pick up the book. In my opinion, this is what happened in 3rd Birthday.

I recently finished playing 3rd Birthday. The game play kept me playing to the end. Why? It freaking rocked! If I was to review this, I would give the game 10/10 for game play. The story was another beast entirely. It follows Aya Brea as she combats the "Twisted" and the "High Ones" by using an ability called overdrive. The ideas were rather simple, these things called the twisted are "Bad" and the high ones are really just another version of the "Twisted", but are more dangerous. The problems arise with Aya's personal story and how it interrelates to the rest of the story.

I'm going to try and simplify this, so for those of you that have played the game, bear with me.

*Spoilers*

The twisted attack the world and Aya has to go back in time to stop them by taking over the minds of soldiers and using them like puppets. Aya's co-workers are killed by either her boss or the twisted and disappear from time completely. A guy who we find out later is her husband, tries to kill her. Aya sees flashbacks of herself killing another person (her sister). This girl is named Eve and she shows up a lot. Aya's old boss comes back as a boss monster. Aya kills her boss, he disappears from time, then reappears, and Aya finds out he wants to rule all of time. Aya kills him again, then he disappears, then comes back to talk to Aya and tell her she needs to kill this girl Eve, who is her sister. Aya sees more flashbacks of killing Eve. Then her co-workers show, who disappeared from reality. Now, they are going to help her kill her old boss. Aya successfully kills her old boss, by sacrificing her co-worker's souls. Aya appears at "Time Zero" when she kills/killed her sister (it was confusing). Time zero was never hinted at until the latter part of the game and even then it was sparsely explained. You don't find out, until the very end of the game that this is when the twisted were created. "Time Zero" is code for the day Aya killed/kills her sister (a bit more of explanation earlier on, without exposition would have been suitable). Aya's sister jumps into her body to "Save her" and shatters Aya's soul. Eve is apparently Aya. When Eve destroyed her sister's soul, she caused the fragments of Aya's soul to scatter across time, creating the twisted in the process So, Eve shoots Aya in the chest and that is where I stopped. (The cinematic is 20+ minutes long)

Confused? I was.

The problem? The writers got too close to the story. They never accounted for the user not understanding all of their labels. I still don't know what the difference between a twisted and a high one (possibly, bigger twisted). Just explaining a bit of information here and there, through game play, not exposition would have created a compelling story. Instead, what we get is a story that is convoluted, hard to understand, mired in overly long cut scenes, and over complicated, interconnected, relationships that are not fully fleshed out in the twelve hours of game play (give or take).

I will offer a few solutions now. Providing all the information subtly in bits and pieces would solve this problem. Load screens are unavoidable, so providing a text explanation that related directly to bits and pieces of the story, while the player waits, would fill the time excellently. Personally, I'm not a fan of game dictionaries. I think they demand too much of the player, but if the game is too complicated to include everything, this might be necessary. However, if your game requires that the player read the dictionary, then your story is far too complicated. Putting out a book at the same time as the game, as a prequel would also work, setting up the world eloquently and being tertiary at the same time (good job Bioware). Another thing that is extremely hard to do, is telling the player exactly what the spoiler is, without revealing it. Tell too much and the shock is gone. Tell too little and the player is confused. There is a very delicate balance to achieve.

Thank you for reading,

Herrick Erickson-Brigl -

P.S. Strangely, I never questioned the overdrive ability. It was just too cool. I have no other explanation.

Cheers!

***

If you liked reading this, follow my blog, check me out on twitter, or let's be friends on facebook. Also, check out the first three chapters of my book "A Scholar's Journey: The Divine Tempest" listed on the right under the "Pages" section. It will be out May 15 and available online in hard copy and ebook formats.

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Hericksonbrigl
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/herrick.brigl

Currently listening to: No More Love by Emphatic
http://www.myspace.com/emphaticonline

Questions, comments, or concerns? My e-mail is blog.fantasyaction@gmail.com

The Barbarian's Love

2011-04-17T22:08:00.000-07:00

There was a steady thumping that was coming from war drums in the distance. It filled the small town with tidings of blood and violence, not far behind. The city was deserted for precisely this reason. If a person were to travel the town, they would find empty buildings, shadowed by other crumbling structures. Everything in the town appeared broken and in disrepair, though once it had been stately and noble. These buildings were shaking with each beat of the drums and dust fell steadily.

Among the large buildings that populated the city streets, there was one, unlike all the rest. It was a poor man's house, a hovel. From the singular window in the front, a warm homely light shone from within. Anyone knew that these folk were richer than any that once lived in the other buildings. What they lacked in monetary riches, they more than made up in other ways.

Tonight, that beautiful house was rife with sorrow. A singular reminder of the war march outside.

Inside, there was a woman crying in a chair. She sobbed into her frayed shawl and her body was shaking with distraught. She removed her hands from her face and revealed a wrinkled face, creased with years of laughter and happiness. Her hair was long, brown, and streaked with grey. Despite her age, she had a timeless beauty about her. It was as if she could pluck at your heart strings with a laugh and cause pangs of longing with a look. Yet, her cheeks were stained with tears that flickered in the firelight, like miniature stars.

“No!” the old woman said in a hushed whisper that carried throughout the room, despite the thumping beat outside that intruded even now. It was a harsh reminder of the war that bloomed not so far away. “You cannot go. Without you, I do not know if I can…” she trailed off as her voice shook with fear.

Across from her was bear of a man, easily a head taller than most men. He was shirtless, with a smooth hairless chest, and when he moved, every muscle rippled with exertion, mere whispers of his massive strength. His entire body was covered with scars from past battles and across his chest was a long vertical scar that left its imprint permanently on him. He had a beard that was well trimmed into a point at a hand's length below his chin. His pure grey head of hair was long and fell down to his shoulders, held together by blue ribbons of silk, like tiny vines. His back was draped with a long braided pony tail, neatly bound by the same ribbons.

The warrior’s eyes crinkled up painfully as he tried to come up with words to express how he felt. He was a man of few words. But, even if he was extroverted, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. His decision had already been made.

“I do not have anyone left. You are my world.” she cried and jumped out of her chair towards him, sending it flying back against the wall. “I cannot lose you!” she yelled and ran forward. “They are all gone, all of them, every last one, killed by those, things. If you leave, I will be alone.” Her fists banged into his muscled chest repeatedly and age had not dulled her strength.

His old craggy face scrunched into a sad smile, “You know I do not want war.” he said apologetically, speaking for the first time.

“Then do not go at all!” her old voice cracked with denial, “Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Is that why you leave me now? Is it because we are not with child?”

Spears, swords, clubs, and other weapons had graced this warrior's skin, each, leaving its imprint forever on him. And never had he felt as much pain as he felt now, “No, I never…” he said as he tried to speak what he was feeling. Tears welled up from within his old eyes as the wizened man desperately searched for a way to express himself. What he could not say with words, he said with actions. The old warrior pulled her close with his massive bulging arms and crushed her to his chest with furious passion. Then, he looked down at her and kissed her mightily, silently communicating that she was his everything.

They both experienced the time they had spent together in a flash. From the first time they met, to now. Neither he, nor she regretted any of it.

The lovers did not breath, capturing the moment and hoping it would last forever. With moments like this, trapped in time, they never last long enough, ephemeral and beautiful.

He nuzzled her and pulled away ever so slightly, his forehead touched hers, “I am s…” he started to say as.

She brought an aged finger up to his lips, “Hush. Don't you dare. Give them a piece of the hell they have sown upon our land. Wrap them in your fury and cage them in your anger. Dig into the animal within and throw it furiously upon them. Slay them for me and every life they ruined.” The old woman’s anguish and desperation from before was replaced by vigor and intensity. Her eyes held him with a power that was beyond this world and bound him to a fiery oath of love.

The barbarian leaned in and kissed her again. His pointed beard brushed her face.

Her wrinkled lips returned the kiss two fold and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Their tears mingled together in the embrace and when he pulled away, her hand lingered on his cheek for a hair’s breath.

“I only have one war left in me.” The warrior said and his voice quaked with sorrow.

“No, come back to me alive. We still have time yet.” she whispered into his ear. Then, reached behind her head and pulled off a necklace from under her shirt. It was modestly hidden for a reason. The jewelry was a brilliant blue sapphire, cut into the shape of a small dagger, easily worth a lifetime of work in a field. She placed it around his muscled neck, “Bring this back to me.” she said.

The barbarian nodded curtly to her and reached down. His hand found the handle of a small wood cutting axe. It was swallowed up by his grip, so massive was his palm. He took his other hand and ran it through her hair loving as he kissed her passionately, one last time. He turned towards the exit and started to duck through the entryway. His head turned one last time and he locked eyes with his love. A mental picture he would keep for as long as he lived; her strikingly beautiful face, the curve of her body, and those intelligent captivating eyes. His thumb and forefinger rubbed the necklace reassuringly.

No more tears were shed as they said their silent goodbye. The warrior left without another word and walked down the cobble stone road. The necklace was firmly grasped in his hand and the pointed edge drew a small drop of blood from his tightly clenched fist.

The old woman followed him outside and watched him go, long after he was out of sight, silently hoping he would come back, but knowing he she would never see him again. “Woe betides the first foe that feels your fury, my love. And let the glory of your death live on in memory, well after your death.” Strangely, she felt no grief for his passing, only pride, “Do me proud.”

Poetry

2011-04-16T20:20:00.000-07:00

These are a few poems I wrote and that I want to share.

This was written about the emotions I feel every time I give a flower or a gift to a girl.

--The Rose--

By Herrick Erickson-Brigl

Green shaft neutral and fane

Darling petals soft and fond

Devils dance on sharp of point

Dreams teeter on hellish tips

Hopes rest on petaled lips

Wishes ride on fears unwritten

A thought and reverie yet unspoken

Can a man give to a woman

Piece of mind through gifted emotion

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This kind of came out of nowhere, but I hope it works.

--Unbeakable--

By Herrick Erickson-Brigl

Heart and shatter woven in flame

Passions burn with the forgotten and insane

Fear of life brings joy and sorrow

Known to all, but bound by nothing

Grow to be, what cannot be seen

Know your place, not in the steps of others

But, walking forward, into the light

Broken beaten bloody and tears.

Standing there yet unbeaten

Holding your fear of victory

You are unbreakable

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This was written about a girl I knew a while back.

--Nocturnia--

By Herrick Erickson-Brigl

Ne’er below the surface these things I write

Lovely cupid, red hair in flight

You wake me in the dark

Restless thoughts and lack of sleep

Regret the past my actions deemed

Now you stand just beyond sight

I question what my actions bring.

Can you care for what I feel

Who I am and what I will

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This is one of those poems that is so personal I am hesitant to put it out. But, I am because I want to share a piece of myself. It was written when I was in a pretty dark place and I have moved well past it now.

--Drone--

By Herrick Erickson-Brigl

I am so scared and angry, this life I live

Pushed and pressed, I am not this man

This drone is so empty.

No emotion can be found in this prison cell

Break away and be more than expectation

Make something more, to expel emotion

That is what they say

Compelling reasons that hold no sway

I hurt and wonder why I stay

But all I feel is my mind breaking

Is this my dream? Hurting for just another breath?

Hurt my friends? Hurt my family? Hurt my dream?

Why am I here? Why am I here? Why am I here?

I feel so ugly inside,

---------------------------------------

This one was just fun! I like writing imagery.

--The evil things—

By Herrick Erickson-Brigl

There are dark things

Far more than just a thought

They jump and skitter

Left and right

You will not like

Their evil might

They will take and plunder

They will rape and murder

Nothing will be left

Of your fallen brethren

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A Scholar's Journey: Writing Schedule and release dates

2011-04-15T09:47:00.000-07:00

A Scholar's Journey: Writing Schedule and release dates:

A Scholar's Journey: The Divine Tempest --- Chapters 1-3

2011-04-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is a work in progress and is not reflective of the final product!

“We know the abyss exists. Rituals our magi performed revealed as much. What little knowledge we have is both unverifiable and not entirely trustworthy. Unfortunately, the sheer volume of references, across multiple cultures, cannot be ignored and they fill me with dread. These writings detail a never ending darkness or an abyss if you will. It is a prison and a place where evil lies shackled and dormant. Can this gateway be opened? Fortunately, no way has been found yet and I believe doom sleeps within its hollow walls, scratching for a way out.”

Aran the Grey,

Current acting leader of the Pentacle

Chapter 1: The Number of the Beast

There was a place where mistakes were pushed away and forgotten. Dark and hidden away, off limits to everyone and everything in the multiverse, escape was impossible for prisoners and entrance was almost improbable. Light shined from an unknown source high above and lit up the dim perpetual darkness with an eerie light that hid horrors just out of sight within the perpetual fog. Occasionally, quick skitters that clacked against the hardened ground and quick flitting movements were just visible to appear as flashing shadows against the grey backdrop.

A figure was standing in full view and contrasted starkly with the rest of the scenery. Unlike the obscured dark outlines that hinted at a grim populace within this dark realm, the figure was a creature of the light. It floated unerringly down its invisible path.

The being's body was made entirely out of glowing yellow energy and wore the armor of a warrior. Its head and arms were made of crackling orbs of energy, while its body was covered by a metal chest piece that turned into a flowing warrior's kilt at its waist that dusted the ground. Its head and arms were like miniature suns that were suspended mid air and were connected by golden strands of energy. The breastplate was stamped with an insignia of a double-headed golden war hammer.

The entire realm gave it a wide birth, creatures in the fog did not impede it and the mist that pervaded the realm avoided the Spartan's presence.

Finally, after floating for many minutes, the Spartan stopped and spoke in a deep voice that echoed like it originated in a cave, “I have come for the vaedziur Kestrel.” it said purposefully.

There was a flurry of movement. Multiple claws scratched at the outlining aura around the Spartan, but stopped immediately thereafter.

A path in the mist appeared before the Spartan, leading it towards a red figure, suspended in the distance.

The Spartan floated down the given path and it arrived at its destination.

There was a creature suspended off the ground by chains of divine energy continued into the gray sky and disappeared from view. A familiar mark branded the chains; it was the same war hammer on the visitor's chest piece.

The creature hanging by the chains was almost humanoid. Its frame was squat, sinewy, and laced with long powerful muscles. The imps Red skin was scaled and dotted with patched of feathers intermittently. The creature's legs were long, likened to a frog, powerful muscled machines built for springing, and landing, they were stretched almost straight by its chains and caused the creature perpetual discomfort. Its face was large and expressive, with smooth scales that curved upwards along a horn rimmed face. Two large expressive round eyes that were as big as a man's fist, stared at its visitor intently. The creature's mouth was large and stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone with exposed long angular sadistic rotting teeth that over its lower lip. Large curling horns floated just off its head and remained in orbit perpetually, like a garish spiked crown of bone. The single wing that poked out from its back drooped from disuse, the muscles that once powered this majestic appendage were atrophied and holes dotted the membrane of the wing, making the once regal appearance sad and decrepit. On the other side of the creatures back, exactly opposite of the atrophied wing was a curious sight to behold, a bleeding stump where an appendage was missing. Jagged, claw marks raked across the stump, like rivulets, marking it as a sight of a repeated wound that was still bleeding. It was lost glory with a crown of thorns.

“Oh me oh my! A servant to visit little old me! Why are you here puppet of the golden god?” the imp spoke in a gravely malicious voice with a slight hint of insanity.

“The divine hammer decreed we seek your counsel." the Spartan responded in the same its hollow sounding voice

“You seek my counsel? After what your ilk did to us, to me? Our imprisonment has gone on too long for forgiveness!” Kestrel snarled from his chains.

The Spartan did not speak for a moment as it weighed what it was about to say, “Do you desire freedom?” it asked finally.

Kestrel struggling against the chains that bound him with a titanic effort that shook the realm itself, he roared in anger and his mouth opened, unhinged and caused his mouth to open almost vertical to reveal rows on rows of jagged teeth, “You would let the living blood tide free? Do you comprehend the torment I will bring with my brothers and sisters? Your world will be wiped clean, all traces that make it unique will be erased, and we will return it to the original fabric from which it was made! This I promise.” he howled and then collapsed back into the embrace of his chains.

“Dol'Ron has granted me his omniscient grace to free you and in return you will be given the opportunity to set your people free of their shackles.” the Spartan offered.

Kestrel smiled evilly, “Is this real? Are you offering us the chance to remove our bindings? Is this a cosmic joke?” it examined the Spartan for a brief moment and its humorless demeanor diminish. “Hmmm, what if you are telling the truth?” the vaedziur said slyly and its wide alien eyes narrowed sinisterly.

The Spartan bowed its head again, “Your vessel will be our Speaker, Diametries Malus Aequitas. He has been informed of the sacrifice he shall make and has begun preparations for the first step of the ritual to remove the gate guardian from service to free your people.” the Spartan uttered gravely.

“My, you are thorough; one would almost think that this was planned.” Kestrel cackled approval.

The Spartan raised an arm of energy and pointed in Kestrel's direction. The war hammers that were stamped on the chains that held Kestrel glowed brightly and then with a crash, they shattered, sprinkling the ashen ground with glowing particles that disappeared moments later.

Kestrel landed with catlike grace. Many millennia of imprisonment had not dulled his reactions. The vaedziur prowled towards Dol'ron's Servant and the ground burned with smoldering black fire where it stepped.

“Will I have the guidance of Dol'Ron, so that I do not die when I pass between realms?” Kestrel asked.

“You have his blessing.” the Spartan responded.

The imp carefully traced the Spartans armor with one of its wicked claws and dug one of his nails cleanly through the servant of Dol'Ron's chest plate with ease, “I can kill you now.” Kestrel said with playful sadistic pleasure.

The Spartan was stoic and unmoving.

“Send me to the city of the damned and I will perform the ritual to unbind my people.” Kestrel commanded and removed his claw.

One orb of energy from the Spartan's arm floated out and expanded into a flat plane, till it was a perfect flat circle, then it began to swirl in on itself and revealed on the other side that it was a portal suspended high in the sky of a different realm. It looked down on a healthy rolling forest that came up to a large white mountain, and a city in the distance.

Kestrel smiled with barely contained enthusiasm in his large oval eyes. He sprang towards the open portal, but stopped halfway through. Both clawed hands rested on the rims of the gateway and burned at the portal where they touched it, “The benefits that my people reap are evident, but what does your god hope to gain with the destruction of the mortal realm?” Kestrel asked with surprising insight.

The Spartan held its tongue.

“Of course, Dol'Ron cannot act directly outside its mandate. Your god can however close its eyes to injustice. And, so it seems justice is blind.” Kestrel said astutely and then he jumped through the portal. On the other side the vaedziur transformed into a large black shade, and the only evidence of Kestrel's passing was the shadow that swept over the clouds below him.

The Spartan broke contact with the portal, “Lead me to the triumvirate of the vaedziur people. We have much to discuss.” the Spartan said to the mist around him. It parted to reveal a new path and the Spartan left as the mist closed behind him.

The portal was still closing, even when the Spartan was long gone. The denizens of this plane of existence knew full well that to pass beyond it would mean certain death if they were not guarded by the will of a deity.

A new figure materialized next to the portal. It was a monk in long flowing robes that glittered like the stars of the night sky. Its hood was pulled down in such a way that nothing could be seen inside except for piercing forest green eyes.

The monk raised a robed arm and a pure white mist flowed out to form the vague outline of a body that hovered just in front of the odd monk.

The mist went down on one knee in respect and exited through the portal just like Kestrel had done.

The monk bowed its head and disappeared back into the mist silently.

---

Sunlight streamed through the trees and caused the dew to sparkle in the morning rays. Birds started chirping as the light graced their feathers and a shining rainbow lit up the forest vibrantly. A tribute to the rising twin suns of Therra; the bigger yellow one named Sol and the smaller red one Sul.

A falcon was sitting in its nest preening its white and speckled brown feathers as it prepared for the morning hunt. It looked to the sky and watched as the twin suns crested the horizon and flapped its wings experimentally. The bird of prey keened into the crisp morning air and took off towards the clouds. It flew higher and higher, till it could see the entire land.

Below was a rolling forest that stretched out into the distance. It was populated with all sorts of animals and magic beasts known as kirin. Close by was a tall majestic white stone mountain. It was situated next to a large city. This was the falcon’s main hunting grounds.

The city was enclosed on all sides by an unnaturally perfect circular wall that was made from smooth white stone. The structure was populated by three circular grooves in the ground of the city; these were connected by three smaller circles that connected to each other at the center of the city, where a large tower rose up like a monolith to a lost civilization.

Unlike the roads, walls, and the tower, the other buildings were a motley assortment of houses. They were made out of an assortment of materials and the buildings dotted the city streets compactly.

Near the western section of the city was a large open wound in the ground, it was as if a titanic force had ripped the ground open from beneath, and revealed a dark chasm below.

The falcon’s sharp eyes spotted its meal for the day and focused its attention on a small mouse that was gobbling up cheese greedily next to a potted plant on a window sill.

The falcon dived through the clouds as it rocketed towards its prey. Just before impact it let out an ear shattering keen, extended its wings and thrust out its claws to scoop up the mouse. The little rodent was killed instantly and the falcon had its meal for the day as it flew into the new dawn.

---

“As a magician gets older magic builds up in their bones and ultimately transfers to their lineage in surprising ways. The offspring of magi are gifted with subtle magic abilities. These manifest in a variety of ways, however the most common is the ability to sense emotions over great distances from powerful magic forces and to see the links between kirin and their masters. Some rare cases exhibit more than one of these abilities. This is rare though, for a child must have parentage of potent magic might. Do not envy these children. They will forever be magnets for forces beyond their ken.”

Kasheen Maizen,

Professor at the pentacle

Chapter 2: Brand New Day

The rays of the sun burned at Kestrel’s shade form painfully. He searched the ground desperately for a temporary host. As he flew over the rolling forest countryside towards the city. His dark presence passed over the tops of the trees and flashed up and down with the height of the foliage.

Kestrel saw something that intrigued him as he flew that earned a closer look.

A huge obsidian furred creature lumbered through the woodlands on all fours. It had the shape of a man, but was nearly twice as tall and three times as bulky.

Kestrel swooped down and enveloped the giant in his shadowed form and embraced it silently as their wills melded together.

Moments later the dark hulk stood up and a sadistic smile lined with ivory teeth split its face in a crescent moon, “Diametriessssssss.” Kestrel said ominously from within his new body. Then, he bounded towards the white stone city and disappeared with a rustle.

---

The realm of dreams was still.

The dreamer tossed in his sleep as the veil was lifted and the portents were revealed in full.

Something was coming. A righteous presence opened a wall and gave birth to an evil that raked across the unconscious mind like a rusty blade. It was a thing of crimson grasping claws and malicious intent that was headed straight for Deiyil. It was getting closer and closer.

Another personality emerged from the mists shrouded in white with piercing green eyes. This was one of mystery and veiled intent as it followed close behind its dangerous brethren.

The red clawed shade swooped away and disappeared from view.

Suddenly, the dreamer became intimately aware that he had been spotted. Two green eyes turned and rushed towards him. They seemed to envelop his entire world as they reached out. The dreamer looked for an escape and it was as if all was lost when he was thrust from sleep into the waking world by a high pitched scream.

---

Penndarius was thrust from sleep by a high pitched keen followed by a loud crash on his windowsill. He blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the morning light and looked over at the bird just outside, “Good morning to you too.” he grumbled.

The falcon looked over and blinked at Penndarius.

“Well? That is breakfast right?” he asked.

The bird glanced down at its meal and took off into the sky, leaving Penndarius thoroughly startled, with the beginnings of a headache.

It took Penndarius a few moments to get it together. He wiped tears of sleep from his eyes, yawned, then looked around and sniffed the sleep away. Penndarius swung his legs out of the bed, threw the covers on the ground, stretched, and stood up. The rich redwood paneled floors let out a homely creek.

The twin suns, Sol and Sul shone through the window, Penndarius scowled up at the light, “Ugh, my head.” he groaned and ran his hands through his hair.

The room was modest. There was a dresser on one side, a bed under the window that was across from the door and a desk on the remaining wall.

The dresser was made from a matching redwood paneling and it was mounted with a mirror that was large enough for Penndarius to see the top half of his body in. A razor rested on a bowl filled with water for shaving.

The razor and the mirror were not uncommon. With the evolution and understanding of magic, these kinds of implements and the materials used to make them were becoming common place, instead of rare collectibles.

Penndarius turned his head from side to side and examined the stubble that had grown over night. His jaw was relatively square with an intelligent angle to it that was coupled with a slightly facetious lilt to his smile. His skin was pale from working inside and there were laugh lines engraved into his face with a sparkle of intelligence that was well hidden. He was a bit taller than most and was average built. But, the highlight of his face was the serious and inquisitive eyes that seemed to hold insight of one well past his years.

Penndarius dipped his razor into the water basin on the desk and scooped some lather into his hand. He applied it liberally to his face and proceeded to shave. He also multitasked simultaneously by brushing his hair. A few quick swipes with both and he was almost ready.

The door flew open with a loud slam. The sudden interruption startled Penndarius and he almost cut his cheek.

“Rise and shine Penn me boy!” an older man yelled from the doorway. He was short with stout broad shoulders. His skin was browned with a deep tan from working outdoors. Deep bawdy Laugh lines formed on his face in deep creases like small craggy hills and always looked like he was two beers short of a broader smile. Around his waist was a bartender's apron over a plain white shirt and long brown britches.

“Douglas I almost slit my own throat!” Penndarius yelled in protest.

“Aye, that might have helped your mood if it carved a smile into yer mug.” Douglas said with a hearty laugh. He leaned in and examined Penndarius's face, “Ye all right lad? Ye look like ye been touched by the other side.”

“I had an avian visitor that decided to hunt for mice in my potted plants this morning.” Penndarius smiled with a tired laugh.

“Aye, they be partnerin’ with Roses now a days. They can be mighty feisty creatures me boy, never underestimate them, sneaky bastards, always lying in soil. Mark my words boy, thems be the harbingers of doom.” Douglas responded teasingly.

“The world is ending and me without any clothes yet. Is there anything else?” Penndarius asked with a facetious grin.

“Came to talk to my friend Penndarius Grey…” Douglas stopped as if he was trying to remember something.

“Greyson, we agreed not to use my full name. It reminds me of my father.” Penndarius said sternly.

“Yer pa made sure ye were well taken care of, that meant somethin' don' it?” Douglas asked honestly.

“He and I have a relationship that works with distance.” Penndarius sighed.

“Aye, I get the hint. Before I go, what ye got planned fer the day?” Douglas asked.

“You know the scar right?” Penndarius responded as he started getting clothes out of the dresser.

“Freaky place that. Always gives me the chills, like somethin’ be breathin’ under there.” Douglas said with a shiver.

“Well, there is a team investigating it and I have been trying to get in for months. They finally got back to me the other day and want a tracing of one tablet deciphered. I did it and sent it in. Apparently, my first translation was good enough that they sent me another. The training I have with ancient languages comes in handy, since none of his current team has any idea of what this thing says.” Penndarius said with self admiration as he looked at the fruits of his labors.

“That what you been working on lad?” Douglas asked. “I been wondering where you had gone.”

The scholar’s desk was a disorganized mess, spread over three tiers and into four drawers that were so full that they could not close with scattered parchments, notes, and other oddities from past and present projects.

“What is it boyo? Looks like a bunch o'gibberish to me lad, cannot make no sense o'it.” Douglas said as he looked over the scholar’s work, mainly the current ones from the tracing.

Penndarius pointed to different markings, “It appears that tablets like the one this was taken from were made to store the knowledge of an entire lost civilization. But, they left enough reference material behind for people like me to decipher some of the contents,” Penndarius circled parts of the tracing with his finger as he explained, “this references Deiyil,” he pointed at another part of the tablet, “these markings here are landmarks in what I think were also Deiyil thousands of years ago. For example, here is place we dubbed the Living Tower that they call the stone tree. Long ago it held a great amount of ritualistic significance.”

“That be some pretty 'eavy stuff lad.” Douglas remarked as he scrutinized the scholar’s work. “How do ye feel about it?”

“It was a bunch o'gibberish.” Penndarius said sarcastically.

Douglas laughed and his beard shook with mirth, “Ha ha ha ha, well played lad. I can tell today's gonna' be a good day fer ye. Have some fun with it! Speaking of fun,” he leaned over secretively, “ye gonna find yersef' a lady friend?” he leered at Penndarius in a comical lecherous way. “Yeah? Yeah? Have a little fun?”

“Get out.” Penndarius chuckled under his breath. “I have to go meet Ed and Gale.”

“Gale?” Douglas asked with a prodding grin.

“Get out.” Penndarius pushed him towards the door.

“Ye get yerself down fer breakfast. I aint gonna have ye goin out on an empty stomach.” Douglas said as he stomped out.

Penndarius laughed to himself as he closed the door. Then, he went about his business and began the last of his preparations. He grabbed his satchel off a nearby stool and carefully wrapped his notes and the tracing in linen before he stuffed them away into his bag.

As he left the room Penndarius looked down the hall and saw three dark hooded figures clad in black cloaks. They had hoods up that hid their features and each wore a silver moon and star pendants on their lapels that contrasted sinisterly with their outfits. The scholar’s keen eye caught the bulges under their cloaks and knew they were carrying weapons. He shrugged and headed towards the stairs.

One of the shady men signaled the others and they headed after the scholar, careful to not be conspicuous.

Penndarius was almost to the stairs when he heard crashing coming from within the adjacent room. Inside, there was a man struggling against an unknown horror on the floor and he was crying out in pain. The young scholar opened the door and entered.

The curtains were drawn over the windows and some light filtered in through the gloom. Dust hung in the air and the scattered particles sparked off the streaming light.

The room was setup like Penn's as well, with a dresser on one side, a bed across from the door, and a desk on the other wall.

The man kept convulsing on the ground and he rolled back and forth in agony as he fought creatures and monsters in the shadowed realm of dreams.

The stranger’s fight against his nightmare reminded Penndarius of his experience not long before. The scholar sprung forward, “Hey! Come on, wake up.” he yelled and straddled the man.

It was not easy for Penndarius to hold him down. He was far stronger than a normal man, despite his sinewy stature. The scholar could only ride it out as he tried to keep the horrors of fantasy from becoming permanent damage to the room or worse the dreamer.

---

“The Mortalitas assassins exist in the darkest confines of the highest societies. Our numbers are few and our clients are many. We use assassins of both genders, male and female. If you can kill efficiently, skillfully, and silently, then you have what it takes to be one of us. The structure of our organization is rigid and strict. In command of our band of brothers is the Luna Mortalitas family, my family and our bloodline is very special. It gifts us with increased speed; strength, toughness, and we even regenerate wounds at a slightly increased rate. A warning of caution, if you meet one of my ilk in combat, run away if you see our eyes cry blood, for the beast has awakened from within and it cannot be controlled.”

Dayvion Luna Mortalitas,

Current leader of the Mortalitas assassins.

Chapter 3: Nightmare

There were eerie flickering shadows that played games across the walls with morning like demented puppets from the rising dawn. The curtains of the hallway moved and shifted with a slight breeze from the morning air. Slowly, the hallway was getting brighter as the suns outside, Sol and Sul rose higher in the sky.

There were many doors that scattered the hallway, without artistic motivations and efficiently designed to fit into straight sided hallway, made from solid and sturdy oak planks.

One door stood out. It was bigger than the rest and it was made from rich redwood. On the center was a golden plated metal hammer that was stamped into the wood. Another thing that made this door special was that unlike the others, two guards watched this door. They were dressed in white washed breast plate and a white stitched, gold edged tabard underneath. To complete their uniform, each had brown leather chaps. At the center of each of their breastplates was a single copper gavel, denoting their rank. And, they were board.

The dull white stone walls seemed to close in on them and threatened to nod them off to sleep.

Their boredom distracted them from details that were important to their very survival.

The light from the windows did not make it up to the rafters in the ceiling. There were long and thick wooden planks that lined the ceiling, supporting it. Dust twinkled at the top and drifted lazily.

They were so distracted that they miss the most important detail of all; an unwanted guest.

The first guard was thinner and had scraggly teeth, “Ow much we got lef' bucko?” he said in a high pitched annoying voice.

The other one was portly and squatter than his pal, “When are the boys come to 'elp. We goin 'ta have ter' do this all morning?” he asked.

“Aye, well at least until that busy body special doohickey inside o' here decides it be time ta head on out again.” the thinner man responded as he picked his teeth with a shard of wood.

“Them boys o'er near the gates be sayin' he be some special Speaker or something like that. Saying he be one of them higher ups in the order of Dol'Ron or some such duff'.” the portlier guard said in conversation.

“Oy! I heard o' them. There be eleven voices in total, one fer each god. I done read it in a book.” the thinner man said knowledgeably.

“When you ever read a book?” the portly guard ribbed his fellow.

“I got class, unlike ya self.” the thinner guard tried to make him look important by standing up straighter.

“What yer' book be sayin' then? Out with it.” his buddy said encouragingly.

“Said there be eleven of them fer each o' them gods, includin' ol' Dol 'imself, some kind o' special wagging mouth fer' them gods. Me reading be a bit lackin' so I did not understand it all.” he said, reciting what little he knew.

“Whenever the boys decide to come, you think we are goin' ta hafter do this ever' day?” the other more portly guard said and shrugged.

“Yer joshin. Who would believe yer crock of hoosits.” the portly one pushed his buddy just a bit and knocked him over to the side.

“Oy! Don' be looking to me fer yer answers, them be the breaks. Sides, don' matter none what them thinks o' what I think. Higher ups like Chancellor Mariweather and her bodyguard Lark believes 'em. That be why 'e gets 'is own room.” the skinny guard replied. The skinny guard looked over towards his friend that had been standing beside him. He was not there any more, “You playin' a game boyo?” he looked left and then right as he looked for his friend. At first he was smiling and then he realized that something was wrong. His search started to become more feverish and his eyes opened wide in alarm. His friend had not disappeared into thin air.

The guard scanned both sides of the hallway; the air was still and silent.

A creak sounded from above the guard, he looked upwards, and squinted his eyes to try to pinpoint where the sound had come from, “Izat you boyo?” he asked into the darkness.

There was a flitting movement that darted passed the corner of his eye, just above him, “Who's there!” he said frightfully.

He strained his eyes to look to the rafters. There was something there that he could not make out, “Whose is that?” he asked aloud.

The figure in the shadowed confines of the rafters rushed down and the last thing the guard recalled was a sinister ivory white smile that split its face in twain that was filled with long fangs.

---

Behind the ornate door was an office with four walls lined with redwood paneling and four massive beams that supported the corners of the room. It was as if the room had been prepared quickly. Rich furniture had been brought in. The drapes were ornate with golden threading throughout its fine silk. At the center, towards the back wall was a large desk. Multiple vellums and books that were kept in place by large obsidian and gold lined book ends. Ink quills had been setup and a writing mat was at its center.

A man who was wearing grey robes that were lined with golden silk, not unlike the drapes, that had runes and carvings of the god of Dol'Ron that dotted his clothing, and was standing with his hands clasped behind his back. His hair was long and kept together by two red ribbons in a neat pony tail. His face was smooth and calculating, his eyes watched the rising sun intently.

He turned around casually, walked around his desk, and looked up towards the rafters above him, "It is rude to enter another man's room without introducing yourself." he said calmly. His voice was rich and powerful, giving off the aura that this man was used to giving orders.

A dark obscured creature that was almost twice as tall as the man with the pony tail dropped down from the rafters. It landed on all fours. Its body was bulky and powerful, lined with rippling muscles. Despite its size, the creature landed with very little sound, absorbing the fall with a silent whisper.

It bared its fangs and in the still sparse light of dawn, its features remained obscured.

The pony tailed man stared back at him impassively and brought his hand to his mouth, he coughed slightly, "Excuse me. How rude of me, before we debate the natures of violence, I would like to introduce myself as is customary before a battle. My name is Diametries Malus Aequitas the first Speaker of Dol'Ron." he said almost too politely, "and yours fair creature?"

The creature did not respond with words, instead it slashed out with its powerful and mightier claws.

"How uncivilized, creature you will be fortunate to know your killer before you die." Diametries said and sidestepped with a simple grace, his foot traced the ground subtly and he avoided the attack entirely as he put his back to the desk.

The creature responded with a brutal downward fist smash.

The attack would have killed Diametries if he had not gracefully moved out of the way. Instead, the attack piled into the desk and collapsed it down the center into a broken V.

"You attack me without provocation, how uncivilized, though you give me license to act accordingly." Diametries said in a perturbed voice.

The creature turned on him and was ready to continue its assault.

Diametries clasped both hands in prayer, with his eyes still locked squarely on the attacking shadow creature, "By Dol'Ron's might, I call on the threads of justice, bind my foe to reap his justified reward." Diametries said piously.

Long thin golden threads that were made out of energy appeared out of thin air and shot towards the creature; they wrapped around its limbs and bound it. Where the threads touched, they paralyzed the creature fully.

It struggled for a few moments and when it realized that its struggles were futile it turned its gaze back to the Speaker. It bared its fangs in a satisfied grin, "Very well done. You will be a perfect vessel." it uttered in a gravelly growl.

Diametries turned his head to the side in bemused confusion, "Creature, who are you?" he started to ask, but the large creature, collapsed to the ground.

An even darker and more malevolent mist form flowed from the hulk's unconscious body. A single red wing extended from the shades human like body. The new perversion that had entered the room burrowed into Diametries's eye with a deep red gaze.

Diametries stared back unafraid, "I was warned of your coming. Do it." the Speaker said

The creature dived towards the Speaker and the golden threads disappeared completely from sight. Diametries slumped to the ground and did not move for a few moments.

After a few breaths, Diametries stood back up. A black outline extended out from his body, a single red wing. It dissipated slowly until it was gone altogether.

"You have a penchant for theatrics I see." Diametries said in congratulations. “My otherworldly contacts say that your people make contracts and they cannot be broken, no matter the cost to you. How did you break with that creature?" he asked inquisitively as he looked down at the still broken form of the hulk that was lying on his floor.

A hiss sounded from the dark silhouette, "Normally, here it was…intended to be temporary." it hissed sadistically so that only Diametries could hear in his mind.

Diametries wagged his head pensively, "I see, and the side affects?" he asked.

"Severing the spirit bond shatters the mind." the words echoed inside his head.

"I see, and our arrangement?" the Speaker asked.

"Your soul, body, and being are mine for the taking at the end of the day, until then you may use my power and knowledge as you see fit to act outside the will of your golden god." it responded excitedly. “Oh how I wish to be real!" Kestrel laughed maniacally. “Do you agree to the binding of our beings." it asked.

"I do." Diametries said to accept the agreement.

"Perfect, you are a vessel beyond compare my lord. Today, I am yours. Do with my power as you will." Kestrel said in a mock servile way. "Let us have some fun!" it said with raucous exuberance.

"Hold your tongue creature; I do not want you to distract me today." Diametries warned.

"Yes sire." it said mockingly. "My how the pious have fallen, to ally with one of my kind. The irony is almost poetic."

"My devotion to my god is unshakable; I would sacrifice my very being for his will. If I must lie in a bed of snakes and demons to do it, so be it." Diametries vowed vehemently. "Sadly, even the all father Dol'Ron only gives me the power to act within the bounds of his domain. To fulfill my goals today, I will need…assistance."

"You have the power that I grant for one day my lord. At the end, your essence, soul, body, and mind become mine and you will cease to exist." it said in a final warning.

Diametries turned abruptly, "When I communed with a representative of Dol'Ron he told me that you would know the rest of the steps of the ritual. Is this true creature?" he asked. "The first step was translated already and there are hints that there are two after that, they must be performed in order.” he said to Kestrel.

"That knowledge to free my people was engraved into my mind." Kestrel responded without a hint of humor in his voice.

When Kestrel spoke of freedom, Diametries snorted in soft derision, "Your people got what they deserved." Diametries said. "At least you are useful for something." Diametries turned his ear slightly at something near the curtains. "How long have you been here Dayvion?" Diametries asked and his golden etched robes swished along the ground.

A man who was clad in black flowing cloth that hung loosely along his sinewy frame stepped out from behind the curtain. He was a bit shorter than Diametries, but his silent way of walking gave the impression that he was naturally stealthy. His hair was a pale grey, almost white and shoulder length. It looked as if it had been haggard for some time and it had only recently been brushed and cleaned, causing it to frame his gaunt face jaggedly. His eyes flicked quickly from left to right as he took in his surroundings. There was certain cunning to the way he smiled. His chest was adorned with a simple silver moon that gleamed in contrast to his black clothed body, "Hmm, your senses are sensitive my lord, I am surprised that you heard me.” he said, obviously impressed just a little.

"How much of that did you see and hear?" Diametries asked with a sharp dangerous look that underlined the seriousness of the question.

Dayvion casually threw up his hands and shrugged his shoulders, "Enough, the spirits that you consort with are not any of my business.” he said uncaring.

"That is very professional assassin." Diametries spoke with a businesslike tone.

"This is just business." Dayvion said and matched the Speaker's tone with ease.

"Your people understand the risks?" Diametries asked as he carefully watched the assassin for his response.

"Always." Dayvion assented, "We have been informed of our roles today."

"You are certain your brother is here?" the Speaker asked.

Dayvion cocked his head to the side confidently and his long haggard hair passed before his eyes, "Without a doubt, we baited him to the city with whispers of my presence and we have already begun the process of luring him into the open.” he said confidently. "If I know him, he will not be able to resist getting involved." Dayvion stopped and thought for a brief moment and carefully chose was he was going to say next. "My lord, I have a word of caution about my brother Soren. He has a more colorful past than most of my family and this causes him to be more susceptible to the beast that rages throughout our bloodline. If you push him, be careful how far you go." Dayvion warned ominously.

The Speaker thought about what Dayvion said before responding, "I trust you know your brother assassin. Make sure it does not get to that point.” he commanded.

Dayvion bowed in recognition.

Diametries grimaced slightly, "On another note, there are still loose ends dangling in our path. The researchers at the scar may figure out the details of the ritual if we leave them alive. How are they being cleansed?” he asked.

"My men have also begun preparations. I sent a group there to cover up anything that may lead them to you." Dayvion said with deathly seriousness.

"If you can, make sure that they do not suffer." Diametries commanded solemnly.

"Where would the fun be in that?" Dayvion asked with a doubtful smile.

Diametries looked down on the assassin threateningly, "It would be a pity if you were on my list of unfortunate accidents.” the Speaker said intensely with no room for argument.

Dayvion shrugged his shoulders and moved on, "Fine, there is one other matter; a scholar by the name of Penndarius Greyson was sent a tracing of one tablet and purportedly has translated it in full, something that no other has been able to do. He is presumably meeting with either Isaiah Helkrif or one of his assistants." Dayvion said informatively.

Diametries tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Greyson, that name sounds so familiar." Diametries asked himself, shook his head and moved on. "What action is being taken?" he inquired.

"I have men shadowing him now. When they see their chance, they will strike." Dayvion replied.

"Good." Diametries said. “I look forward to more dealings with you Dayvion."

Dayvion smiled maliciously and his eyes twinkled, "The Mortalitas assassins are yours to command my lord.” he replied with an elegant bow of his gray haired head.

"Kill Penndarius.” he ordered Dayvion.

The assassin leader bowed low, "Your wish is my command.” he replied.

Dayvion disappeared into the shades of the rising morn and Diametries turned from the window and clasped his hands behind his back.

Kestrel's outline appeared on the wall behind Diametries, "You have impressive friends my lord.” he said deviously.

After listening to the demon's words, Diametries responded, "The events have begun to turn into motion.” he said grimly. "Where will this story lead I wonder?"

Diametries turned a cold eye to the large black creature on the ground and he eyed it for a moment, "If the ritual is as you say, this creature may yet serve useful, even in its unconscious state.” he said and pulled out a small letter opener. The Speaker walked to it and quickly cut a small tuft of black hair from its unconscious body. He then pulled one of his two red hair ties from his ponytail and wrapped it together and placed it securely in one of his pockets.

A few breaths after Diametries took his souvenir he watched as the large creature changed. Bones cracked, muscles shrunk, his hair receded, and he became a human like man. He was naked and lay on the ground, breathing slowly and deeply.

Outside, a loud banging came from his door to the office, "Is everything ok sir!!! We found bodies in the hall!!!" someone yelled from the other side.

Moments later five guards burst through the door, verily clambering over one another to get in, arriving in a standing dog pile. The white guard saluted, "Sir! Are you all right?" he queried.

"I am fine. He is not. If you can see him to the cells below and keep him under observation that would be divine." Diametries said and calmly pointed towards the being on the floor.

"What happened there?" one guard asked with wide eyes as he looked at the broken desk with surprise stamped all over his face.

"He attacked me and failed." Diametries said casually. "Replace this wreckage and get out of my space.” he ordered without raising his voice as he motioned towards his shattered desk.

The white guard saluted.

The other white guards had picked up the naked man and draped him with a spare tabard that tastefully hid his nakedness and carried him out of the room.

From the eaves of the window, Dayvion hung on one handed, "Brother...Deartháir you will not be able to stop these deaths either.” he said with a sadistic white grin of triumphant excitement.

---

The North West district of Deiyil was the main trade district of the city. Merchants, buyers, and sellers of all kinds flocked from the four corners of the world to hawk their wares to strangers and clients alike. The air was filled with the aroma of spices and exotic dishes.

The recent attraction was a strange and odd occurrence and those it attracted were not the normal visitor to the trade district, they were researchers and excavators.

Near the center of the trade district, a large scar had been torn into the white rock foundations of the city. A split slice that revealed a chasm that extended straight down and disappeared into blackness. It was many blocks wide, many blocks long, and revealed another layer just below the surface.

To study the area, scaffolding was set up in three tiers. On each tier of the scaffolding it had been setup to examine a level of heavy white stone tablets. A ramp extended down another level to view a similar set of tablets just below, and likewise one more time. This was the extent of the area the excavations covered thus far, but the chasm extended farther down and out of sight. The tablets were half again as tall as a man, with hieroglyphics and runes on their stone surfaces in ordered lines. Finally, at regular intervals separating the tablets were yet unexplored small tunnels.

The crowning piece stretched across the center of the chasm and took up the entire third tier. It was a thick stone platform that was also inscribed with runes and hieroglyphics in a spiral pattern extending outwards from the center. Multiple tents, tables, and implements used for archeological purposes had been setup on the stone platform that overlooked the blackness below.

One mystery that had yet to be explained was the gusts of rhythmic hot air that blew up from the fissure below them. Like clockwork, roughly every forty breaths a gust of air flew up from the chasm and though it was not violent, was enough to ruffle hair.

The biggest tent was setup towards the center of the stone platform; it was a square drab looking affair. Inside there was a desk made out of improvised materials including a wooden slab to operate as a writing area. The main area of the desk resembled Penndarius's desk, with papers stacked in precarious positions and falling over small stone tablets with notes attached to them with tree gum. His name plate at the head of the desk read "Isaiah Helkrif, Lead Excavator"

A woman that was dressed in dust colored breaches and a loose shirt ducked in through the tent and waved hello to Isaiah, she adjusted the glasses that hid her plain, inquisitive face, "Good morning sir. Were you up all night again?" she asked.

Isaiah jumped slightly, "Oh, Gale my girl you surprised me. Yes, I was going over our good friend Penndarius's work from the last tracing we sent him. He does a thorough and efficient job." Isaiah said appreciatively.

"What does this one say?" Gale asked and leaned in with interest.

"It is a description of the city and its creation.” he said reverently.

"Are you sure? This is a wonderful find! We have been searching for years for an explanation of how this city got here." Gale said and bounded over to where Isaiah was sitting.

Isaiah sighed and scratched his head in frustration, "I am afraid it is not as literal as I like. It seems that our good friends left us cryptic clues and metaphorical challenges that go beyond translation and into the world stories and riddles.” he said with a dissatisfied sigh.

"What does it say?" she asked.

"As close as our friend Penn can make it, he says that it translates as the following; and lo, we the first sons and daughters of the gods grew the stone tree in dirt of white rock that was laid on the back of a dragon.” he said.

Gale walked over and examined the notes with Isaiah, "They are probably referring to the stone foundations and the tower at the center of the city, but the back of a dragon?" she asked. "What could that mean?" she wondered.

"I have not the faintest my dear, though it is something to ponder.” he said.

"Yes indeed.” she said in response.

A large gust blew up from below them and rustled the tent back and forth, "When will that be damned wind stop!" he said in frustration. “Speaking of which, has Penndarius finished his translations of the tracing we sent him? I believe our own people managed to gather the first part of the instructions at the bottom, but the rest still eludes us." Isaiah said questioningly. “It seems our work has gotten the attention of the first Speaker and we gave him some of our preliminary finds, including the first translation of a strange series of steps from the large tablet. I included that along with the rest for reference purposes."

"Aye, Penndarius notified me yesterday and supposedly he finished his translations." Gale said excitedly.

"It seemed that lord Diametries was pleased with the news. Go meet with our young friend and bring back what he has found." Isaiah said fueling her enthusiasm.

Another person entered the tent through the flap and took up a position behind Gale.

Both turned around to view a black robed woman with a silver moon pendant on her cloaked figure above her left breast. His face was hidden by the hood of her clothing.

Isaiah put down his work and turned to the newcomer, "Visitors are not allowed in the scar, this is for authorized personnel only?" he said formally.

The dark figure bowed, "I serve the Speaker Diametries and he has bid me to deliver an announcement that is important to your expedition. Can you kindly gather your entire team?” she said with fake politeness.

"Speak of the devil, gather the others and bring them here." Isaiah said in a businesslike tone and motioned to Gale. “Can you tell me what the Speaker wants to communicate to my whole team; it would serve just as well if I relay the message.” he said disdainful of the intrusion.

"No." the woman said simply and shook her head.

When Gale left the tent she looked to her left and saw five more men garbed the same way as the woman inside and one of them had leashed a lesser kirin that pawed at the ground with its clawed, scaled feet, carving gashes in the priceless artifact below it. She grimaced in anger, but held her tone in check, knowing that if these were a Speaker's servants, they would hold no respect for a researcher like her, "What is a kirin doing here though?" she asked herself warily.

Kirin are magic creatures that roamed the lands of Therra openly. Their intelligence ranged from equal or higher to a therran too being no better than a common wild animal.

This kirin in particular appeared to be feral. It was hunched over, walked on four legs, and was almost as tall as a man at the shoulder. It had putrid yellow scales that covered its entire body and each one of its feet ended in wicked curved claws. Its face was akin to a dog and a reptile, with a square jaw that ended with wickedly curved beak. Menacing pointed eyes that glowed with an effervescently that hinted a feral intelligence as it examined the area like a hunter seeking prey, carefully marking each researcher as they passed. At the base of its head was a protruding spiraling horn that arced over its head and then two smaller horns that curved in from the sides on either side. It licked out a forked tongue occasionally like a snake, testing the air.

Gale hesitated when she saw the men and their dangerous companion; however her faith in Isaiah outweighed her fears, "Kendel, Isaiah needs the others gathered and sent to the tent.” she called to another excavator.

Her coworker went off to gather the others. As Gale looked around for others, she remembered her meeting with Penndarius and rushed to gather her things. It was almost time for their appointed meet. She rushed over to one outside desk where she had stashed her messenger pack, slid it over her shoulder and raced towards the scaffolding ramps, then up to the city proper with the excitement of a newborn.

None of the black cloaked men saw her go.

Moments later, inside the main tent, the rest of the researchers gathered, along with the dark clothed men, their female compatriot, and the reptilian kirin.

Isaiah crossed his arms and turned to the leader of the strange group, "Okay, we are all here, now what is it that requires us all to be present?" he asked in a huff.

She motioned her arm to the assembled lot, "This is everyone?" she asked tonelessly.

"Yes why?" Isaiah asked warily.

A bloodthirsty smile leapt to her face, "Good.” she said, leaped forward, and delivered a stunning punch to Isaiah's stomach.

"Why?" Isaiah asked and coughed up gout of blood.

She did not respond.

The large kirin prowled in from outside and locked its intelligent eyes onto each remaining researcher in turn, causing them all to freeze in fear, it let out a low hiss from its reptilian lips. Long fangs unsheathed from its lips eagerly.

One assassin tapped the kirin on the haunch, "Hip hip! Go get them!" he yelled and the kirin bounded towards the researchers began to ripping, tearing, slashing, and bite its way through the men and women to their unbound horror.

Three of the assassins unsheathed swords that were duplicates of the one the woman assassin was carrying and began to go to work with grimly.

Blood sprayed across the walls of the tent and painted it red.

Two of the five remaining assassins closed over the exit for the tent, while the other three and the kirin hurled themselves with precise abandon into the crowd of researchers.

Many of the victims flowed towards the entrance to the tent, but they were cut down by the two holding it with bright silver flashes that disappeared just as soon as they appeared.

"Oh gods above, save us, please!” one researcher pleaded as he was skewered by an assassin from behind.

When the first researcher reached the barred tent flap, a silver flash cut the man. His shocked expression remained frozen in time as his body hit the floor in two.

Caught among a murderous kirin and the two cloaked figures the ten remaining men and women were cut down or mauled.

When the gruesome business almost finished, Isaiah was last, holding his stomach where the sword had wounded him. A silver sword tip gracefully touched his chin and brought his chin up to meet the female assassins eyes. They were dreadfully cold, without caring and emotion, "Why?" he asked weakly.

"Just business, you will not feel a thing.” she said honestly and swiftly thrust through Isaiah's windpipe to the back of his neck with a clean stroke that severed his spine. Isaiah died instantly. She performed two quick practice strokes, imitated by the other assassins to clean their blades of the blood from their grim business and then sheathed them in unison.

The kirin handler clapped his hands together, "Hip hip, come.” he commanded and the kirin let go of the arm it had been chewing on. The assassin walked over and put the leash back on its collar without a fight from the dangerous animal.

The female assassin looked around quickly at the dead, “There is one missing.” she walked over to the desk and shifted through the papers for information. She found what she was looking for and held it towards the others, “Here, this indicates a meeting with Penndarius Greyson at an appointed place.”

One of the assassins snatched it from her hand and four of them left, along with the kirin.

She performed two practice strokes with her sword to throw the blood from the pristine blade and then leaned down and took hold of Isaiah's clothes, and then she wiped her blade clean and walked away without glancing back.

---

Gale was making her way through the city streets when she began to feel light headed and a chill went down her spine. She stopped for near an alleyway and leaned up against the wall, "What was that?" she wondered aloud to herself.

Then she felt something descend over her, it felt like a cold breeze for a moment and then she smelled almonds. A dark aberration fell over her, "Oh by the gods!" she yelled out as she felt her essence being taken by force and then fell over into a pile of old clothing.

She grabbed her head and her eyes exploded with white.

A man from the street saw her fall and ran over to help her, though by the time he got to her the white energy that was in her eyes dissipated, "Are you all right miss?" he said with concern as he kneeled down to help her up.

She gave him a confident smile and her demeanor seemed to have changed completely. She took off her heavy glasses and gave him a winning smile, "Just fine my dear. I have a meeting to keep.” she said and left him bewildered in the street as she skipped away happily.

A Scholar's Journey Book 2 progress report

2011-04-07T12:00:00.000-07:00

So, I've had a few questions regarding book 2 and what I plan to do with it and I will attempt to answer a few of those questions.

What will the format be? Will it follow the same "All in one day" format as before?

Yes with a few changes. Rather than start in the morning and go to night time, this one will start mid afternoon and will go to the next day in the afternoon.

Who will be the main bad guy?

The main antagonists will be the vaedziur lords, Soren's father Loken, and I'm toying with the idea of bringing back Diametries.

How will Penndarius evolve as a character? Will he finally fight a real battle?

The answer here is a bit complicated. One of the main things that sets Penndarius apart as a character is that he does not engage in physical confrontation and his personal battles focus on the existential, rather than the up close and personal (Though you could argue that his fights are much more personal than the others).

What is the main theme of this book?

In the last book I had a few themes of self discovery and family ties that impacted the story directly. Mainly for Soren, but in a tertiary way for Penndarius as well. In the next book it will focus squarely on Penndarius's father and Soren's father as central figures in the main plot.

Will Ryan Cabral return as the cover artist? His stuff was insane!

Yeah it is and yes he has agreed to do future covers. I was very happy with his work, so much so in fact that he and I will be working together on a new project.

That is all for now, but expect updates in the very near future.

Book update 5 Almost done!

2011-02-23T08:27:00.000-08:00

The book is almost complete. I am waiting on two editors to finish up and the cover is a step and a half away from completion.

I have started work on the next book, though it is still in the preliminary stages and will not be ready to be written for a while, since this is still the planning stages. My thoughts are that I should be done with the preliminary story outline by end of march and I should be started writing in the beginning of April.

So, I am also going to be starting up a new project with Ryan Cabral. We started pitching ideas around the other day for a graphic novel. More updates on that in the future.

In the meantime, here is the new cover art by Ryan Cabral.

Book update 4!

2011-02-16T00:37:00.000-08:00

The book is written! Seriously, this rocks so much! Now, I am almost done with editing, 35 pages left. After that, I am hands off.

In the mean time, more amazing artwork by Ryan Cabral. This is the most recent update and it is beyond words.

Book Update 3

2011-02-08T01:26:00.000-08:00

The editing is going great, though it is taking a bit longer that I thought it would. Though, this is the first time I have ever edited a book.

Currently, I am on 142 of 250 total. I should be done by Saturday or Sunday.

I passed up the main hard part and now its going pretty quick. The biggest issue that I am having is the story starters and the chapter names, though t may sound strange, I want to make sure that they fit.

Now, here is some more updated artwork for the cover by Ryan Cabral.

Book update 2

2011-02-01T15:18:00.000-08:00

The book is finished! Yes! It is done!
In the end it was about 85,000 words or so, 240 pages, 25 chapters. I feel very good about the ending and I have to say that I think you guys will like it when you read it.

Now, I have to get started on my personal editing, to fill in any continuity gaps and to make sure it all sounds right.

This should be done around the 6th of February, I know I said the 5th, but I want to take my time and do it right rather than hastily. After that, it goes to editors for roughly 15 days or so. Then, after a bit of finagling in order to get the formatting right, it is off to the presses.

In the meantime, here is a look at some of the new concepts for the cover art by Ryan Cabral.

Book Update

2011-01-26T07:03:00.000-08:00

This is an update for how the book "A Scholar's Journey: Divine Tempest" is coming.

Currently, the book is 9000 words or less from complete and I expect it to be fully done by the end of the week.

After, I will begin my edits that will take roughly five days. Afterward, it will go to editors.

Expect to see more artwork soon for the cover art.

Building the story part 1

2011-01-22T21:04:00.000-08:00

This post is going to be about my thought process and what goes on behind creating one of my stories.

I never want to imply that this is the only right way, there are many. But, a couple people have been asking about my personal process, so here it goes.

For all examples I will use A Scholars Journey: Book 1 as an example.

When I sit down and think about one of the ideas I want to put into writing, my first reaction is to sit down and think about the world, the setting, the place where this will take place.
What time equivalent is it? medieval/Renaissance, without guns.

Magic? Yes.
How does magic work? Through sacrifice of energy. transfer of energies. Magic does not appear, it has to come from somewhere.

Gods? Yes, 16 of them that represent different aspects of life.

Peaceful or at war? Unease, no war...yet.

Autocratic? Democratic? Dictatorship? Peaceful, government is run by the different religious sects.

Time frame of the book? one day.

Now, the next question that I wanted to ask myself was about the conflict
What conflict was I going to have? Well, this was a tough one. Every conflict has been done over and over again and at this point, so the real task I had to come up with was how would I arrange it in such a way that the conflict in and unto itself remained unique.

So, the first thing that I did was think about the bad guy. The main antagonist of the book is Diametries.

Why is he bad? That is the thing, he is not. Well, he is and is not. To me, the scariest bad guys are the ones that act upon right and wrong, seeking to do the right thing, but in so doing so, they cause damage.

This is what I set out to do with Diametries. I did not want him to be a sympathetic character. He had to be remarkably evil, not just sort of evil. One interesting fact is that you never truly see him fight in the book. In contrast to Penndarius the main character, he also does not engage in the conflict directly, instead acting through proxies.

More coming soon.

Book Update

2011-01-18T11:18:00.000-08:00

Hiya!

So, I finally came up with the name of my book. It will be called:

"A Scholars Journey: Divine Tempest"

The book is coming along great. I just hit 67,000 words and I am on target to be done with a rough draft by February 1st, then I am giving myself until February 5th to finish out my finishing touches. Then, I am giving it over to editors. They will be done by the 20th.

This is some preliminary art sketches that were sent to me by the artist I am working on for the cover.

A Scholar's Journey: Divine Tempest ---The first three chapters

2011-01-09T20:45:00.001-08:00