#amwriting #wip Again Raw

I am getting some writing done but in the main it is standard ideas, thoughts structure, development and everything will certainly change but the idea is keep the story flow in the direction  I want it and I am putting more detail in, on an ad-hoc basis.

Not very professional but at the moment, I couldn’t give a damn.

Dave

 

 

This way, when the thermonuclear explosives are detonated, the power would not be contained within the warhead but move ahead of the warhead and explosive force thus reducing the main force but putting the radiation ahead of the bomb while weakening it so the radiation killed people but left the buildings standing and the Admirals loved this idea as they could immediately move in and so it wasn’t Scout Ships that were scouting Destraight but attack ships seeking the targets.

The people of Destraight watched as the ships circled above them and most immediately panicked and run for the bolt holes – the politicians ran for their castles and the bombs reigned on the castles; the prisoner drop points and because at least one Admiral could not resist destroying, lethal bombs also rained as he turn the air and land into something no-one could endure … his name was Percival de Bowed – a name now remembered.

The various races had already moved as much as the could but the Trons above ground were burnt alive and so were the Minuets. The Rocs and Rock Trolls had protection but the bombs of the other Admirals penetrated and killed whilst Percival de Bowed’s bombs destroyed the land and the races.

Those who’d managed to get deep enough survived by instinct but a land and its people were being killed for glory and possession.

Four of the Admiral’s bombs were targeted at the Castles to kill everyone in them but Percival de Bowed’s bombs seemed to be random. One was between his and James Droga’s castle with a second and third to the north-east of his castle and ten to twenty miles away. He had in fact cut himself and the Droga castle off from everything but a route to the east.

A fourth bomb exploded near the prisoners camp some ten miles from Toshon castle and the final bomb landed some ten miles from the Lodge. The Admirals had not known of the move to Toshon but by accident Percival de Bowed had nearly destroyed it whilst Matira, deserted in the floods some four hundred years before had been cleaned bombed. The computer built castles had protection build into the structure and would survive but a dirty bomb had already taken out one prisoners camp, whilst another hit the area around the Lodge.

The power of the Attack and Scout ships however, was a drain on the Admiral’s space support systems and as power now dropped to various low levels tubes automatically appeared onto the planet without waiting and prisoners and associates were dropped in, in more ways than one, before the Admirals realised.

Where the clean bombs had gone the old prisoner camps still existed – kept almost as monuments – but where de Bowed’s dirty bombs had gone there were now large radioactive holes.

The four Admirals faced disaster as their power ran out and they were running for the tubes with protective suits on and down to the polluted planet as all the ships started loosing power but one Admiral also had nuclear protection and a very limited lifespan if the other Admirals found him and Percival de Bowed was already at a castle to the north-west.

The new prisoners and associates were dumped at the site near Toshon; the one near Ascan and near the Lodge. The Toshon site some miles from a Percival de Bowed dirty bomb but the sites near castle Jamesson, and between the Lodge and Matira were clear.

Once the prisoners near Toshon had been wiped out – four hundred years by the sea sweeping in and now by a dirty bomb but already the waters were sweeping into the hole left by the bomb and debris, bodies and radiation were floated together. Toshon once again was a seaside castle to the west.

I suppose, if you were alive, life became interesting. Dwarfs normally live very long lives and now Marcel Droga was meeting an old James Droga; Stefen Matira was in Matira whilst Martan Matira was in Toshon and Peter Jamesson was meeting David Jamesson. No-one was meeting Percival de Bowed however that was by his choice and although Angus du Storme’s castle was shielded by mountains, his castle had been bracketed by two of Percival’s dirty bombs.

When the Admirals thought about it looked fairly obvious that Percival’s main target for his bombs had been to destroy the Droga and Du Storme castles; leaving his own as the castle in the north-west. Percival’s dinner invitations had now reached zero and the only punch served would come from a fist.

One other result of Percival de Bowed’s actions was the bomb by the Lodge also destroyed the sea defences and while the water sweeping in hadn’t touched the Lodge it had cut off the north-east and north-west sections of Destraight. Matira was cut off, apart a narrow causeway to the west.

The prisoners in the camp were now literally prisoners with in theory, no where they could go and that was nearly forty thousand people. They couldn’t touch the fish as they were radioactive and whilst the explosion site was now under the sea, and they were forty miles from the site they were now eight miles away from the water and they as their predecessors had been, were manacled; unable to move at speed or with any precision.

The Trons had nowhere to escape as the forests burnt, nor the Minuets although the Trons ran for the water and Minuets tried to fly to safety.

The Rocs in the mountains near Toshon were partially shielded from the blast but not the radiation however the people in the towns near the castles were obliterated.

The castles had protection designed into them from the beginning but outside, the towns had none and whilst the buildings remained intact, the people died; the food, the animals and those who hadn’t bolt holes and didn’t bolt became the Admiral’s main destruction dish of death. No-one had ever told them of the clean bombs that kill everything but not the buildings. Dirty bombs normally kill by immediate blast and then by radiation, either directly or carried on the wind that the bomb creates.

The castles survived but everything else either died immediately or slowly, afterwards – there was no clean solution. The sea swept in at various places and once again the country was cut off as if it were strategic bombing and several bombs did in fact miss their targets completely. Over the next twenty four hours all bomb sites were flooded as the seas poured in however a new map of Destraight would show Percival de Bowed’s castle surrounded by water with the nearest land some ten miles to the east as it seemed to have been detached from the land.

Droga and Du Storme’s castles just escaped but De Bowed’s castle was not even on land any more and the prisoner’s camp outside Toshon was under water however a De Bowed dirty bomb had killed them before the waters flowed in so at least it was probably quicker than drowning.

The major issue for James Droga and Marcel Droga that both were alive but now in the same place.

With the dirty bombs, Argus du Storme also wanted revenge and Percival de Bowed might not think he was lucky, stuck in sea but the other Admirals wished to stick him somewhere else.

Stefen and Martan Matira still didn’t know the other existed and Stefen was locked away in the south-east of the country, in an abandoned castle with only one habitable floor created four hundred years ago.

The Admirals were not achieving their goals and already the keys were passing amongst the prisoners – freeing them from the manacles as the Rocs managed to communicate and used the keys from previous Admirals and the Admirals were not only losing their ideas as the previous Admirals had but a slave force supposed to be bonded to them for being released from their manacles wasn’t happening although the Admirals felt they’d settled in.

The politics started as James Droga and his small guard were overwhelmed; the same for David Jamesson – leaving Droga castle with Marcel Droga and Ascan castle with Peter Jamesson as leaders – in their own eyes at least. Two Dwarfs, they say is an argument, three, a war, Marcel Droga and Peter Jamesson upped the ante.

Argus du Storme concentrated on his castle yet again, all on one floor but spread underground by a computer program. Cursing computer glitches he’d already started work on vents to the surface and getting air into the vaults but creating vents was a chicken and egg process with the people running around as if they were … well … chickens.

Stefen Matira had woken Griselda Matira – his wife – an assassin who was probably a necessity in clearing out the deadwood and Griselda was good at wood clearing but within himself did he want a woman who put a knife to his throat whilst making love or in a lot of other throats as a hobby.

He’d also woken Runnel – a daughter … he and Griselda would have time to produce a male child but although running the country was far more important and Griselda would rather kill than make love, even with a knife he did wonder whether there was enough killing to keep Griselda happy … it had all seemed so easy and then people were sliding off his back like slime but temples were slime; being built; prisoners meeting in secret to free themselves and the temples helping them – there shouldn’t be any temples – no-one needed prayers … he ruled and that should be enough and he would destroy the freed Prisoners and the Temples.

They had wiped the Trons and Minuets telepathy – anyone’s true thoughts of the Admirals ceased … yet, some of the Trons and Minuets with their telepathy survived in the north-east but were hunted and killed when Stefen found them but the Minuets could fly, and the Trons – being wood – could float so some of the old races were finding refuge although one of Percival’s dirty bombs had landed some twenty miles from the Lodge which is where most were heading for and he laughed at what they would find.

Had he know that the Lodge had refuges and bolt-holes and when the sea swept in – yet again – diluting the radiation as the floods protected the survivors in various ways including sweeping the radiation away although food was a bit short, would he have had the brain to understand?

Rafus – once one of Griselda’s lovers, and with Griselda you were either be dead or a ‘Lover’ and love was always with a knife at your throat for performance or in it, if you failed or lacked interest … with luck you could managed both and escape … you’d better be fast, although not too fast in bed.

Rafus believed in magic and liked its allure. Dwarfs lived a long time unless they’ve met Griselda, and to Rafus, any night was a bad night when you met, Griselda.

Still it gave him time to research some magic as he tried to keep her happy and now with belief flooding in people were building temples and Gods were said to be appearing or so the new Priests claimed; especially after several fiery occurrences that Rafus knew were created by Priests using fireworks but it inspired belief, and belief inspired people and the priests, and in due course, belief in Gods.

At times it was close whether he felt actually safer with belief or Griselda as the Gods and belief did seem to have some problems but Griselda seemed to be causing even more trouble as she passed amongst the castle and its inhabitants to the point that everyone was checking their pensions and backs. Griselda, currently in the main functional area of the castle was near the King’s bedroom but it possessed several entrances and guards around all of them, due to his tastes and desire for survival. Griselda was currently using the Barracks sleeping areas during the day and the King hoped, also at night.

Rafus prayed she was using them tonight – another God prayer – hopefully she would be still and stay there as Rafus made his way slowly to the Kings Gate and out of the castle but Rafus was out of luck. Griselda was already on her way to reducing the Barrack Guards by those who failed to satisfy her but something crept into mind causing a moment’s anguish as she searched for someone who could satisfy her – Rafus; she felt him leave the castle but decided to let him go; it might be more fun that way and another person to manipulate was almost as much fun as sex. No-one could say Griselda wasn’t even handed – she killed with her left or right hand and Rafus still had some uses for her, so he could have some recreation, if he didn’t push it too far but outside of Matira there was very little recreation so she would be lenient for now.

Admirals didn’t trust their own kind or prisoners, no matter who were being freed for political reasons, and Dwarfs with snap chains were slaves as much as anyone but could well be freed – just a touch of the Amulet freed you but it would cost service for the rest of your life so many wonder if the difference was worth it, when you mind a key from the early Admirals. Leaving the main castle gate, Rafus passed a high wall on the left; a parade area on the right with a Plaza for the Admiral and Queen Griselda as she know named herself. Beyond that was ‘Shandy Town’ and the remaining homes on the left were an area they called ‘Mech Town’.

Weena Maybury was a Dwarf and she’d woken up on an Armada Class prisoners’ ship for a use – her being used was her use. Weena was on the streets raising the money to pay the money-lender for the little freedom she could buy from her snap chain touching an Amulet and so many Amulets never did anything. Snap chains if they broke drove the Dwarf wearing it insane.

Wolfen might be called ‘Old Stock’ but they did usually eat their meat at a table although it was never a good idea to give them a choice of spoons; in Griselda’s case the knife was the easy option.

Yes, the Admiral’s plans … like themselves … were ill-thought out, and relied on domination, force and destruction and now the survivors were plotting the Admiral’s destruction.

The world; invaded by the seas after the Admiral’s bombs rained down on it, defined only by the rising and falling land-masses and egos of the Admirals – forty thousand dead for the Admiral’s egos; food stocks and two compassionate leaders wiped out by their relatives in the Dwarf fashion as they killed.

Yet another Dwarven driven Admiral excursion destroying another planet but this time driving People underground who called themselves People.

They started to build their own world again but underground and over the four hundred years they built and took their revenge on the Admirals.

The People, in their own words and thoughts started in Toshon. The Lodge was now an island called Dagril. They’d built underneath to De Bowed castle as they built underneath others for their first revenge but when they saw what it had become they left it alone; then there was Ascan, Matira and eventually they had completed an underground route covering every major area, especially including the Admiral’s castles; even Toshon after Martan Matira was poisoned. They had Rock Trolls, Slurms and a People who hated and sought revenge.

Stefen Matira took over both castles and favoured Toshon but he didn’t move far from the castle walls which kept increasing in size, unless in force.

That Toshon had been owned by a relative made it almost a gaudy trinket worth more than his own. The bombs, however, had changed Destraight to what the Admirals now called Astoria.

To the People it would always be Destraight.

Rafus Matira had made sure his eyes were grey and his height was five foot four – it wasn’t difficult. All babies in the Matira Clan were operated on at birth to ensure they met the Matira definition. Those who failed; usually failed terminally but some were dumped into boxes for the rubbish to dispose of, and in Rafus’ case, his mother hid the modifications until the scars healed but the stigma stayed and he was never a ‘true Matira’.

Sometimes he dreamed of being a real Matira … sometimes he dreamed of being free … sometimes he dreamed of escape; mostly he dreamed of a female dwarf and his liaison with her and what he thought was his magic as a dwarf but he daren’t let Griselda know of that, and it was difficult as Griselda, who Rafus felt should never have been woken up, took over the castle.

Stefen was Ruler enough but he only killed for personal gain; Griselda killed for pleasure but as she killed more and more as the town grew again; people just ignored the bodies – posterity has its price, as long as it isn’t yours. In Griselda’s case, it was starting to be everyone else’s price.

No-one lived without Griselda’s mark and you wore a clove of garlic as a ‘G-man’ but usually in a bag; in Rafus’ case, he wore the bag low.

Dwarfs do tend, when not killing each other, to manage beyond four, usually heavily scored centuries and Rafus hoped to manage that and now he was again meeting Weena.

The gold he would give her was not for her services, of which he availed himself. He wanted something more and with Griselda he couldn’t hide enough.

Weena could give him a child and he would rob and kill for that … including Griselda he thought. He needed something and Weena was happy to take the money and worry about the consequences … later … she could always get rid of a baby and keep the gold flowing as he sort the next.

The only problem for Griselda was that life was not settling down as she had planned. There was no empire for her. She could harass and stalk Stefen but too much and Stefen turned on her, especially as his people died.

Griselda was considering a move north but until the waters around the Lodge subsided … and those people praying as she passed, dropped … she would rule … she would crush the temples if she ruled and she would not lose her place as the Principal Wife, so she had killed but only those who deserved it. Stefen never paid any attention to anyone and called himself a ruler … alright … he called himself Admiral but the prisoners were there, he had the medallion and it never left his neck but once she had him by the neck, it would come off – what was she talking about … Stefen … he knew … why should she hide her lovers – he might be in love with power … she didn’t care about power; control was enough and she liked inflicted pain and there would be plenty of ‘inflictions’ if she had her way. So Stefen was looking for a new wife … haah … he thought she didn’t know … Tramas would need a few guards tonight and the new bath was ready for her with those pictures on the ceiling to keep Tramas interested as it descended.

One of the problems she didn’t know about, and there were a lot for a wannabe killer cum ruler, was plumbing, and plumbers talk, although usually about how they will take a month to arrive and then sucking through their back teeth before they quote a price for their turning up but this plumber knew which side his gut was buttered on as they draped him over an ant-hill, and he was seeing red while he talked, so it might have helped if the bathroom Tramas was occupying was to the north-east of the castle and not to south-west where the Admiral’s bath was highly guarded and adjoining his bedroom, as a very clean Tramas joined him without the sky falling on her which is more than could said for Griselda who found herself placed in the bath and left to watch the ceiling. Unfortunately, Stefen believed that people such as Griselda learnt from lessons and he was wrong.

Griselda headed north as fast as she could move before using the narrow path to the west to avoid the Lodge floods with Peter Jamesson’s castle as the target.

Stefen now ordered Griselda’s people weeded out and propelled in the same direction she had taken – future centuries would not thank him but a daughter – Runnel did, as she eventually gave birth although once again she was from Griselda’s line and Stefen would have the baby watched like a hawk whilst Rafus and Weena were working, in their own way, on the future in the village.

Weena, quite honestly gave a new meaning to the idea of Poverty that even British Politics hadn’t yet defined and Rafus, having hid in her room until Griselda was out of the town breathed more than a sigh of relief.

Back at the castle, Stefen had now had the plumber placed in the bath and chained to the taps while the bath was filled. It would be good for the ant-bites, and he had a few lined up for a good bath before the ceiling was replaced but the one person he didn’t feel sorry for was Peter Jamesson. Griselda for Stefen was a political marriage and on Dwarvia her family had, to a degree kept her under control but on Astoria, her killer instinct became insufferable as she did and without the need to pay homage to her family she could join those she’d killed … he should have killed her but old habits die – at least as far as he was concerned, and she would do more damage to Peter Jamesson than he could.

Even though the town breathed more than a sigh of relief from hiding as Griselda and her accolades rode past, anyone not manacled and wearing a bag of garlic was stopped by Guards.

True the manacles were hanging from one arm and garlic was in short supply but no-one who had been released stayed and more and more were struggling to get to the Lodge but also to Toshon and then up to Marcel Droga and Argus du Storme. The Lodge was the choice but rumours were already spreading of the Lodge being deserted after the Admiral’s attacks; even though the radiation had been washed away. Release keys were said to be lost and three were missing and with the Prisoners who’d come before but joining the Prisoners underground fought with most desires to live.

The north-east and north-west were said to be stilled natural with Old Folk there in the forests and the bombs had altered the shape of the world but to all intents and purposes, they were still slaves.

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About Dave Page

I'm now working on the Mi Kee project. Published books: Parky's Lunch, Afters and Teamtime, and Magic Midnight are the books in the Parky's espionage series. FYOG - Don't Wait Up and I May Be A Long Time are the two books in the FYOG series. The Good, The Bad, And The Awful Poetry Book is not that awful and all available on Amazon. Dave served with the Royal Navy for 8 years including 2 years in an ex Japanese Execution Camp in Singapore before embarking on a career of Accountancy and IT lasting some 40 years in Europe, the UK and the Far East before writing. During his Royal Naval Service Dave represented 500 guys on a Welfare Committee for two years and worked on two Royal Tournaments including putting up pay with the Bagpipes practising in front of his office and the RAF Dogs joining in behind him. Leaving the Royal Navy Dave worked in a Funfair and a Pub of the Year in London. Born in London, Dave lived in Chelsea for 10 years and now lives in Gloucester. Dave on Amazon is https://www.amazon.com/author/davepage
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