#amwriting Most of this stuff will never see the light of day It is ideas

Stefen’s new lady wasn’t occupying a bath to the north-east of the castle which had collapsed onto the plumber’s wife who was enjoying the new bath when the ceiling dropped – Stefen did like to make a point or possibly a good splash and he chose to do so in this case as the ceiling dropped into the new sunken bath.

Natomi was in fact to south-west where the Admiral’s bath was highly guarded; adjoining his bedroom and a very clean Lady later joined him without the bath roof falling on her, which is more than could be said for Griselda who found herself placed in the bath amongst the blood from earlier wash and left to watch the ceiling after it had been winched up – the soap suds weren’t there but the remains of the plumber’s wife were.
Unfortunately, Stefen believed that people such as Griselda learnt from lessons and he was wrong.
Soon after she was released, Stefen tried to talk sense into her. She grabbed her marriage knife, stabbing at his surcoat and the knife skated across breastplate under his surcoat whilst the Guards grabbed her, forcing the knife from her hand, “You are finished, Griselda. That is the last time you will kill anyone in my Kingdom.”
“Put her on a horse and if she or any of her Guards are still here by dawn tomorrow they will be hunted down and hung!”
Griselda was soon moving north at speed with her personal Guards but very little else as Stefen’s Guards pursued her – driving her from the territory. People watched as Griselda rode out – usually over people if she could. It didn’t really seem to matter to her as she rode through them and people prayed as they watched her pass, often dropping to their knees in the mud and the middens so she couldn’t see them. By dawn the following morning more people followed her as they considered their future prospects.
The immediate decision for Griselda was which direction?

Peter Jamesson she liked and thought he would bed her if only to spite Stefen Matira although he might regret it later with Griselda.
Griselda considered herself above all rules including loyalty … was that a reason for why she didn’t care … or just an excuse.

Griselda, almost under duress gave birth to three children, ignoring the first born as a matter of course.
Laseith was the greedy, violent domineering baby who always fought for the fullest nipple; Routani received constant head-butts as she tried for food, Mioned was under the guard of Bonnie Leligan and Brunie Dumie and fed by a wet-nurse but with her eyes bound twenty four hours a day by order of Peter Jamesson.
Queen Griselda, when the mood was on her would slept with anyone and Laseith had little in common with King Peter so it looked fairly obvious to everyone that Laseith and Routani had not sprung from Peter’s loins.
Most assumed, in private, they’d arisen from the Guard who was found with the dead Griselda – Gereft, with both now dead; people close to Peter were already silently questioning whether Machael Jamesson should have been woken from Stasis as this seemed to be his background but Griselda and Laseith had the same temperament and anger, and Machael could handle himself, but he was a man.

Almost in a fit of pique Griselda gave birth to Laseith, Routani and Mioned. Peter Jamesson attended the births; kicked the Magicians out of the room but wasn’t stupid enough to do the same to Bonnie Leligan and Brunie Dumie.
He’d made a point of seeing just how many babies were actually born but Griselda, as usual, set her own agenda and refused to feed the third baby who’d been born first and just laid on the bed as the other two aggressive daughters were delivered; already they were fighting each other for milk … Griselda did not like threes and took the two most aggressive to her breast. To Griselda, already the third baby didn’t exist.
Peter looked at the Guards and then Mioned … already her life would be marred by the aggressive Griselda daughters … a lot of thought went through his mind in a short time and his hand was on his knife belt as he thought until finally he said, “find her a wet-nurse and don’t tell my Lady who it is. Your lives depend on her life. Bind her eyes – if she cannot see it may protect her. You two Guards will look after her for her life and yours, and I name her the first born – Mioned.”
Griselda heard the words and her screams disturbed Routani but not Laseith who gobbled away like a demented weasel. Routani hearing the sound of Laseith returned to her own food.
The screams of Griselda made Peter Jamesson laugh, and he left the birth-room with his two guards and Mioned, telling the Magicians to get back into the room.
In Ascania with Laseith and Routani now firmly locked onto wet-nurses Griselda was already planning her future and working out how to kill rivals.
Her immediate thought was yes I will win although as she considered her future she knew she had to kill to ensure it. That she had children seemed a minor problem to ensure she ruled as without marriage she could never rule and she would split Ascan if she ever tried to become Queen but ruling was her life and her children would cement her position and Peter Jamesson’s as well, if she had her way.
Peter Jamesson hid his innermost thoughts as he sat down to dinner with Griselda that evening, having made sure the food tasters were very active before dinner was served. His blood still ran cold when he thought of being in bed with Griselda … it also ran into a lot of other places she had scraped her marriage knife up and down on him while she went insane as she climaxed.
He wouldn’t be rushing to her bed again or not until the scars faded?
Peter Jamesson still had no real idea who the father of Laseith and Routani was but Griselda and Gereft were both dead, so he would never know but again he had no idea who the killer was – Gereft had been executed as someone had to be but it didn’t tell him who had killed Griselda. Mioned was hidden and would stay hidden although she was now in a long room for most of the day – a table ran the length of the room with two doors at the end if Mioned could ever find her way to the doors.
She might not be a Princess but acted it and without Machael there was no direct descendent from Peter Jamesson to take over and she was trying to stop that however they released Machael from Stasis before Peter died and her personal Guard now counted as nil.

Mioned with her eyes bound couldn’t see anything but her hearing, smell and touch were now very acute. She’d smelt the candles and her senses felt the heat that would burn her and she also felt the nudges of other Guards as they past to try and throw her into the flames.
Now she felt arms take her very gently and she was moved.
She knew from the smell of air to her left a door was open and she could sense the steep steps and she was released to step out to a different smell and it smelt wet, if not damp. She put her hand out gently and felt feathers.
The stone was cold through her light slippers and many things are – especially the lack of a mother but then, who wants a mother to do nothing more than kill you but now she felt something warm and comforting. She could feel a mind looking into hers. Two people lifted her and her hands were gently guided to its neck, then the voice spoke in her mind.
It was something alive and as hands held her and strapped a belt around her she seemed very light; she vomited as she was lifted into the air and then lost the rest of her stomach as something in her head said, “if I left you behind, you would die. Some of us Rocs made a treaty with the wooden people – the few that still remain after the bombs and I am a Roc and my name is Taren Roc. We still seek a world but now we have to settle for an island; it’s called Dagril. You’ll need to bath and wash your clothes when we arrive, the small lake to the north east is better; I will just bath,” and then we need to find food?

Laseith didn’t take long to find the gutter although she’d now slit her gown to thigh-high and at a young age was already sizing men up as her mother did. Routani was more restrained but it wasn’t that difficult when compared to Laseith. Like Arturo, when out of the castle Laseith also sought temples although for some reason she chose the elven god – Alf as her temple which swiftly kicked her back into the street and she sought the Humanoid’s God – Astoron. The temple of Druncheon already knew her and that was another temple that had kicked her back into the street so there was only Astoron.

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#amwriting #amwritingfantasy #writerslife so more of the early rewrite

I have been going back over the early stuff I rewrote and this is an idea of how it will look. Bear in mind that once again most of what I’m writing is as much structure as first draft edited. This early stuff has received a re-write cum edit cum rethink after I lost the book and most I have now managed to get back but by that time I re-started it and now the two halves don’t hang together.

This will take the earlies I’ve released upto ‘Chamber House Politics’.

Dave

First out was Martan Matira, snorting in his thick accent, he was big for a dwarf as he now needed two Guards to help him move about and his weight made movement slow.
Martan was swiftly followed by David Jamesson whose tones and voice were moderated – usually by the sound system, although compared to James Droga who bellowed like a stuck pig and to a degree looking like one; anyone was!
It took another half hour before James Droga finally decided to land – the Droga’s being the most major of the ruling Parties and therefore stood on their pride and everyone else’s, if given a chance.
The Admirals finally arrived outside the entrance to the cave – due ceremony went by the elbow; usually into the other dwarfs. Passing Guards jumped in to separate the Admirals fighting each other.
The Admirals would appear as images in the Council Chamber after their bodies had been inserted into tubes at the cliff site and they were protected by Guards during this time.
In a way they never cared about anything including their Guards loyalty, and their belief in themselves was such they never realised that if they were so loved and respected why were their bodies being stacked up in a secured facility to meet a request for their appearance in the Chamber House.

The Red Stone Gate watched as they approached: intelligence in stone might be; slow but then perhaps it still thought faster than the Admirals approaching it.
The door ponderously swung open as they approached, casting a long shadow over them and showing a long dimly lit tunnel that seemed to move as they entered and the Gate then spoke to them, “leave your weapons outside of my entrance.
Within my entrance your bodies will not be molested – you will live within my portals but how you live will never be my decision.” The walls seemed to pulse as they spoke with dull red veins sparkling as they walked.
They seemed to walk for a long time, arguing as they invented stories as Politicians do until they entered a chamber which stopped them in full lies. The chamber sparkled albeit with barely enough room for them and four small cylinder shaped containers but that stopped them in mid-flow.
It was small with beams of light hitting their chests – some colours bounced off them, leaving them looking very odd; other colours danced around them, their heads and beards changing colour as if the lights saw more than their images; their eyes blued as the lights now seemed to be satisfied but colours danced on and around them until the chamber walls changed colour as they looked and the colours radiated from them.
Now the walls became images that took them through their pasts; visions of blood they spilled and as if they had never been there, it read their brains and put them onto the stone walls; to the dwarfs it was a demand for their future lives.
A cracked and crackling square exploded into colour and light danced. The colours seemed to melt into their thoughts and red was the first and major colour but what did each of them see? Was it the same vision? Was it a history? A putrescence of a future? They jerked as if they were carrying the sticks to beat wives; babies or their own people as they watched but the visions on the wall somehow did not match the expressions on their faces.

James Droga looked at his two companions, “Why do we go through this rubbish. We have the Guards, lets shed some blood in the Chamber House, it’s the only thing they understand.”
Martan Matira looked up and shook his head, “four hundred thousand dead and you want to kill more? Already the lesser families, aided by the De Bowed and Du Storme’s traitor’s are plotting and you – James – want to give them more reasons to plot? We chose this as the safest route; now can we actually get to this place where we are safe or turn back!”
“I never turn back!” Shouted James Droga, “We lead – this rabble aren’t good enough?”
“Let us hope so, Admiral Droga. I just hope they aren’t good enough or we are dead – as dead as you like toymaker dwarf’s dead. We left our weapons outside.”
“Yes. It seemed to take you forever? Who were you plotting to kill?”

A timbre harmonic voice echoed from the walls, surrounding them with almost visual sound, “take off your mail-shirts and helmets; they don’t matter; they will interfere with the process.”
To the dwarf Admirals it did matter; they felt naked as they stripped off their mail-shirts and helmets, leaving fat bellies and hair roots showing black hair. Had they mirrors they would have noticed a black tinge where the red hair and eyes showed black, and their eyes were now showing blue respectively, meaning they weren’t true dwarfs but from the Old Stock that they killed without thinking.
They stood upright before the silver capsules as supplicants seeking safety and that was promised by the Red Brick Gate, “You fail to understand Admirals, you really do. I am Old Magic and so is a lot of Dwarvia. You are also Old Magic, yet you hide and pervert it. You build images and claim they are this planet’s desires but they are your desires and no-one else’s; now see your desires!”
Capsules erupted longways; reverting to vertical and four capsules towered in front of them. Within the capsules they were protected against everything unless of course they were removed and forced to physically be in the Chamber where they would probably be dead within seconds of doing so.
Admirals relied on Guard’s loyalty or the Guards were killed and the Guard’s families knew loyalty was on the cutting edge and the Admirals held the blade.
The Admirals lay dreaming of four hundred thousand prisoners scattered across anywhere … the pain, killing and hardship never bothered them – they weren’t dying; someone else did the killing, and they seemed to know they were just dreaming, but dreaming of what. They didn’t dream of ‘ruling no more’ – they never believe they would cease to rule and a new planet would give them time to rule.
They danced dreams of four hundred thousand dead; two hundred thousand prisoners rioting but war to them was war as they never used their own people – they won the wars and the people paid afterwards but who was ever honest in warfare, and now, part of the dream became a nightmare as they lost power and in their minds … they lost position – the greatest of losses.

The Chamber House in a lot of ways resembled an upturned salad bowel. It had been designed by someone with fetish for the colour blue and with the flashing lights on the ceiling it resembled something not normally seen sober.
The roof of the Chamber produced a lot of images as well and during this time as it seemed to have taken on a life of its own often showing images that annoyed the Admirals even more as their ideas became more apparent than they wished but most times it showed stars and not Politicians who thought they were the stars but it would take a long time to destroy Venal Politicians – stars or not although the slaughter during disputes actually became so bad that automatic washing in the Chamber was stopped as bodies floated downwards however the dwarfs at the top didn’t mind that although the sound of the water was also drowning the sound of them out, and that they did mind!
What was unusual for the dwarfs was that they did sometimes worked together until they realised they couldn’t trust anyone, included themselves and this now seemed to be the case as they betrayed each other whilst they thought of the future, or more often of the past and who they couldn’t trust.
It was usually a case of dwarf eat dwarf whether there was any sauce or not as they piled into each other with relish although the blood troughs coped even if they did overflow a little during fierce political debates.
The dwarfs, between attacks did stop for meetings – usually from exhaustion however it was often to plan for the next attack on someone else so the minutes of meetings often only lasted seconds when someone was left standing to apparently take them, yet this time, the clamouring and rioting in the street finally seemed to have made it into the Chamber House which usually ignored any reality but their own enclosed brains and now they needed someone to blame with another planet as a destination for the three Admirals seeming ideal as the political blades went in but they still could not manage the ‘Brutus affect’ and settled for three knife blades rather than seven!
The Circle of Stones was supposedly supreme in the Chamber according to the rules, whenever they were ever followed and no law was supposed to exist without the Ruling families standing within the confines of the stones with everyone else standing out of range but this day Jashine de Glop, Marchant de Wonder, Glosia de Geld and Minous de Bolt were stood alongside Wisc de Storme and Sonia de Bowed within the confines of the Circle of Stones, indicating that power had moved … yes, the misguided Political killings of the Droga, Matira and Jamesson families had, had some effect as they blew up people leaving the Chamber House and claimed it was a political mistake and not their fault that meetings had finished early.
The pictures on the roof were popular with viewers and with split-second updates they became so popular that the commentators became more famous than the Politicians and that created more trouble. Their egos as the failures and losses were often shown as well led to more blood spilt as other families tried to take advantage in the house and blood piped out of the Chamber meant the troughs often running full by the feet of members reminded them to vote according to their conscience or their lives; often on cutting edge voting.
It wasn’t a question of the seventh knife in a politician’s back; they were often struggling to get up to three before someone else stabbed them in the back whilst they were still stabbing another politician.
The Droga’s, Matira’s and Jamesson’s sensing the infighting amongst the smaller dwarf families could never conceive the idea of defeat and immediately launched unsanctioned invasions to test the mettle and resolve of the bodies now apparently governing the Chamber. They’d ruled for years and weren’t going to let this happen over-night, nor over-morning, if they could stop it.
If the three families had their way and they did still control Government as a policy of War then the wars would continue as their lives and wealth were entrenched in war and they felt the Elves as the extreme bureaucratic Uncivil Service would follow their rules as they had the Elves elements twisted more than usually in their favour but one of the problems with dwarfs who feel they control by right is that they forget who controls the Elves who’d served for so long and the Elves were also considering who they controlled.
It wasn’t just their feeling that an obligation had become servitude; they felt exploited and forced into a Bureaucratic Government service due to some long-term obligation that no-one could remember and now were holding their own meetings without blood-letting. Whilst they could kill by force they often felt that boredom could achieve the same results in a meeting, especially if they controlled the Agenda and the Minutes but with the Circle of Stones they were powerless; there the Politicians ruled for the limited time they possessed.
Now they faced the Admirals’ images, “Why have you ignored our summons to be here in person and face this Chamber?”
James Droga immediately replied, “You have no power over us. We rule more worlds than you can dream of. We rule and we just allow you to exist!”
The Chamber jeered, “Get those prisoners onto another planet and not ours!”
James Droga took his time as he stared around him and eventually spoke, “What do you rabble want?”
Glosia de Geld replied, holding up the ‘Circlueta of Power’, “By this token I am elected for this session of the Chamber. You will respect the Circlueta or die.”
“You cannot touch us. We rule, and the Gate will protect us.” said Martan Matira.
“You rule no longer. You have killed and virtually destroyed Dwarvia, Martan Matira. Your images will leave here and your bodies will stay within the confines of the Red Stone Gate until you and your families are sent into space. As you like prisoners so much, sixty thousand of them will accompany you in three ships to the outermost ends of space – you not will return, no matter what you believe. We accept the restrictions of the Red Stone Gate. You will not be harmed.”
“Who are you to say this. You have no authority. We are the Ruling Families!”
“The ‘Circlueta of Power’ gives me that power!”
“I am an image you cannot kill me!”
“You are images, not dwarfs in this chamber but you have killed enough. I am Geld Du Storme and this is Neville De Bowed and by the rights of the Ruling Council – sick of your killing – you will be held in custody until transported – it will take some forty years but you will not be aware of that as you will be put into Stasis until you have travelled at least 20 light years from Dwarvia,” he looked at the roof of the Chamber House as he spoke.
“You cannot hurt us.”
“Yes, you are correct Admiral Droga but for your lack of respect to this Chamber, to sentenced is to be, not only transported but banished – you will be executed should anyone from Dwarvia ever see you. Your bodies will be removed from the cubicles in the the Stone Chamber; frozen, and you and your fellow Admirals will freeze until you are loaded into Stasis. At some point you may learn but it will be one hundred light years from Dwarvia and your immediate families will also be frozen and transported to the ship in Stasis – you will be re-united with your wives and families … it is the least we could do, despite your lack of respect for this Chamber.”.
As their images disappeared they found themselves briefly upright but once again in the Red Stone Gate chamber with the lights once again sparkling as they stood, “you have broken your oath, Gate,” shouted James Droga.
“You live, Droga. My oath was to protect your life. I have accomplished that. Many want you dead, now you will live, even if it is on another planet. You deserve worse, do not push the little good. favour you still have,” the colours on the now began to spin and the Admirals seemed to spin as well as they were laid down on the floor and slept.

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#amwriting #writerslife #amwritingfantasy The early rewrite stuff

I have actually re-written this stuff but still haven’t take some ideas further.

I post some stuff so people have some idea of how the story starts.

Welcome to Astoria where even the writer has no idea of where it will end up.

Dave

The Meeting Room adjoined the main chamber in the Chamber House and was considered neutral territory.
Any blood letting was reserved for the Chamber House where there were ducts to carry away the blood of the more intensive political debates.
The circular design of the Chamber House meant that adjoining rooms were various shapes and the Meeting Room’s roof sloped from right to left in a curve but was still high enough for it to be ignored.
Lamps were lit although the dark that swirled around the feet of the ruling families as they entered the room made you realised that something or someone else was at play.
The official organiser was in his chair at the far end with blocks of table set apart for each family.

It was the obvious spot for a meeting that had been forced on the families as escaping prisoners rioted in the streets forcing troops to be recalled from invasions to stop the riots and the riots were being stopped with bloody force as dwarfs opened fire on anything and anyone without any thought.
This had made James Droga a target for politicians as he used widespread force to try and stop the riots and as a consequence not only increased the riots but now dwarfs were joining in against the troops.
The situation had finally forced the families to deal with each other in a Tribal Meeting.

Jon Jun belonged to no family yet he seemed to have known his name at birth.
His family birthed their eggs in caves and there was always a list of donors until the wars stripped dwarfs away to fight.
There were none to join with him when he was hatched, forcing him to move from body to body until he found one suitable and then the Elves caught him in his last body.
It was an unpleasant experience as his being, having invaded, settled in, and controlling a good body then found itself fighting the elves for the body.
Eventually as more elves arrived to challenge for the body he counted as his, he slowly gave in and would have looked for a new body but the elves wanted him to just carry them and for him to maintain control under their advice and now he needed to earn his keep and keep the elves happy as he watched the door open.

The Ruling Families constituted the War Party and they had started wars to maintain power after the Minor Families look to become more powerful. They also tried to make sure that as many troops were taken from the Minor Families as possible to reduce their power even further.
These three Admirals were the prime movers of the wars.

James Droga, like the other two Admirals was the regulation height for the Space Navy of 4 foot 2 inches with blue eyes and red hair which indicated he was a pure-blood dwarf but unlike the other two possess a fiery personality and believed he could kill his way out of anything.
To James, the others might meet Navy rules for red hair, black eyes and height restrictions of four foot two inches but they lack the blood on their swords and banners that to a Droga meant pride – pride in the people you killed; the planets you crushed and the prisoners you took even if you never left a spaceship officially during a campaign – it was glory to a family to be in a battle and James was always in some battle or other and usually between the families who ruled. Their families might be bound by ancient bonds or so they claimed but James had a few debts to pay and they wouldn’t appear in his black book and he intended to make sure his co-Admirals didn’t have any fingers left to open a black book – they would be red ones when he’d finished.

Jon Jun looked at his agenda although the Elves’ voices were deciding his words.
He also looked at Justine Droga, Vein Matira and Oswald Jamesson, “Do you speak for the Ruling Families are do the Admirals as there seems to be a conflict of control and responsibility?”
Before James Droga could speak, Justine Droga shouted, “We speak for the Ruling Families, not the Admirals!”
Jon Jun looked at the Admirals and waited.
James Droga had now gone purple; Martan Matira a shade of Puse whilst David Jamesson just smiled. Hearing nothing, Jon Jun moved on to Item 1.
Slowly, in order of precedence the families entered: Droga; Matira; Jamesson; De Storme; De Bowed, with the minor families then filing in behind them with the triumphant Admirals first: James Droga, Martan Matira and David Jamesson.
Behind were the senior members of the Ruling Families: Justine Droga, Vein Matira, Oswald Jamesson, Wisc de Storme and Sonia de Bowed and even further behind were the senior members of the Minor Families with Joshing de Glop, Merchant de Wonder, Gloria de Geld and Minos de Bolt.
Jon Jun watched them file in with the three Admirals taking the central position in front of him was the Senior and Junior families took the right and left tables respectively.
He waited until they finally settled themselves before beginning with the Elves quietly whispering into his brain and he looked directly at the Admirals.
“On the plus side we have conquered innumerable planets and star systems and wealth has been returning to our system. On the negative side the cost of the wars far exceeds any wealth returning to our system; we also have hundred of thousands of prisoners distributed across Dwarvia with rioting, food shortages and over three hundred thousand dead or missing dwarfs which has led the Chamber to consider this is an urgent issue to be sorted out and therefore this meeting has been called.”
James Droga was the first to respond, “we have brought glory to Dwarvia and if they can’t support us they should shut up!”
Martin Matira looked at James Droga and said, “Let’s hear what else they have to say?”
They both then looked at David Jamesson, “Don’t you have anything to say, David?”
“As Martin said, ‘Let’s hear what else they have to say?’”

“We have over four hundred thousand out-of-control prisoners—”
“They are under control,” shouted James Droga, “I have them controlled!”
“What you have done, James, is to kill two hundred prisoners but your soldiers have in fact also killed one hundred thousand innocent citizens by opening fire needlessly without any thought of avoiding civilian casualties.
“They were supporting them.”
“Or so you claim, Admiral Droga. My evidence is that you just ordered your troops to open fire without any care or consideration for civilian—”
“That is a lie!”
“I fear the number of dead civilians give a lie to your claimed truth, anyway this is a meeting with the Senior Members of your family, not a trial. That may occur or not but it will depend on the Chamber and your other two colleagues may also be held responsible but the Chamber will decide whether to call yourselves to Justice or not.”

“I’ll face the Chamber any day, Jon Jun. They won’t touch me or they’ll know what a riot is.”
“I’m sure they already do, Admiral Droga … several riots, I think?”
“Do any of the Ruling or Junior families wish to make a comment. All I have heard so far are Admiral Droga and Admiral Matira?”
A long silence replied to Jon Jun, “Then I must make my report accordingly to the Chamber. This meeting is completed. I have to say that you all seemed to have decided to fall on your swords.”
“You’ll get a sword if you don’t pay respect to the Ruling Family,” shouted James Droga.
“Once again, Admiral Droga you fail to pay respect to the ‘Meeting Room’, now I suggest you all leave as you have nothing to add to this meeting,” Jon Jun watched as the families and Admirals filed out. It had been a wasted time but perhaps not entirely wasted. His report would go to the Chamber and whilst the Ruling Family controlled the votes, enough representatives had lost family killed by the Admirals, especially by James Droga and they wanted revenge.

The dwarf Chair of the Chamber surprisingly enough was not a chair but a dwarf and so he could be dominated by the Ruling Families it was Joshing de Glop.
The de Glop’s were the most minor of the Minor Families and therefore ideal for the role.
Even though Joshing de Glop had quietly attended the meeting, Jon Jun was required to make a formal report in the Chamber that evening although most of his words being shouted down by the Ruling Family’s supporters.
Jon Jun was used to this and just continued speaking within the Circle of Stones until finally a demand was made for the Admirals to present themselves in the Chamber. This was immediately refused by Justine Droga until he found himself opposed by the de Storme, de Bowed, de Glop, de Wonder, de Geld and de Bolt families giving a majority of six to three again him, Vein Matira and Oswald Jamesson.
As the arguments became more violent Jon Jun made a hasty exit, leaving leaving the Chamber complete with his Guards and a force shield that protected him once he left the Chamber.

As Jon Jun left, the political cuts of words became physical and the blood pumps started on overtime.
Weapons weren’t allowed in the Chamber and the ducts for blood-letting were there for show as they flowed red from the weapons that didn’t exist and once again Political dwarf families ignored any laws they didn’t like.
Dwarvian dwarfs considered that disagreements should be aired, usually as blood spurted in the air. Some representatives now came into the Chamber in overalls and wearing an apron.
The cut and thrust of words had long ceased with the battles of families reaching something that made the Elves break a long lost pledge and now they quietly moved to calm the attacks through bodies they had taken over. The dwarfs had long thought this was happening but the Elves honestly told everyone they didn’t take over bodies and to a degree were slightly honest. They just occupied minds which then occupied bodies and finally they occupied the Chamber through others although families now wore jewels that were claimed to protect them but few could resist them and the Ruling and Minor Family leaders even slept with their helmets on until they were in shielded rooms but demands were being made for a Moot.

To Moot was a melding of minds that knew honesty and that to a dwarf was weakness.
If a dwarf had to be honest then he was weak and this thought process led to the accident as the Ruling Families called it and a lack of votes in the chamber.
The Ruling Family didn’t expect half of the Chamber people to be outside when they tried to clean a few political thoughts out – is was meant to take out the opposition, not their own people but agendas screwed up – meetings finished early – it wasn’t their fault … the meetings should have finished on time and members of their families wouldn’t have been there!
It was just one of those unfortunate accidents that happen from time to time and they laid the blame directly at the mail-shirts of the minor houses and the lesser of the ruling families.
De Bowed and the Du Storme, they shouted, had killed everyone but in reality to them, what did it matter who killed who or who decided that blasting opposition to bits in the standard Dwarvian way was the only answer to all problems – it had cleared some deadwood if nothing else and the De Bowed and Du Storme’s should have taken the blame, anyway there had been a weakening of some Political relationships and support recently, so someone would pay and the Droga’s, Matira’s and Jamesson’s intended to make sure it wasn’t them.
As a result there was a united opposition against them especially from De Bowed and Du Storme families but that again was meaningless to the Ruling Families who considered they ruled and would always rule and De Bowed and Du Storme could live with it. So they’d killed thousands of dwarfs; levelled major areas of cities; what did that really matter as long as they ruled.
Well; the Matira’s, Jamesson’s and the Droga’s found out that it mattered a lot to people who now rebelled against them and their own families were now ready to sacrifice their top Admirals to save their own necks as there was no way they could Moot and let others know their plans and so the Ruling families sat on the cusp and did they find it uncomfortable? You can bet your dwarf helmet they did.

The Hell-Cat Heli-phroaters – known at Hell-cats for short were named after a famous Admiral, nicknamed the Hell-Cat for his bedroom adventures. They often sounded like a shower of insects as they circled on auto, kicking up dust; raining fuel on the people beneath them as they were poorly maintained but the Admirals weren’t bothered and the Hell-Cats Heli-phroaters often adopted their owners attitudes to organic lifeforms and tended to ignore them when they landed on top of them.
The planes were said to be as honourable as he was, which meant they might be as fickle in their landings as he was and their manoeuvrability was difficult to control at the best of times however their minds were as sharp as his and often the controls did not perform as he desired which possibly was why their brains requested a transfer just before the ship flew into a cliff with him inboard and no-one else.
Hell-Cats hovered well and could land whether handled by good pilots or not but they then immediately went to their Interstellar Lawyers for being mishandled and groped as the Admirals kept their hands on the joysticks for too long. Their minds, blended into the controls for years had the sensations and emotions of the best but they were able to land their own phroaters and objected to the Admiral’s hands on the controls.

James Droga, in his Hell-Cat Heli-phroater looked at the two screens in front of him, and especially at the image of four foot two inched Martan Matira in one of them and then deliberately yawned whilst looking at him and ruffled his own red hair.
James Droga considered Martan Matira to be soft.
He detested David Jamesson as well.
Neither had the guts to just kill and get on with life.

Interstellar Lawyers just following on from a quick galaxy’s earnings, now represented the Hell-Cat brains in most Interstellar craft and with the dwarf’s wars; prisoners escaping and thousands of prisoners, the dwarf’s were pawning their mail-shirts to pay for lawyers to represent them against the Hell-Cat brains.

Their targeted landing site today was some two hundred foot below the cliff peak and now their automatic systems were fighting for who landed first.
A road ran just above the bottom of the cliff drop and seemed to sprint into the distance, jutting out for about thirty feet from the cliff edge as it ran, which given the dwarfs dropping down was probably a good idea; if a road could actually run, this road would have run as they approached it!
The Guards watched as the Hell-Cats found room to land without killing any of the waiting Guards although that didn’t bother the dwarf Admirals who seemed to like killing as others like living. They finally landed separately into the grey misty morning. The sun was bright and struggling to break through the dirt, stone and water the Hell-Cats were throwing up and the Guards, who’d stood guard for hours raised their shields as the Admirals began to land.

 

 

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#amwriting #writerslife There is an e-book KDP Freebie from Friday to Sunday on my books

I’ve put my first 7 novice books on a Freebie e-book download from KDP from this Friday until Sunday.

Some thoughts on what I was thinking.

Dave

At what age did you realise you wanted to become a writer.

I don’t know that I did realise I wanted to become a writer until RA finally started to physically affect me, and at 60 I found that driving hundreds of miles a week with the stress of working on Client sites and looking after complex financial databases, was not something I could continue to do.

I had written a lot of poetry between 1998 and 2002 and even had a publisher interested at one point but there is no money in Poetry, even if successful, and IT was always my first love so I stayed in IT and cut the Poetry out although I am playing about with it, nowadays.

After I left the Royal Navy, I completed a fill-in editing and structure of English course at college – back in the 70s – that gave me the ability to edit, create digests, understand the structure of writing and write a 15,000 word essay, so I knew I could do it. It was to be honest, just a requirement to do something in English with the rest of subjects for the first year.

 

On maintaining thoughts and ideas

I do edit several times during the course of a book for different reasons and my wife reads various random printouts for ease of reading, flow and continuity and she has pushed me to include more dialogues.

I am able to switch hats for editing even though I am obviously not independent of the writing but by the same philosophy I know what I meant to say and how it fits in with the story so it is not a series of disjointed activities as can otherwise happen.

Once I have the main idea for a book I usually just start writing, and eventually I will at some point use a free-mind map and record the major elements, the characters, relationships, possible future flow and this gives me the discipline of working through the book and recording my thoughts and the flow.

Mind-mapping makes me think about the book structure, but also documenting it means I am able to later return to check names, research, what was the structure of a previous book and I hope makes me consistent across several books – such as the Parky Espionage Books.

There is in every book’s time a place when you come to a dead halt. I try to get around that but often it is only by taking a break and then starting as if I was beginning anew that I can break the block and by doing this on my last two books I felt I produced better second halves for both Parky’s Teatime and FYOG – I May Be A Long Time.

 

Tell us about the books

The Good, The Bad, And The Awful Poetry Book

My Poetry Book is comprised of the poems I wrote during 1998 – 2002 and was a task undertaken when the writing dried up and I took a break.

The title was meant to be humorous and was partly because I could have improved the poems but I liked them as they were, and I didn’t want to go back after a long time and start changing them.

The difference in time would have meant they became different poems, although in the end, I did change some of them.

 

Parky’s Lunch

The Parky’s Series title originated when I started to think that Parky’s real name was Peter Pettigrew and I wanted him to have something that would embarrass the hard man. I have originally planned to have him as a Security Agent working in a BR car park who found the Minister of Defence’s daughter in a position that would allow Parky to blackmail the Minister for a better job.

I didn’t really develop that idea but the name Parky stuck and became the name of the series.

His history was with the Royal Scots – also known as Pontius Pilate’s Bodyguard – I decided to leave that even though they were later merged (Motto, Nemo me impune lacessit. Latin: “Nobody harms me with impunity”.).

The Royal Scots and the motto later provided a background for Parky that leads to him being blackmailed in Parky’s Afters.

Parky and Bishop met up in Malaya where both formed part of a killing squad run by the Major, who was subsequently jailed for embezzlement, and in Parky’s Lunch they set up the Major and his Batman together with an Irish gunman, a bent lorry driver and the Boy – all hunted – to be killed.

The CIA get involved and so does a Chinese guy – Mr Hoo, and another CIA guy – Huron, but none of them realise that the organisers of the hijackers are an Insurance guru, the Minister of Defence, an industrialist, an international banker and other top people who have bought into the syndicate.

Will all of the guys survive ‘The Lady’ exploding and achieve their final aims.

 

Parky’s Afters

Parky’s Afters covers that the boy survived and stupidly returns to England despite now also being a CIA Agent and holding a US Passport.

He is picked up at Heathrow and vanishes under the Defence Minister’s instructions as a traitor where he is held in a secret prison in Kensington and tortured by a team of guys and also by a woman – Gris – who he subsequently finds out, works for Parky.

In breaking him out the Defence Minister is killed and so is the Prime Minister’s fund raiser and to this total is added the Insurance Guru from the previous book.

The Boy is finally forced to marry Gris and join the UK Security Service, which has at least five moles operating and a useless Director and Assistant.

Can the moles be found, and added to this, can Neville – a Police Inspector cum drunk – now involved with the Insurance Guru’s wife, stop a serial killer on the loose in London.

 

Parky’s Teatime

Parky’s team have once again been successful; put out to pasture, and held there until the head of Security is changed once again and brings the team back.

This time they become involved with the National Crime Agency and helping to combat organised crime but is ‘Owley’ – the Met Police’s organised crime Commissioner seconded to the NCA – what he seems.

This time the team are forced to rescue an agent from Russia; fight organised crime in the UK and in France; rescue kidnapped women and the finale is set in the Provence area of Southern France – so where does the black magic come in.

Will they win and will they still manage to survive as they are finally caught up in crossfire between the CIA and Gangsters.

Magic Midnight

Midnight Magic brings together a lot of the characters from previous books to be the fourth in the series.

Magic Midnight follows the story of Parky’s Team of killers. Parky’s Teatime left them shot to bits and resting in the US.
Once again, they return to the UK to battle a Black Magic gang; incompetent and corrupt Politicians, and you obviously ask what has changed in the UK and its Politicians.
Treachery, double-dealing, stuffed to the right of them, stuffed to the left of them and still they try to volley and thunder.

Will Gris and Boy get back together?
Will Parky make up with Hazil.
Can Hazil ever stop betraying everyone and how many others can be trusted … especially Sir Arthus (Dirty) Dirstly.

 

FYOG – Don’t Wait Up

England is under a Dictatorship with four families effectively controlling the Dictator.

Acton Kade is unaware he is the son of a Resistance Leader assassinated by the Government and is now classed as an Outcast working in a Computer Centre.

As part of a project he secretly upgrades a wall communication device with more CPU, Memory, Artificial Intelligence and together they start to learn.

Deep down Acton just wants to go to work, come home and find some women to relate to although that finally drives him and Wall to start to take on the State.

 

FYOG – I May Be A Long Time

The Public Safety Correctional Consultants have now taken over from the Brands led Dictatorship with the ex-executives locked away without trial – as is Acton Kade.

Sken like Acton is also the son of a dead Resistance Leader and wants nothing to do with a revolution but like Acton is forced again and again to be some kind of hero.

In the meantime, Wall seems to have gone berserk and decided he wants an electronic mate, robotic children, and he wants Sken to build them.

Sken has fallen in love – he thinks – with Pearlie but now has Mum illegally living with him as well and Mum can’t stand him.

The treatment of Lauryn by her unknown father has made this an Adult book although not in the personal sense of the word.

What will happen; will Sken survive; will his relationship with Pearlie overcome his relationship with Mum.

 

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#Amwriting #writerslife Twitter appears to be blocking me from re-tweeting, claiming they have made a mistake. Now an internal server error when I try again.

I disagreed with a woman about these parties when you Tweete, re-tweet and then follow them, pointing out that I prefer people to follow me, by choice.

She then muted me; I block her and now Twitter blocks me from re-tweeting.

I don’t need Tweeter nor false followers.

I choose to follow for my own reasons and not to build up numbers of followers.

I have actually been doing some work and I will post some below but it is not a lot and I still have to add dialogue … still back on structure to be honest.

Dave

Masketh Tron and Sallesh Tron watched the entourage finally move from Toshon and followed at a distance. Already they could see the rocks rising and falling to the south and the ground moving again as it changed. Rivers were forming to the east and north with the sea flowing in from the west and south but more rocks rising to the south.
Their thoughts – read by Sheba Roc and Liand Roc on their progress didn’t progress to Stefen or Martan Matira. It was Griselda’s frequent stops as they tried to move as fast as they could that were causing the hold-ups and Michelle du Storme was riding closer to Griselda and talking urgently to her.
Griselda initially attributed her sickness to the Stasis chamber but the stops became more frequent and people were moving away from Griselda as she vomited. One of the problems in waiting for the Stasis chambers had been the lack of access to various pills that Griselda would normally have taken to avoid unfortunate problems with her love life. Now it seemed her sex life was producing yet another unfortunate problem and the presence of Michelle du Storme was also proving a handicap to Basil Droga and Gereft the Guard Leader for their appearances in her bed but they faced another handicap and one that would not vanish overnight even if Michelle left her alone.
Masketh and Sallesh requested the Wolfen to help with meat supplies so Barlang and Furlong drove some cattle to the evening camp and then quickly ripped the throats out of the animals. Needless to say, anyone with an appetite soon lost it as the Wolfen butchered the meat.
The Trons realised they’d have to find an alternative after that but come the morning and an empty stomach morning fires were blazing and the meat was on spits although Griselda was having trouble eating anything and there was still a hundred mile to travel to Matira. Eventually they made broth for Griselda and alongside the spits were some cracked Stasis chamber lids they had been using to drag loads on. The Stasis lids were an egg-shape to allow for a variety of customers and now served as boilers as the horses and travellers carried more.
One issue that did bother them was the bombs that hit the western prisoners camp. Although the water washed away the radiation they could still feel the land moving and it was continuing to move and land upheavals were increasing in strength. The tremors never stopped; the seas never stopped and the rocks to the south were disintegrating and almost moving to the south where new rocks seemed to be forming to join them.
The whole planet was dancing and not to the invaders’ tune but even as they watched the rocks to the north and the west moving they could see sections of Stefen’s castle falling down and rocks to the south of his castle were rising as was Griselda’s stomach although it fell after she was sick and they now started to run rather than complain from Griselda as well as the geography as they ran, dragging the meat filled Stasis chamber lids behind them.
What should have been a direct route ahead now meant facing rocks and ahead of them a large hole with water filling it and the hole in some parts was now beyond anyone guess as to its size. The only route for the migrants now was to veer north as there seemed to be no way forward to the east but even that was changing as land-quakes rose some areas and sank others but one thing was sure and that was the whole landscape was changing.
The bombs had set off a change-reaction beneath the surface which may have taken a while to finally erupt; long after they thought it had finished but to say they staggered and now ran was an understatement – they staggered from side to side as the country twisted and tore itself apart.
A trip of a hundred miles was now a detour to the north and thirty miles longer at least and increasing according to the Trons and finally after Sheba Roc took off they learnt the water blocking them to the west was twenty five mile long and up to five miles wide and the rocks moving together gave them very little time to decide anything as water and rocks were rising to the south and they were speeding to the north.
As they turned left and headed ten miles they could now see the sea some hundred foot short of the road. The sea receeded as they changed direction and moved to the east which was now green to the north but with rocks rising to the south. Griselda, herself was still rocky and progress was slow until finally the mountains to the north migrated to green and conifers whilst the rocks to the south seemed marginally smaller.
It took another stormy night before they past the last set of rocks and face a road leading north whilst a mile ahead another road led east and the arguments started.
Eventually it took Griselm and his sword plus Guards who seemed to be staying closer to him and Griselda and all the women to calm things down. Griselda Matira was waving her bridal knife; Alisia – Admiral Matira’s mistress was talking to the most strident and Michelle du Storme who seemed to bring peace wherever she was involved was speaking to the leaders – eventually, they continued to head east.

In Matira, Martan watched the waters swirling around the causeway and towards his castle and the water was still rising. He watched the crowds making their way with a degree of haste from the castle as the waters swirled in; the foundations linking the castle to the land swayed and vanished into the water with the castle slightly behind them as it sank and the cattle were already ahead of them and for a change they followed the cattle.
He turned back to look as the island the castle resided on disappeared until only the top turrets showed above the sea and the seas washed in as they ran to be ahead of the cattle through the narrow decreasing gap towards the camp and the remains of a road and there were no friends in that camp … they were Destraight not Astoria!

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#amwriting #amwritingfantasy re-write thoughts

I started to write this; got called off to hang the washing up; pans were overheating then getting stuff out of the freezer, which ended up reorganising it and people think that writing is a challenge.

The problems of losing half a book still plague me.

Martan was killed by Stefen before Griselda was pregnant and Griselda gave birth to children from Stefen; rewrite; Griselda is pregnant because she was put in custody prior to the Stasis chamber insertion on Dwarvia to check her out and that meant no birth control pills.

If I’m going to rewrite this, then it will be rewritten.

Dave

Admirals were forced into political marriages however they usually sought mistresses and they often didn’t care whose. The families normally found out and forced them out as the families considered political goals of more importance than mere enjoyment … possibly one reason why some many Admirals spent their lives invading other planets. Eventually the Admirals realised that whilst you couldn’t take your wife into space with you, you could certainly take a mistress and go flash bang in the Armada Class ship whilst you practised your assaults. Their mistresses then tended to live on the ships and the ship brains in the Armada Class ships usually preferred the Admirals to handle their mistresses as opposed to the Admiral’s sticky hands on their controls and so the mistresses were hidden and survived.

Stefen still watch them leave and stayed looking until he was sure no-one had turned back. With the waters receding most of the causeway should to all intents and purposes have ceased to exist – it was now just land.
There was still a five mile long gap of about half a mile wide leading from Toshon to Matira but on the south side of what had been the causeway rock you had the impression it was watching you. Nervous, twitching but the feeling of it watching you was something that almost made the rocks sentient.
They stretched some ten miles to the south and it was a few days hard walking to get to the five mile gap and Stefen intended for them to walk it … it would keep them out of trouble although he packed enough women to make their own choices and there weren’t very many!
Stefen had been neither helpful with transport or food despite Griselda producing her marriage knife and threatening him …. mind you, she had also threaten the few animals he had released for her trip but his Guards saw her on her way with the clubs they carried.
Stefen with forethought had his own personal Guards carrying weapons to protect him and they were needed when Griselda again tried to attack him with her marriage knife and had it clubbed from her hand but the long chain around her neck still held it to her as did the Guard who pulled back around her neck and shortened it … Stefen later regretted telling the Guard to release it as she struggled and appeared in a better colour to his mind as she choked.
The Guards before realising they could only use clubs had first tried to use their old weapons and Stefen had also tried to use the power from the Stasis chambers to charge them but the first a Guard who tried it found he and the Stasis inhabitants exploded – in future he would let the dwarfs out first. It had seemed as easy thing to just connect a cable and then connect that to a weapon, mind you, still Stefen with his usual honesty had someone else do this while he stood a good distance away.
When your weapons cease to exist the alternatives are wood or stone clubs but some of the Prisoners were already starting to look for metal and roughly melt it down into shapes but they weren’t giving them to the Admirals.

There are times to choose to greet a wife but Martan would never, ever, of his own free will choose to meet Griselda as a wife nor of anything else that had any value to him including his private areas … he’d never been interested in her leaving her Stasis chamber alive … had he’d been given the chance, he’d have smashed the lid, letting her sink to the depths she had yet to explore as was her due and stood on her Stasis Chamber until it sunk.
Sheba Roc stopped him – something she might regret as the magic, might not be part of Griselda Matira’s make-up but it was certainly latent in her; curling her eyelashes to match the sneer of her mouth and now a broomstick had turned up through a vortex that swirled in colours and so did the broomstick – some emotions can stretch beyond a small area and somehow Griselda’s had.
Stefen for himself preferred not see her at all and especially her semi-sentient broomstick which he thought would eventually erupt as it tried to force its way into everything but already Griselda or the broomstick had found Rafus who’d dipped his beard into magic and now understood the smell of burning whilst they poured water onto him, which was more than they could do for his brain.
Still there was little they could do to reduce her violence which was never latent and Stefen had no intention of doing anything but passing her on as far away as he could.
For a husband of Griselda Matira, Martan usually managed a brief greeting as her escaped.
Her idea of a bloody honeymoon metabolised and only failed to come to fruition with her then ruling your kingdom if you, on your honeymoon watch her marriage knife which was supposedly meant to be a symbol and not a weapon. It was also not meant to be a full knife!
Stefen in Toshon had spoken via Liand Roc to Sheba Roc who allowed him to see Martan’s visions of Griselda on a wedding night and Stefen although he wasn’t eating that often didn’t eat afterwards for some time. For Stefen, even when Griselda was viewed from a distance she still maintained the pressure for her departure to somewhere else at maximum speed to be a priority.
For Martan, the times when Martan wished to meet Griselda were usually when he carried a spade or shovel and faced a deep hole with a bomb in it … still to put his mind into perspective he was going to have to face her if she didn’t die on the way and he’d paid enough for there to be trouble.
A pity he’d never thought that Sheba Roc would talk to Liand Roc who talked to the Guards and Stefen. It was like a trouble-making neighbour finding out that all the trouble they were going to cause was known before they started their campaign … but it never changed any of his feelings towards Griselda … they were survival and his other plans had only led to Martan being told off by Sheba Roc; still there was only one bathroom planned for him.
For his guests there would be four bedrooms and a bathroom that never connected to anywhere and so he planned for Griselda to enjoy her privacy … or as much as he could supply. It should be enough to keep Griselda happy, if anything could and as far away from Martan as he could manage.
To find her quarters she would have to go north then west up the stairs then west again and half an hour in a damp and cold castle should cement her armour and keep her well away from him. Martan had re-enforced his bedroom Guard and his mistress would be his first support … he’d even brought in folk singers to keep Griselda back and Michelle du Storme and Basil Droga would be away from him as well.
Of the four spare bedrooms Griselda would have one, then Michelle, then Basil and then Rafus. Gereft would sleep in the barracks with the other Guards although Griselda would probably go through them as well.

Masketh Tron and Sallesh Tron watched the entourage finally move from Toshon and followed at a distance. Their thoughts were read by Sheba Roc and Liand Roc on the progress but one piece of information they didn’t pass on to Stefen or Martan Matira was Griselda’s frequent stops or Michelle du Storme riding closer to her and talking to her.
It would become evident before very long.
Griselda had initially attributed this to the Stasis chamber but the stops were becoming frequent and people were moving away from Griselda as she vomited. One of the problems in waiting for the Stasis chambers was the lack of pills that Griselda would normally take to avoid unfortunate problems with her love life. Now it seemed her sex life was producing yet another unfortunate problem.
The presence of Michelle du Storme was proving a handicap to Basil Droga and to Gereft the Guard Leader but it now appeared that there was another handicap and one that would not vanish overnight.
Masketh and Sallesh requested the Wolfen to help with the meat supplies and Barlang and Furlong drove some cattle to the evening camp and then quickly ripped the throats out of the animals. Needless to say, anyone with an appetite remaining after that, soon lost it as the Wolfen then butchered the meat. The Trons realised they’d have to find an alternative after that but come the morning after an empty stomach night, fires were blazing and meat was on spits although Griselda was having trouble eating anything and there was still a hundred mile to travel to Matira – eventually they were making broth for Griselda and alongside the spits were some cracked Stasis chamber lids they had been using to drag loads on. The Stasis lids were an egg-shape to allow for a variety of customers and now served as boilers as the horses and travellers carried more.

************************************************************************************

I haven’t gone through this bit again so still raw.

*************************************************************************************

Outside of the castle, areas were starting to build up, but not in the way Martan ever intended. To the west were a nest of houses cum hovels cum anything that you could think of. Beyond that to the north was an area now called ‘Mech Town’ and opposite that was an area they called ‘Shady Town’, which he would have demolished in due course but it catered to those needs that he preferred to ignore.
His main problem he felt before they’d found Griselda was Priests moving in and he still didn’t know where they came from. Stefen felt that belief should be in him, not some imaginary Gods but Stefen’s belief in him would have to be enough as no-one else seemed to believe in him.
Gods were appearing or so the new Priests claimed although they claimed anything; especially after several fiery occurrences that scorched opposing Priests – it was fought in the same as they fought for believers in them and most likely not the Gods they represented who’d he’d never heard off but to Stefen’s mind it spoke of magic and nothing and no-one should have magic in any area he controlled. The Priests would find out what fire was before too long. Priests could really live from inspired belief in Gods but a bacon and sausage sandwich in the early hours when you’re really praying for a bite to eat was when you really found belief and to Stefen that represented belief – when he was really hungry he would kill for a bacon and sausage sandwich.
What Gods the priests inspired by doing this might seem a subject for discussion as they bit deeply into the supplicant’s offerings but the Gods the Priests offered their thoughts to were the guys with the trays who ran the late night service to the temples.
Druncheon appeared as the dwarf God although looking like a puppet god and Gods don’t usually wear slippers but he was present in some form or other or so the Priests claimed.
Most Prisoners seemed to have the own Gods – often viewed from the gutter late at night.
Humanoids looked to – Astoron – who seemed to be available, often in a mask surrounded by priests holding him up but belief was usually after a bad day’s trading … especially when you were caught for short measure and short-changing.
Hanging by your thumbs while you balance on your toes to Stefen seemed an enlightened punishment and often encouraged prayer; usually to avoid to hanging the next time by your neck but his Guards did seem to be having an effect these days on the town and its inhabitants.
An Elven God had appeared according to rumour although no-one saw any Elves and the Elven temple never saw anyone but Priests – still it kept them off the streets and money was coming from somewhere.
The were no Gods for the Old Folk who spent too much of their time ducking attackers to consider a God as a defence as they, not Gods, were usually the target … well what use is a God to hide behind when he is transparent and theirs seemed to be but people who were ill tended to find them – the Old Folk, not the Gods but in truth no-one really who where the old folk came from
Some said they were bodies taken over by Humoids. Others said No. Their Wolfen, whilst others claimed they were bodies taken over by Elves. All Stefen knew was that the Prisoners seemed to spend a lot of time hunting them or seeking help. They were rumoured to be telepathic and always had blue eyes but some seemed to be dwarfs whilst others were considered to be humanoid but whether they existed or not everyone claimed to have some story concerning them.
The Old Folk’s culture, if they really existed seemed to be to help Prisoners and a lot of Prisoners were considered to have sort help, often in the shape of little jars but as rumours spread so the descriptions of them changed until they were now considered blue eyed, small, more sinew than muscle and usually lived by the sea.
To Stefen they seemed a myth but his hatred of magic led him and his Guards to seek them out but again and again they found empty houses which they then destroyed who Stefen never knew how they managed to stay one jump ahead of his Guards.

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#amwriting #amwritingfantasy To say I’m still working on stuff is to image Death taking a holiday and we are both on duty

I won’t have things right for longer we might live.

I should be developing things but my head says, you know what you doing.

Every-time I look at stuff I should have written it more … you define it … this is from a hobbyist old age pensioner who can still think.

Eventually I will stop typing but hopefully, not for a new years.

Hope you like it.

Dave

 

Admirals were forced into political marriages however they usually sought mistresses and they often didn’t care whose. The families normally found out and forced them out as the families considered political goals of more importance than mere enjoyment … possibly one reason why some many Admirals spent their lives invading other planets. Eventually the Admirals realised that whilst you couldn’t take your wife into space with you, you could certainly take a mistress and go flash bang in the Armada Class ship whilst you practised your assaults. Their mistresses then tended to live on the ships and the ship brains in the Armada Class ships usually preferred the Admirals to handle their mistresses as opposed to the Admiral’s sticky hands on their controls and so the mistresses were hidden and survived.

Stefen still watch them leave and stayed looking until he was sure no-one had turned back. With the waters receding most of the causeway should to all intents and purposes have ceased to exist – it was now just land.
There was still a five mile long gap of about half a mile wide leading from Toshon to Matira but on the south side of what had been the causeway rock you had the impression it was watching you. Nervous, twitching but the feeling of it watching you was something that almost made the rocks sentient.
They stretched some ten miles to the south and it was a few days hard walking to get to the five mile gap and Stefen intended for them to walk it … it would keep them out of trouble although he packed enough women to make their own choices and there weren’t very many!
Stefen had been neither helpful with transport or food despite Griselda producing her marriage knife and threatening him …. mind you, she had also threaten the few animals he had released for her trip but his Guards saw her on her way with the clubs they carried.
Stefen with forethought had his own personal Guards carrying weapons to protect him and they were needed when Griselda again tried to attack him with her marriage knife and had it clubbed from her hand but the long chain around her neck still held it to her as did the Guard who pulled back around her neck and shortened it … Stefen later regretted telling the Guard to release it as she struggled and appeared in a better colour to his mind as she choked.
The Guards before realising they could only use clubs had first tried to use their old weapons and Stefen had also tried to use the power from the Stasis chambers to charge them but the first a Guard who tried it found he and the Stasis inhabitants exploded – in future he would let the dwarfs out first. It had seemed as easy thing to just connect a cable and then connect that to a weapon, mind you, still Stefen with his usual honesty had someone else do this while he stood a good distance away.
When your weapons cease to exist the alternatives are wood or stone clubs but some of the Prisoners were already starting to look for metal and roughly melt it down into shapes but they weren’t giving them to the Admirals.

There are times to choose to greet a wife but Martan would never, ever, of his own free will choose to meet Griselda as a wife nor of anything else that had any value to him including his private areas … he’d never been interested in her leaving her Stasis chamber alive … had he’d been given the chance, he’d have smashed the lid, letting her sink to the depths she had yet to explore as was her due and stood on her Stasis Chamber until it sunk.
Sheba Roc stopped him – something she might regret as the magic, might not be part of Griselda Matira’s make-up but it was certainly latent in her; curling her eyelashes and now a broomstick had turned up through a vortex that swirled in colours and so did the broomstick – some emotions can stretch beyond a small area. Stefen preferred not see her and her broomstick which he thought would eventually erupt was the now pulsating broomstick was trying to force its way into everything.
Already she had found Rafus who’d dipped his beard into magic and now understood the smell of burning whilst they poured water onto him, which was more than they could do for his brain. Something that could not be said for her violence which was never latent.
Being a husband of Griselda Matira usually meant a brief greeting as you escaped with your life after her idea of a bloody honeymoon metabolised and failed to come to fruition with her then ruling your kingdom.
Stefen in Toshon had spoken via Liand Roc to Sheba Roc who allowed him to see Martan’s visions of Griselda on a wedding night and Stefen although he wasn’t eating that often didn’t eat afterwards for some time. For Stefen, even when Griselda was viewed from a distance she still maintained the pressure for departure to somewhere else at maximum speed.
The times when Martan wished to meet Griselda were usually when he carried a spade or shovel and faced a deep hole with a bomb in it … still to put his mind into perspective he was going to have to face her if she didn’t die on the way and he’d paid enough for there to be trouble. A pity he’d never thought that Sheba Roc would talk to Liand Roc who talked to the Guards and Stefen.
It was like a trouble-making neighbour finding out that all the trouble they were going to cause was known before they started their campaign … but it never changed any of his feelings towards Griselda … they were survival and his other plans had only led to Martan being told off by Sheba Roc; still there was only one bathroom planned for him.
For his guests there would be four bedrooms and a bathroom that never connected to anywhere and so he planned for Griselda to enjoy her privacy … or as much as he could supply.
It should be enough to keep Griselda happy, if anything could and as far away from Martan as he could manage. To find her quarters she would have to go north then west up the stairs then west again and half an hour in a damp and cold castle should cement her armour and keep her away from him.
Martan had re-enforced his bedroom Guard and his mistress would be his first support … he’d even brought in folk singers to keep Griselda back and Michelle du Storme and Basil Droga would be away from him as well. Of the four spare bedrooms Griselda would have one, then Michelle, then Basil and then Rafus. Gereft would sleep in the barracks only with the other Guards although Griselda would probably go through them as well.
Stefen had kindly sent a Guard and a dwarf with Griselda … they would be used to ensure she was suitably escorted.

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