It has been quite some time since last I updated the blog, but then, it has been a very busy month (the title kind of gives that away).

I have been doing nothing but writing and proof reading over the last while, re-reading chapters, tidying up the writing and basically working things through with novel number two.  I’ve had no time to really do anything else due to working on the novel and real life; so no further progress on publishing or on other stories.

The good news is progress has been made and the novel is really taking shape.  The first half of the book is basically done and I think properly carries forward the characters, both old and new.  However, it’s the second half of the book that is proving a little difficult.

I have been coming up with very good scenes, but a lot of them just don’t fit with the story so I’ve had to cut them out and save them for future books.  Several perfectly good chats between characters have had to go purely because they just didn’t suit the situation or didn’t advance the plot.  It was a shame and it’s slowed things down but maybe, just maybe, they will get worked into future stories.  We’ll see.

I am keeping at it.  I’ve had a lot of encouragement from friends and family and everyone is very keen to see the next book.  I don’t want to disappoint them!  I am making progress on the last six chapters and plot elements are falling into place, just slower than I intended.  One big piece of work that was holding things up was the identification of the final bad guy.  Fortunately, that has now been sorted.  I’m most pleased with the result and I hope people will be suitably impressed once they…well, I don’t want to spoil the plot now do I?

That’s progress for now.  Meanwhile, hope you all like the little short story I’ve done below.  This is another old one.  Nothing big, just a simple dual between medieval warriors.  Enjoy!

* * * * *

The North Mans Blood

The fool’s body offered no resistance to Vadra’s blade.  It cut cleanly, slicing the soft skinned southerners head clean from his shoulders.  Vadra had thought the mans neck too long anyway; it was fitting that this weaklings end would come because of it.  Too long; like a chickens.

Yes, that was fitting too; slicing the head off a chicken.  Not that the man, in life at least, had been want for courage.  Oh he’d had courage indeed to face a veteran Warchief such as Vadra in single combat.  But he had fought like a chicken; prodding and pecking worthlessly with his thin sword blade, expecting Vadra to fight the same way.  Vadra had let the man try and land a clean blow to draw blood but the heavy northern armour he was clad in was proof against the southerner’s blows.  Then, when the southerner had at last changed tactics and gone for a stronger blow, Vadra had contemptuously swept the mans’ sword aside, sending it to the muddy ground.  Vadra’s backswing with his long sword had been the beheading blow.  The southerner hadn’t even had time to scream.  Or beg for that matter.  Vadra, in his vast experience, had seen many a southerner beg before the end.  It was very annoying.

“He was a good man north lord.  He was a friend.”

Vadra turned at the sound of the voice.  Around him single combats where taking place up and down the muddy battlefield.  North men fighting in a mass melee with southern warriors, the bright colours of the southern lands in stark contrast to the dark grey’s and blacks of the northern host.

The voice had come from another Southerner.  This one was different.

Unlike the headless corpse now lying at Vadra’s feet, a short, thin thing that hardly deserved the name ‘warrior’, this man was bigger.  Broad shouldered, clad in chain mail with only a small sash tied at his belt to mark him as a southern mercenary.  He had a thick shaggy beard, much like the one Vadra sported, black and braided.  He held a long sword, again like Vadra’s, at the ready.

Yes, maybe this Southerner was a proper warrior.  Indeed he had the look of a north man about him.  Prehapes he was of northern blood?

“I will have to kill you now north lord.”

Vadra smirked at the threat.

“You will try.” Vadra replied in his best broken Southern dialect, his skill at languages not as great as his skill with his sword.

He took a ready stance.  The Southerner nodded, slipping into a low guard.  Already, Vadra was impressed.  The Southerner indeed seemed to know what he was doing; it would be interesting to see how long that lasted.

Vadra attacked, blade sweeping high then down at an angle.  The attack usually caught off guard inexperienced foes with its speed and controlled power.  The Southerner countered well, batting the blade away and thrusting.  The long swords met in a clash of steel on steel, slipping past each other in a shower of sparks.

Yes, this one was a good warrior.

Vadra did not let up, striking again.  Again, the Southerner blocked then counter attacked with skill.  Blade met blade in ear splitting clangs of steel on steel, each warrior striking again and again to weaken the other.

Vadra did not let up.  He never did.  His strength, his years of experience, his skill with the blade; all these combined, would see him victorious.  Of this he was sure.  No southerner, no matter how skilled, would ever best him.

He blocked one of the Southerners blows.  He let go of his sword with one hand, and brought a mailed fist up, slamming it into the Southerners stomach.  The man staggered back, winded.  Vadra allowed himself a smile.

A soft skinned underbelly then.  How disappointing.

The man had his sword out in a wandering gesture but with a thunderous blow Vadra knocked the sword from the mans hands.

Time to die.

He swung his sword up, ready to…

The man leap forward and to Vadra’s astonishment, grabbed the Long Swords elaborate pommel, denying the killing blow for but an instant.

Fool, he could not delay the envit…

Vadra gasped, a sharp searing pain in his neck.  He gurgled as blood bubbled up from the gaping wound now in his throat.  The Southerners face was inches from his own, a cold hard anger behind the mans eyes.

“I told you I’d kill you.” said the Southerner, as the life of Warchief Vadra ebbed away, the dagger in his throat putting pay to his murderous ways.

* * * * *

Taking full advantage of being back to 100% I have made a lot of progress on the novel this last week.  I have chapters 1 to 6 pretty much done, with 40’000 words now written.  Chapters 7 to 12 have a lot of major scenes already completed, I just need to fill things out and that’s it.  I hope to have the whole novel completed on schedule at the end of May, in which case I shall at last be sending off to various proof readers!

That’s the plan anyway.

Meanwhile, I’ve been doing other writing projects as well just to keep me occupied.  I had 3 little ideas during the week which I have taken note of and hope to be developing further once I sit down properly and figure them out.  2 novel ideas and a short story.  Right now, the short story is more likely to get developed given time available.  Novel ideas are nice but time is very restricted!

I also did a little fiction for the Paradiso infinity campaign which has got back on track at our local gaming centre, which I present to you all below.

So only a small blog update but hope you guys enjoy the little story below and progress has definitely been good!

* * * * *

“Sergev!  You look like hell!”

Dimitri Trencov walked from behind the folding table and embraced his old comrade in a bear hug.  Sergev Vortravic hugged his old fighting companion back, glad to see a familiar face.

The two Ariadna veterans were in Dimitri’s work tent, an old and battered affair that had seen its fare share of war, off-planet and on.  The Veteran Kazak had earned the nickname of ‘old bear’ referring to his huge stature and veteran status amongst the line Kazak’s.  In comparison to Sergev’s shorter but no less muscular form, he was indeed a bear; a bear meeting a wolf.

For Sergev was a Stavka operative, nick named ‘wolfcub’ for his youthful appearance yet ruthless efficiency.  The wolf, the hunter, let lose on the planet Paradiso.

“Dimitri” he said as they broke off.  “It has been too long Old Bear.”

“Ha!  Old Bear is right, and getting older!”

Dimitri was in his fifties now, a true veteran, with a well groomed greying moustache and bright blue eyes.  He indicated a folding chair and crossed the tent space to a metal cabinet.

“How long’s it been?” Dimitri asked as he opened the cabinet and retrieved the expected clear bottle of quality Kazak vodka and 2 small shoot glasses.  Sergev took the offered seat.

“3 years” replied Sergev.  “3 long years with too much time behind a desk.”

“That’s what you get for joining Stavko!  I warned you!”

“That you did.  What was it you said? ‘Too much paperwork and not enough action?’”

“Certainly sounds like me!” replied the Old Bear boisterously as he set the two glasses on the folding table and poured the two of them drinks.

“To fallen comrades and dead foes!” intoned Dimitri, raising his glass.  Sergev copied the gesture.

“May the fallen be remembered and our enemies stay dead!” replied Sergev in the time honoured manner.

They both downed their glasses

Sergev did his best not to cough but Dimitri smirked regardless.

“They must be serving you the watered down stuff da?”

“Very funny you old ruffian.”

Dimitri refilled the glasses regardless, his grin widening.

“Well I take it your not just here to talk just of old times?”

Sergev nodded, taking the now refilled glass as his expression turned serious.  “Regrettably yes my old friend.  I’ve a prisoner with me, an engineer from the Haqqislam.  He has information and we need that information fast.”

“So you come to the Old Bear because you know the Old Bear can get that information fast.”

“Exactly.”

Dimitri nodded “What do you need to know?”

“Specifically, coordinates of an alien artefact and what, if any, research they have conducted on it.”

“You think this engineer will know?”

“We hope so.”

They downed glasses again.  Sergev had to wipe a few tears from his eyes.

“It’s good stuff.  Brewed it myself!” declared Dimitri in triumph.

“That explains a lot.”

The Old Bear laughed, having downed his own glass to little effect.  He refilled both drinks again.

“I take it when you say Alien you mean the Combined army?”

Sergev shook his head.  “Not this time Old Bear.  This…this is something new.”

The Old Bear frowned.  “Now you have me intrigued old friend.”

Sergev, having recomposed himself, raised his glass.  “That was my intent.”

He downed the powerful tasting concoction, again doing his best not to cough as the liquid burned its way down his throat.  He was aware that his vision was blurred slightly but felt sure he could survive at least a few more glasses.  It was a tradition of the Old Bears; the drinking of a lot of vodka during briefing’s.  He respected you more, the more you drank.

The Old Bear downed his glass likewise, before nodding sagely.

“Alright Sergev, I’ll try.”

“Please.  We are up against it.  The Pan Oceania, Nomads and the Japanese have all captured similar individuals.  Not to mention other forces we have not identified yet.  The race is on to see who will get to the device first.”

“I will do my best.  Let’s just hope this engineer you have acquired can help us.”

He had by now refilled the glasses yet again.  Sergev was thanking a variety of Gods that they hadn’t been talking too long else he strongly suspected he would be on the floor in only a few more servings; the old man was right, he’d not kept the practice up during his time with Stavko, a failing he was now paying for.

“I will do as you ask.” The Old Bear raised his glass.  Sergev, recognising the gesture, did likewise.  The glasses touched and both men drank deeply.

“Ypa”

“Thank you.”

Business concluded, Sergev got carefully to his feat, head swimming.

“Gods Dimitri, what was in that?”

“What else but damn good Vodka!”

“Next time.” Sergev suppressed a cough.  “I’m bringing my own bottle.”

The Old Bears laughter followed him as he made his way out of the tent on unsteady legs.  He reserved to himself to find a cot to collapse in, at least for a while.

And some Narrative work for you all to enjoy.

* * * * *

“Sergev!  You look like hell!”

Dimitri Trencov walked from behind the folding table and embraced his old comrade in a bear hug.  Sergev Vortravic hugged his old fighting companion back, glad to see a familiar face.

The two Ariadna veterans were in Dimitri’s work tent, an old and battered affair that had seen its fare share of war, off-planet and on.  The Veteran Kazak had earned the nickname of ‘old bear’ referring to his huge stature and veteran status amongst the line Kazak’s.  In comparison to Sergev’s shorter but no less muscular form, he was indeed a bear; a bear meeting a wolf.

For Sergev was a Stavka operative, nick named ‘wolfcub’ for his youthful appearance yet ruthless efficiency.  The wolf, the hunter, let lose on the planet Paradiso.

“Dimitri” he said as they broke off.  “It has been too long Old Bear.”

“Ha!  Old Bear is right, and getting older!”

Dimitri was in his fifties now, a true veteran, with a well groomed greying moustache and bright blue eyes.  He indicated a folding chair and crossed the tent space to a metal cabinet.

“How long’s it been?” Dimitri asked as he opened the cabinet and retrieved the expected clear bottle of quality Kazak vodka and 2 small shoot glasses.  Sergev took the offered seat.

“3 years” replied Sergev.  “3 long years with too much time behind a desk.”

“That’s what you get for joining Stavko!  I warned you!”

“That you did.  What was it you said? ‘Too much paperwork and not enough action?’”

“Certainly sounds like me!” replied the Old Bear boisterously as he set the two glasses on the folding table and poured the two of them drinks.

“To fallen comrades and dead foes!” intoned Dimitri, raising his glass.  Sergev copied the gesture.

“May the fallen be remembered and our enemies stay dead!” replied Sergev in the time honoured manner.

They both downed their glasses

Sergev did his best not to cough but Dimitri smirked regardless.

“They must be serving you the watered down stuff da?”

“Very funny you old ruffian.”

Dimitri refilled the glasses regardless, his grin widening.

“Well I take it your not just here to talk just of old times?”

Sergev nodded, taking the now refilled glass as his expression turned serious.  “Regrettably yes my old friend.  I’ve a prisoner with me, an engineer from the Haqqislam.  He has information and we need that information fast.”

“So you come to the Old Bear because you know the Old Bear can get that information fast.”

“Exactly.”

Dimitri nodded “What do you need to know?”

“Specifically, coordinates of an alien artefact and what, if any, research they have conducted on it.”

“You think this engineer will know?”

“We hope so.”

They downed glasses again.  Sergev had to wipe a few tears from his eyes.

“It’s good stuff.  Brewed it myself!” declared Dimitri in triumph.

“That explains a lot.”

The Old Bear laughed, having downed his own glass to little effect.  He refilled both drinks again.

“I take it when you say Alien you mean the Combined army?”

Sergev shook his head.  “Not this time Old Bear.  This…this is something new.”

The Old Bear frowned.  “Now you have me intrigued old friend.”

Sergev, having recomposed himself, raised his glass.  “That was my intent.”

He downed the powerful tasting concoction, again doing his best not to cough as the liquid burned its way down his throat.  He was aware that his vision was blurred slightly but felt sure he could survive at least a few more glasses.  It was a tradition of the Old Bears; the drinking of a lot of vodka during briefing’s.  He respected you more, the more you drank.

The Old Bear downed his glass likewise, before nodding sagely.

“Alright Sergev, I’ll try.”

“Please.  We are up against it.  The Pan Oceania, Nomads and the Japanese have all captured similar individuals.  Not to mention other forces we have not identified yet.  The race is on to see who will get to the device first.”

“I will do my best.  Let’s just hope this engineer you have acquired can help us.”

He had by now refilled the glasses yet again.  Sergev was thanking a variety of Gods that they hadn’t been talking too long else he strongly suspected he would be on the floor in only a few more servings; the old man was right, he’d not kept the practice up during his time with Stavko, a failing he was now paying for.

“I will do as you ask.” The Old Bear raised his glass.  Sergev, recognising the gesture, did likewise.  The glasses touched and both men drank deeply.

“Ypa”

“Thank you.”

Business concluded, Sergev got carefully to his feat, head swimming.

“Gods Dimitri, what was in that?”

“What else but damn good Vodka!”

“Next time.” Sergev suppressed a cough.  “I’m bringing my own bottle.”

The Old Bears laughter followed him as he made his way out of the tent on unsteady legs.  He reserved to himself to find a cot to collapse in, at least for a while.