Goliath Thunder: Sacrifice Released

A monument to sacrifice.

A monument to sacrifice.

Four stories, five players, and the unrelenting sensation that you can never go home again, Goliath Thunder: Sacrifice continues the long suffering tales of its predecessor The Sagas of the Iron Hearts: Fragments, elucidating the unimaginable victories and bitter defeats of the ironclad vanguards of the distant future. On battlefields of yet unrealized worlds, the very soil trembles, resounding painfully in the ears of a commander of cavalry, his vehicles poised on the hill, while with trepidation, whirling his eyes about, he grimly awaits the sight of those cyclopean limbs soon to be cresting the apex of that horizon hill. And while he awaits and grits his cross within his teeth, coming from the far horizon, with leaps and bounds to exceed the finest skimmer to ever grace human hands, a steel tower of finely-wrought legs and magnificent limbs bears the virtual armament of a heavy cruiser on her shoulders, eager for the spoil of the day. And within her armored auspices the pilot reminisces his stolen home, that glory is fleeting, and that this scene has played out before. And so it will again—a play of sacrifice—in the swirling contest and brutal melee of human pilots, riding the sixty-foot beasts of iron, striving to just survive to one more dawn.

After many sacrifices of my own, Goliath Thunder: Sacrifice, has finally been released.  Science fiction, mecha, cyberpunk, military science fiction, even horror–I don’t want to say that there’s something for everyone, as is the cliche, but there is much contained within.  It’s for sale on Amazon in both print and Kindle editions for $15.00 and $2.99 respectively.  I’d love to quote the international figures but this missive would begin to resemble a spreadsheet.  Buy it now.  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Tuesday Blues

I suppose you could call them that, but that’s not really the case.  Truth is that half of the electronics I rely upon to produce content have chosen this week and the previous weekend to completely and irrevocably shit the bed..  Honestly, I was lucky to pull the pertinent information from the hard disk of one so that I wouldn’t have to spend another week doing rewrites.  In all frankness, I’m very good at backing up my files, but my system so far has been to back up everything each week to another computer and an external media device and then to back up each month to a second external media device.  I suppose I failed somewhat, but the system is mostly effective.  So it’s going to take me somewhat more than five hundred dollars to replace the equipment lost, which is five hundred dollars I simply don’t have.  Between the website and a myriad number of hidden costs, I’m barely afloat.  So I’ll have to purchase hardware as money becomes available.  I should be able to replace the first unit at the beginning of next month, but I’ll be eating cup noodles for some time after. Not exactly an ideal diet, and I’m far too old to live like a college student.  Electricity bill burns through my wallet during the warmer months; this is when the air conditioner doesn’t explode trying to make a hundred and five degrees feel like eighty, seventy-five if I’m lucky. Read More …

Always a Good Decision

Spent most of the day inputting corrections from what was supposed to be the final proof back into the post-ultimate proof.  I can’t really describe my rage.  The exhaustion is quite palpable.  I suppose I’m just at a loss for words.  Stay in school, kids.  Be in bed by eight.  And don’t do writing, much less editing.  Rapid vision loss and hairy palms.

Have a picture of an obnoxious, small, furry animal.

kitties Dec2010 (10) new

I eat electronics.

Revenge of the Normans

Viking Siege of Paris

Viking Siege of Paris

I’ll admit, this one had me stumped for weeks.  I wrote this article several times over, and I’m still unsure if I’m really happy with it.  Such are my pains, my beloved audience.  Bear with me as we bear through this.

I think we need to understand, to begin, that Western Civilization did not always mean “Europe,” and for a while it meant much beyond.  Western Civilization only traveled as far as the Macedonians and Romans could carry it, the nascent ovum derived from the Athenian city-state.  Rome never traveled to the far North, barely extended into Eastern Europe whatsoever.  These absent peoples were assuredly Europeans but, at the time, “Westerners?”  Hardly.  The Vikings represent one example of a people that self-westernized, rather in the way that cats self-domesticated, eventually assimilating with the arrival of Catholicism upon their shores, which they nevertheless fought viciously, invited really by their importance generated by all their military adventurism.  To the greater fold of the West, they brought with themselves the new blood and vigor that the West would need to continue developing along new ideas and fronts while remaining indelibly “Western.”  It would be finally, and partly thanks to the Scandinavian influence, the absorption of Eastern Europe predominantly into the Western and Eastern Churches that brought about the completion of what would become the West before at last the launch into the Americas. Read More …

Status Update

I don’t like to leave too many gaps in the posting schedule. As such, today’s as good as any day to provide a status update.

The Gregory Samuels series is now more than half over, the total number of chapters being twenty-eight. There’s a lovely climax; I can assure you. I wrote the series to be something read over coffee in the morning with tussled hair, something that could be read, in pieces, quickly. I was also going to publish it in an animated, interactive format, but that unfortunately fell through when the embed software just did not work. That’s why all the pages show a (txt) suffix. They were intended merely for those that couldn’t display such software. Oh well.

I have previously published a pair of stories regarding an effectual Ms. Other and her various madhouse stories of murder. The two were intended to be part of a larger story, which at that time fell through thanks predominantly to issues of quality in the remainder, but frankly they were violent in a way that left even me uncomfortable. Couldn’t talk to mom, even on the phone, without feeling like I was being judged. Ultraviolence is acceptable in a fantasy or science fiction format and the like where there’s some psychological distance, but it’s altogether different to be machine-gunning a bunch of (relative) innocents in a bar, especially when it’s the protagonist doing the deed. Anyways, I went back and found the stories, two of which I thought could be rehabilitated. They are currently in the works. I may end up releasing a small volume of these stories in both paperback and digital editions. Read More …

Eliza the Pluck Part 2 Proof of Concept

This is part two and the final component of the Eliza the Pluck proof of concept, whose nature I discussed in the previous chapter.  We previously saw our players bandying words within a scummy bar, and that is where we find them again, hitherto unmolested.

“Come come now,” she replied, chastising, “enough about them and that, but now about you.  Are you not Jorgal Bloodaxe, adjudicator of Base-Booming Hold, and child of Vaddinghus Bloodaxe, its one-time exhortator?”

The mention of those several names seemed to strike the dwarf severely, drawing away the sutures of ancient pains and miserable woes to expose old wounds to new and shivering air.  Drawing up his blood-shot eyes, he replied only with a nod, ashamed to relay what was in his mind a truer truth.

“I am those things.  I am enough of those things for you.  Child…  you try my patience, and the gold doesn’t matter.  Speak now you what bothers before my patience is irrevocably lost and we should have no common cause for regular hospitality.” Read More …

Goliath Thunder: Sacrifice

Of no volition, both man and machine--and painfully.

Of no volition, both man and machine–and painfully.

So I’m releasing a book, very shortly.  The hard copy will be available very soon at a cost of $15.00, and on this thirtieth of this month the Kindle edition will be released at a cost of $2.99.

I could spend some time discussing what’s in the book, what it’s about, but I think I’ll let its description do the work for me.

Four stories, five players, and the unrelenting sensation that you can never go home again, Goliath Thunder: Sacrifice continues the long suffering tales of its predecessor The Sagas of the Iron Hearts: Fragments, elucidating the unimaginable victories and bitter defeats of the ironclad vanguards of the distant future. On battlefields of yet unrealized worlds, the very soil trembles, resounding painfully in the ears of a commander of cavalry, his vehicles poised on the hill, while with trepidation, whirling his eyes about, he grimly awaits the sight of those cyclopean limbs soon to be cresting the apex of that horizon hill. And while he awaits and grits his cross within his teeth, coming from the far horizon, with leaps and bounds to exceed the finest skimmer to ever grace human hands, a steel tower of finely-wrought legs and magnificent limbs bears the virtual armament of a heavy cruiser on her shoulders, eager for the spoil of the day. And within her armored auspices the pilot reminisces his stolen home, that glory is fleeting, and that this scene has played out before. And so it will again—a play of sacrifice—in the swirling contest and brutal melee of human pilots, riding the sixty-foot beasts of iron, striving to just survive to one more dawn.

Eliza the Pluck Part 1 Proof of Concept

This is something that I wrote years ago.  It was intended to be the first chapter in a book, but other obligations carried me away so long that when I returned my ideas about the book had changed so dramatically that this chapter simply couldn’t be used.  Nevertheless, it has been edited to a degree, but it remains rough.  The whole thing is nearly four thousand words, so I decided to break it into two parts.  Even so, it was not an elegant division.  Anyways–enjoy.

The evening sky boiled and billowed with the bilious fury of a vengeful god pounding his indomitable fists upon the invincible vault of heaven.  The black and boisterous clouds that consumed altogether the starry lights of the glittering firmament resounded and sharply shimmered bright with his fury that struck superlative sparks from the dusky shroud of pregnant darkness.  The rain came down effluvial and did not merely soften and moisten the closely-crowded paths of rootless mud that proved a slippery obstacle amidst the unrelenting downpour; indeed, the streets were virtually abandoned of soaked and shivering travelers, far more numerous with the swaying torches ensconced within leaded glassware that danced choral amidst the pitiless wind that bade them bounce upon their housings. Read More …

Sagas of the Iron Hearts: Fragments, “The Fall”

The following is the first of five short stories from my recently published book, The Sagas of the Iron Hearts: Fragments, which can be found here and the Kindle Edition here.  If you enjoyed it, you can peruse at your will the remaining four for the low low price of $5.99 paperback  and $0.99 kindle edition.  Every sale is a step towards paying my utilities and a step away from being evicted from my meager lodgings by my girlfriend, whose mother warned her about me.

Anyways: The Fall

1.

sagas_front_v2Lost amidst the infinite specks of starry sky there hurtled through the void an errant youth huddled within the still belly of a metal monolith.  The dusky ovaloid capsule—engraved with the ancient production markings of an age beyond memory, scored and seared with centuries of use—was a thing monstrous, several stories in length.  Its wild-eyed youth of fluttering heart, the traveler comfortably enshrouded within the armored auspices of the soaring bulwark, could strangely think only of his own inconsequence—how small he was against the titanic backdrop of stars and galaxies that would dwarf him just as easily as the events at hand—and his own part in them.  Dread ruminations of catastrophic failure, that there is no undying glory, crept, slithering like a poisonous thing, unbidden through the hollows of his gray matter, as, with some disbelief, he remembered the sparkling image of the tiny speck he observed from the brazen bridge of the vanguard cruiser, that this tiny point in the umbra sky constituted itself a whole world with its own millions of souls—his destination.

He would drift nearly two hours, only the occasional buffeting of the maneuvering thrusters to keep him company, as he lingered still and tried to calm his respiration, suspended in his cockpit amidst the uncomfortable guard of attitude gel.  It was a long time, two hours, to remain in this state of suspended animation; it was a long time to be cogent but still; life must be murderous for snipers.  By the time he arrived, by the time the defenders got wind of his insertion, it would be altogether too late.  Minutes away now, his ovaloid capsule would come brilliantly alight in the fires of the decelerating atmosphere, roaring groundward with the crackling flames of the sidereal inferno.  It was an impossible feat, virtually unheard of since the time of the rebellions—cast planetside from the vanguard cruiser in orbit of the most adjacent moon—to sojourn alone across so vast a distance with only the protection of maneuvering thrusters and come to a gentle collision with a precision of mere feet upon a world none the wiser, a frozen ball of violet idiosyncrasies under the care of a military junta entirely unprepared for the violence to follow. Read More …