The Saga of Reginald the Foul, 1.1

Reginald the Foul

For the third time in as many days Reginald the Foul was sprinting away from a village while attempting to wipe rotten egg from his robes. Cursing under his breath he looked behind him, relieved to finally see his pursuers give up their chase at the edge of the town. At last allowing himself to slow he looked around, surprised to find himself on a game trail, or woodcutters path instead of the main road he had been traveling down for the past week.

It had not been a good week. Since getting kicked out of his masters, Horgranox the Supremely Dire’s, tower and having his apprenticeship abruptly cancelled his plans for world domination had simply not been going well. He was lucky that he had been a mere few weeks from finishing his stint as an underling, as his knowledge of the craft of Fell and Vile Magiks was complete. He merely had had to fill out a bit more paperwork for the guild.

Well it looked like he would be freelancing for a bit. Who needed a diploma anyway?

He had been so close to finishing that he had already been awarded his surname ‘the Foul.’ It was perhaps not what he would have chosen for himself, as the jeers of the townsfolk had clued him in to its double meaning, but as least he HAD a Surname of Evil. And once he had conquered a bit he could always petition for a new one, one more fitting of his supremacy.

He was so lost in planning and scheming that it was at least two or three hours of walking before the grumbling in his stomach roused him from his reverie. Looking around he realized he had wandered into some rather bleak looking foothills, and as far as he could see there was little more than rocks, some stunted trees, a struggling river, and a bit further on, the start of the mountains proper. So loudly was his stomach grumbling however that he could not concentrate.

That’s when he realized his stomach was not rumbling at all. No, that obnoxious noise was coming from just ahead behind a mid-sized granite boulder. The mage froze and began calling his magic to himself, readying a spell most vile. Then, with hands glowing purple with barely contained power he leapt around the rock, ready top blast the menace to oblivion.

What he found was a sleeping goblin, loudly snoring. So deep in sleep was he that it took Reginald blasting the top of the boulder away to wake him.

*

Leaping to his feet Wekkit the goblin tried scooping up his rusty spear and tug down his horribly dented helmet at the same time, and only succeeded in tripping himself. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but there was a very smelly human with weirdly stained robed standing over him. And whatever look that was on his face, was probably not a good one.

*

Reginald was pleased at the way the goblin immediately prostrated itself on the ground before him. At last, here was someone with the proper respect that a mage of the dark arts required.

“Oh good. You there, goblin, I declare you my minion under the ancient pact between the Fell Mages and Races of Evil.”

Reginald wasn’t exactly sure what the goblin said then, but it sounded perilously close to “Shit.” He knew better however, that must just have been its name. “She’et, I am sure you will be honored to serve me in my evil Magnificence.”

Things were looking up.

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Coming soon…

Starting in the next week or two I will be releasing a weekly serialzed story. I have the first 8 weeks written, about an idiotic evil wizard and his minions as they seek to conquer the world. Hope you guys will enjoy!

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Monday Meandering, the Dragoncrown War

Today I finished book four of the dragoncrown war quadrilogy by Michael Stackpole. You may recall that I am a raging stackpole fanboy, with his book Talion ranking in my top five books. Well in this series he did not disappoint!

Without spoiling anything, this is a series for those who love military oriented fantasy. There are battles both large and small, wars, seiges, you name it. It also takes a lot of fantasy conventions and either turns them on their head or twists them in exciting new ways. The elves in this world are a great example.

I highly recommend this series. Stackpole is a master of the craft and this series clearly shows it.

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State of the Bob Address

Still waiting to hear back on my submissions, so please send happy thoughts my way.

Here are my goals for the week:

Four blog posts. This one counts.
Three ‘chapters’ on my secret project.
1,000 words on the new story.
1 horror or fantasy flash fiction.

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Taste of a Tale Tuesday!

An excerpt from my most recent story, Black Dog.

There were few things in the Konislund capable of such violence, and none options he liked to face. They did however tend to be slower than a man on horseback over distance, so he began inching away from the clearing as best he could in the dark. He had not made it more than three or four steps however when the Grim began flicking in and out of existence as it dashed across the clearing. A haunting wail came from its spectral mouth, sending chills up Valko’s spine. Stabbing his sword once more into the ground he knocked a black-feathered arrow into his bow just as a massive, jet black ogre barreled into sight.

Ten feet tall and as broad as any three men combined it powered into the clearing on its thick legs, shaking its horned head as it roared out a challenge. Moving with frightening speed for something so large, it lumbered about trying to strike the darting form of the ghost dog, which he could tell was trying to lead the beast away from where he crouched. He could even see where tiny gashes had cropped up on the ogres ankles, showing that the Grim was no ordinary ghost. Even though the bites likely hurt the creature as much as fly might hurt a man, they did work to further enrage the beast, blinding him to Valko’s presence. The ogre had almost left through the other side of e clearing, when a scream split the night.

“BARA! NO!”

The massive creature turned to the sound of the cry to find Ronna standing on the edge of the forest. It’s massive nostrils flared, sucking in great swirls of smoke before breathing them out in a rage filled roar. Raising its club, which was little more than a massive log with a jagged cut of rock pounded through it, it began bounding towards the youth.

Valko released his shot, and the feathered shaft flew hard, catching the ogre deep in the ribs. The beast barely flinched so focused was it on his prey, even as a second arrow struck its sinewy neck. Ronna turned to flee but there was no way he could escape the monster in time. Knowing he would be too late Valko scooped up his sword, ignoring the pain in his side and dashed towards the beast, hoping to at least avenge the youth.

Suddenly from nowhere a massive black shape leapt towards the rampaging ogre. Mostly formless there was naught but a hint of ragged claws and sharp teeth as it raced towards the creatures throat. So fearsome was it that the ogre turned midway through its downward blow towards Ronna to combat this new menace. Taking the club in two hands it drove it through the shadow form, which dissipated with a hound like wail.

  Screeching with frustration the creature turned back to crush the child, only to find he had sprinted out of sight into the woods. It pounded its club into the ground in frustration and was about to race off after the youth when it caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of its eye. It only barely managed to raise its arm in time to catch the overhand blow of Valko’s sword as it lashed out.

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Monday Meandering, The Books of Blood

I am immensely jealous of Clive Barker. As a horror writer, I suppose that is to be expected, as the man is highly successful. A case can be made that King aside, he is the most successful horror writer of our time in large part because of his success outside of writing. But the real reason I am jealous is not his success, but rather how he got his start: he released SIX books of short stories over the course of a year (around the time I was born no less).

Can you imagine.

Six entire books coming out in one year, as your entry to the field. On top of that, they were awesome. Its enough to give a guy a red rump, I know that much.

If this post was a deadly sin, it would be envy.

I have managed to lay hands on 1-4 and number 6, and each was spectacular. I sat there in abject misery the whole time I read them, awash with jealousy.  As such I highly recommend everyone who loves horror should read them.

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I Broke 100 Followers on WordPress!!!

Sweet!! Thank you guys!!!

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Monday Meandering, nanowrimo

Another Monday has arrived, the start of my writing week for the most part. These days Monday through Wednesday are my days to create, and I enjoy the time immensely.

I keep getting emails from nanowrimo. It has me itching to start it, though I am in a bit of a quandary as to what to write this year. Do I carry on existing works? Start some new project? I have a few ideas but they all seem so appealing. How to decide?

What do you do in this instance? How do you decide what to write next when all options are equally appealing? If I get some good responses, next week I’ll reveal some of the ideas I have to choose from.

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