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Wednesday, January 25th, 2006
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Note: Megan sent me a song a few days ago. I sat down and wrote this a little while afterwards. Just a conversation between Kat and El, nothing special, just something they must think about a lot.
"If I were to die today, would you come looking for me?"
It was one of those questions you brought up while lounging around in the sun on the beach, when your brain wasn't hampered by other more important matters to attend to. The salt in the air snuck up your nose and kept pinching it, a lion tamer proding at the big cat thoughts. The soft fuzzy kittens of whimsy bathed in the sunlight outside the iron cage of daily routine. A perfect day at the seaside for certain.
Elliot rolled onto his side and considered Kat for a moment. The edges of the gingam picknick blanket spread out beneath them jumped in the wind, trying to wrap themselves around him. The sun was nearing the horizon, it's golden rays rushing over the waves to meet them, making him squint a little.
"Don't say that, I don't even want to think about you dying." He said finally, brushing some sand off of his raggedy paint spattered jeans. "Besides," he said after another moment of listening the the waves, "it's not the sort of thing you talk about on a sunny day."
"Well, I'm just curious," Kat said through upturned lips. She lay spread eagle, taking up most of the space on the tiny cloth island amid the sand dunes. This was on account of Elliot being so damn skinny, she had told him. "And really, would you rather talk about it at the witching hour in some moldy old library? Or even better, leave it to my death bed?"
"Kat!" Elliot chided, shifting around uncomfortably. Unable to find a position that distracted him from the thoughts of a cold white hospital bed, he settled on rolling over and wrapping himself around his girl.
Kat lifted one eyelid, and laughed at him. "You're shirt's all wet still," she complained. The drying salt was rasping against the skin her two peice didn't cover, which was quite a reasonable amount of skin indeed. "And you didn't answer my question. Would you?"
"Would you stick around to haunt me?" Elliot countered, bare toes shaping the sand underneath the cloth idly.
"Well, if I did," Kat grinned, toying with his wind crimped hair, "what would you do?"
"What kind of question is that?" Elliot grumbled, but allowed his thoughts to wander down that trail for a while. He let out a sigh to join the gusty breeze. "It wouldn't be you though Kat, it would only be a memory of you. Something imprinted on the fabric of space/time - "
Kat placed a finger on his lips. "For a moment, Elliot, try not to use your brain. I know what all the present theories surrounding paranormal activity are. I also know that they are, at best, a great big educated guess." She shifted beneath him a little, stretching out her long limbs like a cat sunbathing, before turning her attentions back to him. "Would you try to talk to me?"
"I...I don't know." Elliot ran his tounge across his teeth, and let it sit in his cheek while he thought some more. Goosebumps had begun to rise on his arms and down his back. He reasoned his wet shirt was the culprit. "You're the one that talks to the ghosts we run into; I'm about as sensitive to that kind of stuff as a stick.
"Maybe I wouldn't even be able to see you at all..."
The words hung heavy in the air, like the blue water bathed in oil in a wave bottle.
"I'd find a way to get your attention," Kat said decisively, at last.
"What if you couldn't?" Elliot furrowed his brow. "You might be three inches infront of my face screaming your lungs out, and I wouldn't be able to hear you."
"Well, if I couldn't," Kat shrugged, nonchallant, " then I couldn't I suppose."
"I'd find you," Elliot said quickly. "Somehow."
"You wouldn't go pulling some sort of Frankenstein buisness, would you?" Kat narrowed her eyes at him, the sun lending them a bit of it's fire. "You wouldn't go calling me up from the beyond, or anything stupid like that?"
"Because I'd have to slap you, Elliot Ferguson," Kat continued after the nonresponse had gone on too long for her liking.
"I wouldn't do anything stupid," Elliot said, rolling his eyes.
"No, you'd do something brilliant, and it would be stupid. I know you." Kat shook her head, "You'd start out playing innocently with a ouji board and end up suckering Finn in to helping you build some sort of paranormal walky talky. You're just like that."
Elliot snickered. "Well, maybe. But it would work, I bet."
"What if it didn't? Or I mean, you just couldn't find me. If I wasn't there...if, you know...there isn't anything after you die?"
Silence.
"I told you.
"I'd still find you, somehow.
"Even if I had to invent an afterlife to go looking for you in..."
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, January 17th, 2006
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Lots of talk about the old book happening. Most of it has nothing to do with pirates. But I haven't written about phazereth in ages, and it was always through our point of view, because it was a HORRIBLE MARY SUE. All of it. But I figured, heck, so long as nobody knew outright it was the authors talking, it couldn't hurt. And we're nowhere near the main characters this time around. This entry is just drivel. Don't expect anything refined. This is just me trying to jump back into a world I haven't visited in ages. And it's changed so much now. See if you can spot anyone familiar, it should be fairly obvious I would hope.
_ _ _
"Well hell, we're the only ones without a flag here..." the dark haired woman on her ebony mount mummbled underneath her breath. Because it was raining so hard, the only other person to hear her was her traveling companion. "I said," she repeated, jabbing her elbow into the other woman who rode at her side, "we need a flag."
"I heard you, I just don't give a damn," the smaller woman snipped, rubbing her side. After five days journey in less than faviorable conditions, little else mattered to her except food and a warm bed.
The dark haired woman ignored her, and swept her hand out dramaticly to frame the long line of tall proud men on their fine steeds, slithering their way up the impossibly steep hillside in the downpoor. "Look at them! Bunch of cads. Think they can shove us to the back of the line to step through all of their horse shit just because we're sucessful buisness women..."
"No, they think we're a couple of theiving pirates," her companion said aimably. She flicked her reigns, "Which of course we are, captain. Which makes -them- the idiots for trusting their backs to us."
The captain grinned at this. "Perhaps they are. Still, we should have a flag out, if only to mock them. You -know- how much I enjoy a good mocking skipper."
The skipper rolled her eyes towards the heavens. The heavens dripped in them, and made her blink and curse profusely and creatively, in the way only a seaman (or woman,) know how. "I thought we were supposed to be respectable buisness women on this trip. I don't think raising the Calico Jack will make us respectable. You're confusing respect and fear again, captain."
"It's the very same thing," the saptain said airily. "You see that kingy there, up at the very front, girl?"
"The King of Vath, ruler of the High Elves, Lord of -"
"Yes, yes, that bloke. You think he has the respect of his people?"
The skipper raised an eyebrow. From what she'd heard, the young king was still a child, bumbling in most respects, leaving all the important decisions to his court. "Well, they haven't de-throned him yet, so I'll have to say yes."
"Hah!" the captain tilted her head back and laughed uproarously. "Well, his father did anyways. And how do you think he won their respect?" Without waiting for her reply, she plunged onwards. "He took it from them, put the fear of the Gods into them! And when they rebelled against him?" She tittered a little, and jerked her head towards another fleeting dark figure against the horizon.
"That's really Talirung's new king then?" the skipper let out a low whistle, and tapped her horse up into a faster walk. "I'd only caught glances of the flag, I couldn't be sure. What would bring the Talion's here I wonder? I thought they were still rebuilding their homeland after the mad old king's reign."
"The Talions have been kissing arse since then; I suspect this is more of the same," the captain shrugged, disloging streamlets of raindrops from her mantle. "My point is, no matter how many new words the nobles will come up with for it, fear is and always has been the only way to keep the crowns on their heads."
"And the coins in our purses," the skipper laughed. It was a well known fact that, despite the reputation their fleet had on the seas and on land, Captain Gordon and her crew were the fiercest, most cunning, and more importantly, the richest band of miscreants in the four lands. It was a matter of pride to them, and a matter of economics for everyone else.
"Exactly," the captain said with a wink. "There's no shame in admiting either. Although, I haven't seen a king worthy of his crown in this line up, so I doubt that they would."
"You'd best watch what you be saying, milady," came a deep baritone from behind them, cutting through the clop of hooves in the night. "Wouldn't want you getting into any trouble now."
"Well look at this! A Warden, colours and all," the captain beamed, turning in her saddle to see a tall man hunched over in his against the rain, green hood pulled over his face. She flipped the hood back playfully, "And here I thought they were just nursery rhymes!"
The Warden offered her a small smile, steel blue eyes glinting with the barest trace of humor.
"Have their highnesses banished you to the back as well then, Warden?" the captain continued, "or do you just enjoy the company of fellow miscreants such as yourself?"
"I couldn't imagine two fine upstanding ladies such as yourselves associating with my likes," the Warden chuckled. "No, I'm patrolling the line, as I'm wont to do. And as it's my duty to guard your backs, I mention you may want to keep your conversations on more safe topics, such as the weather."
"How can you call this storm safe, I just about slipped and broke my neck in the mud this morning," the skipper grumbled, watching the Warden warily.
The Warden shrugged. "Simply making observations, miladies. Tensions are running high from the front of the line right down to it's tail end. I would hate to see the both of you hurt because of it." He gave them one last smile, no threat lingering in his friendly words they could detect before he clucked at his mount and disapeared into the woods behind them again.
"Well that was unnerving," the skipper muttered, setting her eyes forward to stare at the muddy road again.
"Entertaining at any rate. Besides," the captain said with a wicked grin, "he wasn't so hard on the eyes while he stayed..."
"I'll give you that," the skipper admitted, then let out a frustrated sigh. "Gods, when are we going to get to the top of this damned hillock? If that note had said it would have taken this long, I would never have come."
"Yes you would, or I would have had you flogged for insubordination," the captain grinned, and slapped the back of her companion's head. "Cheer up. The Warden will be waiting for us at the top..."
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, November 16th, 2005
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Well, it's been a little while since anyone's posted here. I was a horrible person and wrote another horrible snippet for Allison, so she demanded something happy and fluffy. This is my attempt. It's a little skewered, but I think it will work for my penance. Besides, there's not nearly enough written about Zach these days.
In other news, there are high hopes to get the first few drafts of M.U. out by February for Kei-Kon. At least so we can advertise it then. I suppose we'll see how all that goes. Enjoy.
Zach sprinted down the alleyway, the Hunters in steadfast pursuit. Zach had been frightened many times before in his life. He hated the feeling, and he's sworn he wouldn't be affraid again ever since he'd been bitten, what was it now, fourty odd years ago now. He'd turned becoming a monster into a valuable asset rather than the severe disability most people accepted it as. He had an amazing mind for turning the worst of things into gold, and he had used that to his advantage as well. He wasn't affraid of starving, of being without a home, of being without society any longer. He was at the top of his game, and he'd spent fourty goddamn years with his nose to the grindstone to get there. And now, he was affraid again, affraid that he might just have fucked up this time.
It wasn't his fault of course. He was a highly desirable person to be aquianted with in the higher social circles of the city. Women practically threw themselves at him, for goodness sakes. Was he to blame for one night where he'd indulged in some fine liquor, and had decided to take a taste of that pretty little blonde that had been sitting on his lap, just begging for his attention? He should think not. It wasn't as if he'd killed her, after all. She had asked for it, asked to be let in on the fun. It wasn't his fault she wanted to take it all back and become a human again, the stupid little bitch. It wasn't his fault the the order of the Hunters were so backwards in their beleifs that the stoneage seemed a vast improvement for their concepts of how the world worked. None of it was his fault.
If there was one thing Zach had learned early on in life, it was that it was rarely ever fair.
So he ran down the back streets of Victoria away from the Hunters and their warrant for his head. He could hear their bloodhounds baying in the distance, quickly approaching, and he would have to come up with another clever ruse to throw them off for another minute or two before he had to do it all over again. Unfortunatly, he knew he would run out of good ideas far before the dogs ran out of his scent.
Keeping to the shadows, Zach scaled the brick side of a building like some superhero who had forgotten to wash his spandex suit and was stuck with the formal evening suit of his secret identity. He reached the lip of the roof and clambered over it, gasping for breath. Carefully, he peered over the top, watching the hounds pause, look around in confusion, and then spread out in about five different direction to try to pick the scent back up again. Zach grinned wickedly, and turned around.
A crossbow was hanging not an inch infront of his face, the blessed silver bolt jabbing into his forhead a little. Connected to the crossbow was a trigger, and the red polished finger of a woman perched upon that. Zach flitted his eyes upwards to meet another wicked grin, not unlike the one he'd been wearing moments ago when he'd outsmarted the hounds.
"Hello Mister Blacke. Pleasant evening, wouldn't you say?"
"You bitch," Zach hissed at the Hunter, his Hunter actually, the one who had been assigned to him ever since this little fiasco had commenced.
"That's 'You bitch Miss Hawker,' you bastard," the woman crooned, brushing back a wind whipped tangle of raven black hair from her face. She lowered the bolt enough to prod Zach in the throat, "On your feet, now."
Zach rose slowly, mind scrambling to identify any and all escape routes, but found that they were all very much out of reach to him with that bolt at his throat.
Hawker felt a little thrill run through her at the panicky look in the Vampire's eyes. "What now, Zach? You've reached the end of your rope, just like I said you would. You Vampires, you're all the same. Arrogant, power hungry little freaks, the lot of you. It's almost pathetic how invinsible you think you are, just because of what you are." She let the bow drop a bit, so it was pressed against his heart, and she moved closer so she was right in his face. "And it's always, always so much fun to take you down."
Zach took a step back involuntarily, and his heel brushed the lip of the rooftop. The city spread out below the two, the Hunter and her prey. They stood ontop of it, and it rushed by underneath, oblivous to one more battle being waged within it's boundaries. But to the Hunter and her prey, there was nothing else in the world but the two of them on that rooftop. Zach shuddered, unsure if the chill november wind had been the culprit, or the closeness of the bolt to his chest.
"Fucking Hunters," Zach began, getting some of his old sneer back again, "Think you're the be all and end all. Think you're doing God's work, do you? By mowing down hundreds, thousands of people, just because of some damn dusty passage in a musty old book. Let me tell you something, Hawker," he snarled leaning in to cover the rest of the gap between the two of them, "You don't know shit. You or your God. You can all go straight to hell. I'll meet you there."
Quick as a flash, he'd snatched her wrist, turned it, held it down, and squeezed, forcing the muscles into spasm until they let the crossbow fall clattering to the ground. Barely a second behind him, Hawker took his knee out, so that he collapsed backwards onto the lip of the rooftop. But he hadn't let her wrist go, and they fell back together, teetering dangerously on the edge of a long drop down. They fought to gain the upper hand for a few brief seconds, until both of them were immobolized by the other's vice like grips.
"It's going to take a hell of a lot more than that to kill me, woman," Zach spat through ragged breaths and gritted teeth.
"It's a damn good thing I haven't been trying yet, then," Hawker hissed back at him, still writhing ontop of him to free her arms.
And somewhere between the grappling and the cursing the two enemies fell upon each other, the kisses just as violent and furious as the curses. They still fought for control of each other, but the battle had twisted itself into a bought of passion. And once the first kiss had been issued as challenge, the other had no choice but to strike back.
Zach slid back from the ledge, and was all but crushed into the lip of the rooftop as Hawker pressed into him. Zach reached up under her grasping arms and grabbed her by the waist and hauled her off him just long enough so that he could slam -her- back into the wall and keep her pinned there. She snarled in protest as he caught her arms and shackled them to the lip above her head with his hands. He hissed with vexation as she trapped his legs between her thighs and held him there without relent. The Hunter and the Hunted locked jaws on each other, golden eyes of a hawk and the black eyes of raven fixated, and then they forgot who was which.
"Jesus Christ," Hawker swore as they broke apart, "what in god's name was that?"
"That was a kiss you stupid woman," Zach rumbled, "and god help me, I want another."
"No! I mean, what are we, am I -?" Hawker spluttered, trying to sit up but only sinking farther down.
"Don't you ever shut the hell up?" Zach barked, and quickly deffered any other arguments by cover her mouth with his.
Hawker squawked her protests, but they were not heeded. She very quickly forgot why she was making such a fuss anyways. She wasn't one to protest, she was more used to making demands and having them met. With this in mind, she felt it was critical to do just that even in such a dangerous situation. There was no attempt at escape now as she writhed up against him and slipped her tounge across his lips. She shivered as she traced over the tips of his pointed teeth. He reacted as ordered, grinding against her in turn, releasing her hands in order to let his make their rounds. Reaching up, she grabbed Zach by his collar and shook him until he paused in his attack.
"Shh! It's the hounds! They've circled back."
There was indeed a lound keening baying in the distance that could be heard over the pounding of their hearts.
"Well, what are you going to do then, Hawker?" Zach smirked, running his hands up and down her sides. "Arrest me? A little late for that maybe?"
Hawker kneed him in the chest and scrambled out from underneath him. "We'll have to hurry if and find you a safe place before sunrise," she growled, fumbling around for her crossbow in the dark.
Zach gave a rich, booming laugh and clambered to his feet. "What's this? Not going to shoot me? What's happened to you Hawker?"
Hawker spun around, eyes flashing. "And what about you, Blacke? Not going to bite me? Affraid? Loosing your nerve?"
Zach stepped forward and scooped her up for another long kiss. "No," he whispered, eyes searching hers, "but I may be loosing my mind."
Hawker snorted, then dragged him towards the fire escape she had used to reach the top of the building.
"You're not the only one," she muttered under her breath.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Friday, October 21st, 2005
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Oh god.
It's really early in the morning. I make a fun avatar. I'm just finishing a wicked story, (one that I lost the first part of a few days ago when I was attempting to get it written down,) I'm on the last scentence. And there's an error. And I loose it all. And it was so good.
I've no more will left. I quit.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, August 17th, 2005
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So Al and I were googling character names just recently. We started Googling th MU cast. We got down to Eamon O'Reiley, and we found this:
http://www.google.ca/search?hs=bQG&hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial_s&q=Eamon+O%27Reiley&btnG=Search&meta=
Third entry down, under 'The Little Vampire Songs Resources'
There is a quote from one of MY stories under the heading, a really early one, before we'd even gotten the name Monster's University for this thing. Here it is:
"... Zach drawled and turned to leave.'Like hells yer leavin' now,' Eamon exclaimed,
and ... Whaddaya got ta say?''Let go O'Reiley,' Zach growled.'Ya know et took me ..."
If you click on the link it sends you to Amazon's Dvd section. The Littlest Vampire is a kids movie. It doesn't contain a link to my story at all, and yet the text is still there. Not only that, but this bit of a story is from a very early version of Eamon and Zach hooking up. Which is ironic, I find. I went back in the Northernlilly files to find the story, so if you want to read it and find the line, go for it. here it is: http://www.livejournal.com/users/northernlilly/3503.html?mode=reply
Now, it's potentialy harmless, although I am curious as to how it happened. I may send Amazon an email, as I'd hate to think what would happen if some curious kid tracked down the quote to it's original source...but it is kind of fun at the same time.
Hehehe.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Monday, August 15th, 2005
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Sorry guys, too much Sherlock Holmes...
One of the most curious thing about Eamon is his ability to attract people to him unknowingly, second only to his ability to hide in plain sight. That's why I've learned never to go looking for him. What I go looking for, instead, is what I've come to call his flock. Today, his flock mulled about in the cafeteria of the univeristy. Now normally, I don't go looking for Eamon, he finds me. But after coffee this afternoon with Professor Everard, I found myself almost as catty, (and I use the term loosely,) as she about the state that Professor O'Reiley had arrived in this morning at the teacher's lounge. I was not there myself this morning; I'd had breakfast with my wife and driven her and my daughter to Doctor Jackie Grubb's lab to run some further tests after Olivia's initial bloodwork. I needed something to distract me from my worring about my daughter, and marking papers did not so much distract me these days as drive me to distraction. I'd originally planned to have coffee with Eamon that afternoon, but he had not been in his office were he usually took his breaks as of late. Instead, I had bumped into professor Everard in the hall.
It wasn't strange that Linda Everard, a professor of the occult history who had recently made a name for herself in the feild of daemonology, would be in the history building, and her office was on the same floor of Eamon's. It was however strange that she was, as far as I could make out, simply loitering there. Well, she had provided she had been waiting for Eamon to return to ask him a few questions regarding a certain myth from ancient celtic myth she was researching. I won't pretend to know what it was she was talking about;however, she didn't even have the customary few files in her hands as a pretence, or the haggard expression that was customary for her at this point of the day. My sense of curiosity peaked, I informed her that it was irregular for professor O'Reiley to be out at this time, and asked if her buisness was not so urgent if she would care for a drink. She let herself be led off, although it was plain she did not want to give up the wait so easily.
We chatted about a fair number of things, but I could see something was wieghing on her mind as she would constantly glance about here and there, still on the lookout. She must have sensed my relative anxiousness about my daughter too, (Perdi always says women are better at seeing things like that, even if this man has a heightened repritiore of senses to draw from,) and we began down that road of discussion for a time. Linda is a very pleasant woman to be around, if not always a little preoccupied with her work. She is however, comletely transparent. Whenever I broached the subject of Eamon, she hastily sidetracked the conversation. Finally, I asked if anything was wrong, as Eamon was a good friend, and regretfully had another ability of landing himself in copious amounts of trouble. At the time I though perhaps he and Linda had been on a research project together and perhaps they'd he'd run a bit afoul of someone. But the red wash that ran across Linda's face suggested something entirely different, which I'd never quite considered before.
Linda told me that Eamon had shown up for work in a bit of a beraggled state. Now, while this is not uncommon for a man conducting research while teaching classes, it was in Eamon's case entirely out of the normal. He'd only entered the teacher's lounge for a short time to grab a few things before going to class, but rumor had it that he'd been slightly bruised wearing yesterday's clothes. My concern for my friend was only outwieighed at the moment by the extreme curiosity of Linda's reaction moments prior. Having no classes to teach at the moment, and wanting to get to the bottom of the matter, I told Linda I would try to find out where he went and make sure he was alright, and remind him to check with her when he had a moment. She thanked me, and left, with almost a full cup of coffee now holding her vacated place.
So I'd marched down to the student cafeteria, and was rewarded by a glance of Eamon sitting in the corner, if indeed looking a bit worse for wear. It was well know to myself that Eamon would come here sometimes to think, although I can hardly imagine why, and I've never asked him. I thought, though, that it was to do with the readily availible crowd in which he was easily able to loose himself in. He looked up at me after I'd penetrated the mass of students that had unknowingly formed a barrier around him. But it was then that my footsteps faultered slightly, for he was smiling. This, in my experiance, was a bad thing indeed, and with a livid bruise rising across his cheak, a little bizzare. I approached him cautiously, and greeted him in a familiar manner.
"So, what the hell happened to you?" I asked, pulling a seat up for myself.
Eamon blinked, then grinned sheepishly, and touched his cheak lightly. 'Hah, yes...that. Now that -is- an interesting story.'
I waited, staring at him. Apparently something about the way I can stare straight at him without blinking offsets him. This being one of the only things I can use against his respectable defences, I've refined it to an art. He lasted for about five seconds before he started to squirm.
'You're no fun,' he muttered, poking at his salad.
'Yes, I've been told that,' I confirmed conversationally.
'Does it come with being a father I suppose?'
He'd unknowingly hit a nerve, and a raw one. Perdi and I had told no one about Olivia's condition, and didn't plan to unless- well, we've both been a little tense lately because of it. I gave an involuntary snarl, 'You're changing the subject.'
'And not doing a very good job of it either,' Eamon agreed. He leaned back and gave a great yawn. 'Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night.'
I quirked an eyebrow. The irish man had a certain flare for the dramatic, and I'd learned to spot foreshadowing when I saw it. Well, the great big grin that flashed across his face after the statement helped a little too. I tried not to feed the fire, and repsonded blandly. 'Well, now that I know -what- you were doing, how about telling me who?'
'Ah, but that's the interesting part! And I want you to guess!'
There was no help for it when he got like this. I might as well play along with this game of charades now, or I'd never get anything out of him. I sighed, and started with the routine questions. 'Animal or human?'
'Hey! Jackass..."
'Human,' I concluded, with only the smallest smirk. "Alright. Female or male?'
Eamon's grin could only be described as toothy. I rolled my eyes. 'Male. Anyone I know?'
A nod, and the grin remained fixed.
I started to worry, and feel a little bad for Linda, but plunged forwards, naming names. I started with the usual suspects, but I have to admit that when they ran out I began to play a game of russian roulet. Pick a name, give it a spin, and shoot. So far, they'd all been duds. Until I said Zach's name by chance more than suspicion. I was rewarded by a deep chuckle, and a slug of shock rammed into my brain.
'But he's not...'I stammered.
'That's why it's so interesting!' Eamon chirped. 'Hells, I thought I had less of a chance with him than even you! Which gives me some hope yet for ya.'
'Only if you want to deal with one short angry asian woman afterwards,' I hissed. 'Anyways, that explains the stupid grin and the ruffled clothes, but-'
'Oh, that explains just about all of it actually,' Eamon said smuggly, and leaned in closer. 'Fisher likes it rougher than I thought.'
I grimmaced, a knee jerk reaction to the information. 'Well thank you for that lovely imagry, you bastard.'
'Always a pleasure,' he replied with a tilt of the head.
'You know, I'm never going to feel inclined to ask if anything is wrong again,' I snapped at his disregard. If it was one thing that irritated me about Eamon, it was his happy go lucky attitude towards everything. 'Everard was asking after you, she needed to consult you on something for the past couple of days now. You know, she's been bogged down in work since the sacrifing incident, working for the police and the university. You might have thought of her before you went off galvanting.'
Eamon's face twisted in a genuine picture of confusion. 'No, no she hasn't. Celtic legend has nothing to do with the stuff that went on in October anyways.'
I stared at him again to see if he would give something away, but he didn't. I sat back in my chair and looked him over again. Maybe it was the thought of Linda blushing a brilliant shade of scarlet that made me ask the question, or maybe it was my thoughts of my family back at home. 'Eamon, have you ever just settled down with someone before?'
I think the question took him aback, as his chair just about tipped over on him. 'Whatdaya mean, boyo?'
'Christ, I don't know Eamon. It just seems strange that you've been able to live for so long without someone there for you. I don't think I would have made it through mine without Perdi and Olivia now...how the hell are you doing it? How can you just be so damn bouncy every damn day, acting like everything is a game all the time, and you're just a child in the middle of it all.' I probably should have just shut my mouth and appologized, but the ball was rolling now and I couldn't stop it. 'I mean lord, you could have any woman, and almost any man you want. And I can't beleive that anyone can handle even a hundred years alone, not even you. Everard likes you, you know, and probably for a better reasons than most of the kids in your little flock. And I don't think I've ever seen you take anyone seriously before...'
I just stopped. I'd lost where I was going, and what my point was. It was strange, as I've always thought of Eamon as one of the strongest people I've ever met, but at that moment as he sat there, battered, bruised and rumpled, and I felt sorry for him. Despite his years, he didn't have the answers more than anyone else did. And it occured to me that in all of his teasing about me being married now and with a child, he envied me. I can't pretend to understand what it must be like to live forever, to watch everyone you love die. But I did feel sorry for him then.
'Sometimes Rob...sometimes it just has to be a game. Because it's all so ridiculous, I can't take it seriously.'
I watched Eamon, but his face was closed to me. I nodded, although I'm not sure what I was aknowledging as his answer did not satisfy me in the sightest. I pushed my chair back and stalked away distractedly, letting the circle of humans close around him again like a babbling curtain.
Being half wolf is difficult for many reasons. Often one side of me gets upset over things, and the other half doesn't understand why. Perdi assures me this happens to he sometimes as well, which both comforts and worries me. At least I know I'm not alone, but knowing that my keener senses has a tendancy to make me think like a woman unnerves me. And right now, I was worried.
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http://faerie.monstrous.com/
Handy dandy. Oh so many ideas for Eamon now.
"The reason assigned for taking water into the house at night was that the Fairies would suck the sleeper's blood if they found no water in to quench their thirst." Um....hokay then...The more research I do, the less the boundaries are between fey and vampires and werewolves...kinda creepy really.
If you look up Elves, The Holly King, Santa Clause, there are some interesting bits of information to be pulled from each. Such as fairy raids that come on every friday. Eamon's story must happen around christmas, I think.
If Eamon is part elf, then his father would be Oberon. Oberon is one of the more infamous polyogamous fey out there, after all. Which is strange, considering thre is supposed to bea taboo surrounding that. Maybe that's just on the human end of things. Shakespeare took the name right out of history, just changed things up a bit. Also, basing Eamon's character on Puck, who's halfers himself, may be a good idea, as they share the same mischevious outlook. Elves themselves are presented like Tolkein's ideal, though I've always thought of them to be more like Shakespeare's. Tricky buggers. Just trying to touch upon the stuff Tolkein drug up about elves in next to impossible...
I'm trying to rehash Eamon's gatekeeper job. Now, he's never really met his dad, has he? I mean, he knows he's fey, maybe even been there once or twice in his career, but he tries to stay away from it. He hates his father anyways, for not coming back for his mother and he, and being the reason they had to live away from the villiage in seclusion. There is no way Eamon is going to become any semblance of royalty in the fey court either, so he's buggered on both ends of the deal. Oberon is, despite his lackluster reputation, a part of the Seelie court, so we can't pin him down for being a big bad. I don't think we should play Eamon up as the lost prince to the throne with a quest type, but more of a solitary knight of old. Once Eamon decides to start dishing out a bit of a police force on the fey in the mortal world, though, there is a lot more interest taken in him by the courts. They don't try to kill him, per say, but a challenge is a challenge. Eamon's probably got himself cursed a lot, and made his own tools, like the sword he carries. He'd deal with general things like random fey mischeif and banishing fey, all the way to child snatchings. The little stuff. He probably has gone up against the Unseelie, but only the little guys. He probably has a few fey allies from all of his dealings, but they are tricky. In no way is he powerful enough, even now, to go up against the major players in the two courts. When the ley lines burst, I don't think Eamon will be able to contain it, or be the only mortal person involved with fixing it. I'm not yet sure of how the two courts are going to react to the burst either. All I know is that it opens up a window of opportunity for Olivia to be stolen. I don't think the two relate. Perhaps Olivia can be our B plot even. I'm thinking it would be some of the Unseelie who have a grudge against Eamon to repay that takes her, as I don't think the Seelie were about baby snatching. So that's more to do with Eamon's personal history, (kind of like Julie is to Rob's story) while the breaking of the ley lines is more of the problem at hand (like the political turmoil Rob faced while dealing with the murders).
Witches -will- be involved with this later A-plotline. Witches, and wizards, are very important to this plot. Before Rob moved to the country with Perdi, he had a litte house the lived in with an elderly lady as a neighbor. We'll see her around every so often in the stories. Rob is always kind to her, mows her lawn and whatnot. Her granddaughter, introduced in the second installment of the proffesor trillogy, which we haven't gone into a lot yet, is the leader of a coven of proper witches in Victoria. The grandmother is more 'traditional' in the sense that she has two other friends she practices with; the coven of three, the maid the mother and the crone. They're really funny old biddies, kind of like pratchett's coven but of course based in this world. They all agree Rob is very 'handsome' and tend to conduct their meetings over lemonade on the front porch where they can watch him mow the lawn with his shirt off. Rob doesn't know what they are until after Olivia is stolen, and they come over to offer condolensces, cookies, and tell Rob they'll track the little bastards down. The city's witch coven is more involved with the actual ripping open of the ley lines and the problem of how to shut it.
The UVPI (paranormal investigators, everyone's favioret ghostbusters,) are also involved, and they are the front to the investigatory view point of this story. Any dealings with the police or Perdi and the scuzzies pretty much falls behind them. They aren't directly involved with the Olivia case, they're more to do with the ley line rip as well, but they do get dragged into Olivia's plot by the end. They notice the surge in paranrmal activity after the lines burst, and upon investigating it, happen across Eamon and Rob as they're out for their nightly pixie containment strolls quite a bit. Remember that no one knows Eamon is fey, and Rob is in his wolf form at that time. I'm not too sure how they're interaction with the rest of the story is going to go as of yet, though.
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You know what would be fun to do? Staged swordfights. http://www.homestead.com/2thehilt/home.html
Al and I were just having a conversation last night about taking up a secondary vigilanti persona for shits and giggles. You know, damsel by day, dread swashbuckler by night. The swauve, the costume, the performance in general. It would be much fun. And as a point of interest, Gwydion teaches stage fighting. I'll talk to him about this on Sunday. Honestly, how much fun would it be to get into a flashy fight, with truth justice freedom and a hard boiled egg on your side? Infront of everyone to cheer you on? It would add the whole performance aspect back into the SCA. Everyone who's been to a tourney knows that, while challenging, it's usually not that interesting to watch unless you know what you are looking for. And without a ship to help run, and the idea of a tavern only still in the works, it's not like I've got anything better to do.
So, some requirments of a secret persona:
-A mask
-A nice hat
-Cool boots
-A wooshy cloak (usually red?)
-A silky billowy costume (usually black?)
-A sword (and various other weaponry)
-Monologing
-A cool crest or signature mark like Zorro's 'Z'
-A snappy name
-A catch phrase 'Hallo, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!'
-A villian to fight
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Wednesday, August 3rd, 2005
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Um, hi guys! (Or Al, who would know this better)
Just curious as to what plot we're putting first. Is it Roxy's, or is it Rob's? As I've started drawing Roxy's (omg, she's drawn something!) but wouldn't min switching to Rob's if I had to now that I know most of the locations after seeing them first hand. Give me a shout.
Also, Megs and I had some discussions about the vampire boys I'd like to catch you up with.
And POST the goddamn NOTES we took while I was there, or send them to me, or something.
That is all.
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Wednesday, July 27th, 2005
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Allison needs to post the notes we came up with when I was in Victoria with her. Go go Zombie rights!
A breif explanation. Hawker, (of Zach's story Hawker's Hunt) dies at the near end of it. She's a hunter, who falls in a weird sort of love with Zach. She dies on the job. Zach goes a bit batty, more so than he has been after drinking blood illegally, and takes his revenge on her killer. Now, even after he's cleared by Greg on the first count, the Hunters will have to kill him, or Greg will, being his master. So Greg does. Oh the angst...and as a note, Eamon and Greg refer to Zachary as 'the boy' because he's a young immortal and becauses it pisses him off.
It was a dark and stormy night on the mountain side. The air hung heavy, pressing down on until it's cloudy flesh was peirced by the the ragged stone pinnacles. It's cold clear blood had begun to flow, but it had not yet met with the two men trudging up the mountain's wooded sides. Between the two darkly clad figures, they carried but two object. One, a small vase with a clasped lid, the other a dagger so small it could have been a pocket knife. It seemed that they had finally gone far enough, for they stopped in a clearing, glancing behind to see if the night held any spies in it's mirk.
'Right then,' said the first and fairest, 'This seems like far enough, and I don't see anyone Gregory.' He pointed to the ground witht the tip of the blade. 'Do you want to do the honors?'
His dark companion gave him a darker look. It just as quickly broke into a laugh that silenced the night noises all around and left them in stillness. He gave a short, sharp reply - 'Aye,' - in much the same rich lilt of tounge as his fair companion. With deft hands he flipped the latch that held the lid closed, and tipped the soft grey contents onto the forest floor in a meagre pile at his feet. Gregory cocked an eyebrow and stepped back, giving a mock bow as he did so. 'And now your turn, O'Reiley.'
Eamon stepped forward until his toes almost touched the pile of damp ashes at his feet. He knelt, holding the dagger between thumb and forefinger, toying with it for a moment. 'You poor bastard,' he said suddenly as his face broke out into a smile that echoed Gregory's own. He gripped the hilt, sheathed the blade with a firm fist, and drew it out sharply. A little blood seeped out of his clenched hand, so before it fell to the ground Eamon dropped the blade and cupped his hands together, letting the blood well up from the long gash in his hand.
Gregory stepped forward, bent down and took up the dagger while Eamon waited for a bit more blood to seep out. Gregory chuckled at some joke in his head, and licked the blade clean unconciously. A flash of fang and a crooked grin was all Eamon could discern in the night. Gregory saw the quirk of his brow. 'Waste not...'he murmured almost to himself and then, 'That's enough for him.'
The blood had welled almost filling the shallow cup of his hands. He let it drip out carefully, making sure all of it landed atop the mound of ash. As the liquid touched it, smoke began to rise, and the ash began to broil. Gregory pulled Eamon back by his shoulder and held him there. They looked on as it sucked essences from the loam and the air, causing a layer of fog to crawl across the clearing and obscured the black writhing mass as it swelled and solidified. The only sound now was the growling of the storm as it edged it's way towards them.
For a moment, Eamon was worried it had not worked, but then a sharp gasp broke the stillness. Still, he waited until Gregory nodded before he stepped forward, shrugging off his long jackect to cover the boy with. Zachary looked up at him with wild uncomprehending eyes. 'What is this?' he muttered in his familiar southern drawl, 'What the hell is this? I'm dead! Get away from me, I'm dead!'
'Last time I checked boy-o, you were one of the undead,' Eamon intoned. He gave him a solid thump on the back and pulled him up into a sitting position.
Zach's eyes flashed, but caught a hold of Gregory standing behind Eamon and changed his path of attack. 'What the hell do you think you're doing? They'll only kill me again! And I don't want to do this anymore! I've done this long enough, just, just leave!'
Greg's mirth had melted and froze into a cold calculating look. He tilted his head, regarding Zachary carefully, then snapped his fingers. Zach fell back as if a blow had been landed on his jaw.
'Gregory! Christ, leave him be, he doesn't know what he's talking about,' Eamon growled, edging between the Master and his charge.
'I fully realize that, and I plan to edjucate him accordingly,' Gregory said flatly. 'So if you would please -step aside- my friend, and place your nose firmly in your own business, I would get on with the task of teaching -my- pupil.'
Gregory's dark eyes watched Eamon tense at the rebuke, then look down at Zach. 'I wish I could do something more for you, kid, but this is your deal now,' he reached down and steadied Zach again before standing up himself, 'I can't interfere.' Eamon stepped aside, and let Gregory step forward.
Zachary gazed up as his Master and touched the broken lip he'd been given, and by the smouldering light in Gregory's eyes he knew this would be the least of his troubles tonight. 'You're a crazy son of a bitch, Gregory,' he hissed up at the man looming overhead, earning himself another invisible blow to his face that left him reeling.
Gregory knelt down so he was level with his charge's eyes, and gripped him firmly by his neck. 'Yes, yes I am. But I'm also alive, and that is something you seem to not grasp the importance of. For me, for us, for vampires, Zachary,' He let his fingers tighten around the boy's neck for empahsis, 'life is all we have. Whatever it is you beleive in after you die, if anything like that exists, we will not have. We've traded our souls for life everlasting, a bid for immortality, that is our grace. And you would treat that exchange so lightly so as to throw it away for something as fading as love.'
'You bastard,' Zachary choked, wriggling under his Master's unshakable clutches. 'You cold hearted bastard! You're the reason we're called monsters!'
'We -are- monsters,' Gregory bellowed, shaking Zach into silence. 'If you lived but half as long as I, you would see that. If you still wish for your humanity, it is too late Zachary. You know it has been fading since the day you were taken, to the point now where you are barely recognizable from the human child you once were. And yet you cling to some romanticised hope that love can yet save you somehow. It will only kill you, as you have demonstraighted to yourself just now.'
'I'd rather die then,' Zachary spat, 'I'd rather stay ashes and be blown across the earth and become nothing than live forever.'
An outburst of laughter from the peanut gallery broke the mounting tension. 'Sorry,' Eamon muttered as he tried to stiffle another bout of giggles. 'It's just funny, you know. I'm affraid I don't react well to drama,' he snorted again. Under Gregory's scornful look, Eamon made an attempt to straighten his face. 'But, ah, seriously. The kid isn't that old Greg, you can blame him for being a bit wistful.' At the dire look he was given, Eamon felt it prudent to add something. 'And kid? Stop your wimpering, huh? It's a real pain in the ass collecting all your dust every time you feel the need to be noble.'
finish the rest later...
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Started reading 'The Historian' by Elizabeth Kostova. It's a great thick book all about a girl who's father goes missing (along with others) in the search for Dracula himself, who apparently is alive and well. It takes you through a great deal of history involving myths, legends, and actualy history behind Vampires. Right now It's focusing on Vlad the Impaler, who is suspected to be the actual Dracula. So I started doing some hunting of my own.
http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1511/is_3_20/ai_54359895
http://www.mse.berkeley.edu/faculty/defontaine/DevoutAth.html
http://www.ffbooks.co.uk/x0/x4917.htm
http://www.crimelibrary.com/serial_killers/weird/vampires/1.html
http://web.uvic.ca/geru/487/folklore.html
Anyhow, I know Zach and Gregory are more of the practicle type about this sort of thing, and would stand by historical fact. That is, they detest the kindergoth kind of stuff that can be found here: http://www.vampires.nu/pages/Black_Veil.cfm/PageID/20. Obviously though, there will be groups of kiddies running around beleiving in this stuff, so it is something that we need to look up. Also, I find it interesting that in every single book I've been reading lately that monsters, be they werewolf, vampire, whatever, all tend to stick together as a family, or a court, or some sort of self governed organization in modern times. With everything going public in our story now, they would start to break down. The more radical vampirer courts would probably not take kindly to this. They would not look fondly on people like Zach at all.
Most people who do involve themselves with the radical vampire courts (who probably aren't try vampires) are considered off their rockers even by a fellow vampire like Zach. And for a good reason. Just due to the nature of a vampire's temperment and special abilities, it is very easy for them to loose their reason. Even normal humans have this tendancy, and because of this have gone down in our history books as some of the most notorious murderers. In many books written today it is also interesting that when the author tries to get into the head of a vampire, more often than not they will look upon humans as a source of food, like cattle. Most of this is driven by the urge for power and sexual drive. Which could well explain the whole sexed up bad ass aura that surrounds Vampire myth even today. Even as I read 'The Historian' the only vampires they mention are the extremely violent ones, such as good old Vlad. Gotta love the criminal mind.
"What seems to inspire the psychopathic or psychotic mind is the aspect of dominance mixed with blood. Many sexually compulsive murderers have described their excitement over seeing a victim's blood."
At least the Kindergoth gatherings are generally harmless, and have come up with things like being a psycic Vampire ('vampires' that feed of emotions) to avoid the whole blood letting thing. The thing is that you can be a fairly stable person while being a vampire, as in Zach's case. You don't have to go out killing people for blood, or have someone commit themselves body and soul to you to be your donor. Things can be explained in a scientific manner for the most part. But for all the explaining, it always should be remembered that Vampires are not human anymore, that they are different. Which is why humans have such a difficult time understanding the way they think and act. Which is why everyone thinks Zach is a complete rat bastard. It's no one's fault really, it's just the way it is. But if things get out of hand, and a vampire starts going around and killing people, then something has got to be done about it obviously.
(Note: Vampires are in many ways like werewolves, and many myths have a blurry line between the two. It's strange that we still think Rob as a human, but consider Zach to be a Vampire, despite the fact that both of them were human to begin with. The only real difference is that Zach was a willing. Also, as a note concerning Eamon if we ever decide to follow this route, a Vampire must feed from a person thrice in order for them to become a proper vampire. Remember in Stoker's book, that the girl was visited constantly by Dracula and yet did not turn vampire? They are however under a certain degree of control by the vampire that bites them once or twice. A werewolf's bite, however, is good on the first go. I'll see if I can't get that discussion Jacqueline and I had about vampire bites typed up.)
This is where our special task force comes in to handle monsters. Now, a lot of people are leery about letting religious organizations be the ones to handle criminal searches, but the fact remains that they have had a great deal more time dealing with monsters that the RCMP has. It's kind of like when a police investigation gets so bogged down that they end up talking to psychics in hopes for some sort of a lead. The church is very good at dealing with monsters who have lost their reason. The only problem is that they beleive that no monster has any reason to begin with. Still, the church doesn't go around killing monsters who have come out in the open for the same reason that monsters don't go around killing people for the hell of things. You get into deep shit with the police and the government. It was alright for the church before, because they were closely tied in with whatever King or emporerer was ruling at the time. Now, not so much.
But how does something like Faith effect a vampire like Zach, who's pretty much as atheist as it gets? What about sunlight? Garlic, crosses, silver, mirrors, etc? Can Zach turn himself into mist, a bat, a wolf? This leans more towards sorcery, so I would say no. A lot of Vampires might have practiced some sort of magical art, and then would have become susceptable to these attacks, or have added abilities. Most of this magic does have to do with illusions, so something of faith, or sunlight would most likely break the charms. And it's not so much about whether the Vampire beleives in god after all, it's the person who's holding up the cross to keep the vampire back who's calling on his own faith to protect him. Zach doesn't practice sorcery though, so that point is mute to him. A stake in the heart, or his decapitation, though, is a pretty safe bet. That tends to make most people stay dead. Vampires that practiced more advanced sorcery might be able to make their bodies come back even from ashes, though, so those extra religious rituals are added in just to make sure they're damn well going to stay dead. As for being eternally damned...well, if you go around killing people, drinking their blood, practicing dark magic...then yes, you probably will be damned if you beleive in that kind of thing. I would think that applies to everyone, kind of like being staked through the heart. Otherwise, you're probably doing just as good of a job getting to heaven as the rest of us.
That's it, my brain's had enough. I've a feeling I should bring my notebook on the bus with me, incase I start getting more ideas from that book. Heck, I might have Zach's story roughly outlined if I'm lucky.
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Excerpted from Jim Butcher's website:
Here's the secret of how to get published: keep going.
There is an enormous weedout factor for wannabe writers. The good news is that you aren't competing with every published schmoe out there. You're only up against the rest of the wannabes, and it's like the old axiom about being chased by a grizzly bear. You don't have to run faster than the bear to get away. You just have to run faster than the guy next to you.
Keep trying when the guy next to you quits in disgust. Keep writing when the girl next to you sobs and throws her manuscripts into the fire. Keep conducting yourself like a professional, and you'll get someone to believe that you are one.
If you're lucky, maybe even yourself.
...
He put out a hardcover. I'm so excited!
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All the ways I can gather that one becomes a werewolf:
-Bitten
-Cursed
-Transfiguration (sorcery)
-Transfiguration (shamanistic, rituals, potions)
-Born from a parent that shares being a werewolf
-Born on a certain date, or time of the month, and therefore cursed, depending on certain traditions
-Emotionaly triggered (like someone that goes berserkers, and turn into a wolf)
-Lycanthropic
-In some cases, historical figures have been transfigured into werewolves for punishment, like the king of Wales by St. Patrick.
There are a few infamous names in werewolf legendry. A lot of it comes from france. The french really hated wolves. I need to dig the names out of all those webpages. What a lot of muck to go through for a few really good peices of information.
http://www.playspoon.com/twi/history.html
http://www.vampyra.com/children/wwolf/werehis.htm#HowB5
http://www.allenvarney.com/av_were.html
http://www.angelfire.com/realm/shades/demons/werewolves/mythandtrutheuroplit.htm
http://www.angelfire.com/realm/shades/demons/werewolves/werewolfsightings.htm
http://www.cyberwolfman.com/howl.htm
http://members.tripod.com/alam25/cases.htm
http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/werewolf.html
Some names: Werwolf, Garou, Veerwolf, Oberoten, Shifters, Lobizón, Loup-garou, Mactire, Bisclaveret, Varulv, Shape-shifters, Wendigo
And keep in mind, that's only the werewolf part. There are lots of legends about other were creatures, some of them are really cooky.
http://freespace.virgin.net/diri.gini/werewolv.htm
And this looks like an interesting read.
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Was reading through some of Kelly Armstrong's stuff jacqueline mentioned a while back. It's good. Gave me an idea. There are a lot of ways you can become a werewolf. Being bit (termed a mutt in her books). Using some kind of magical transfiguration (usually the result of the half human half wolf looking werewolves I'd think). And you can be born. Now, once the werewolf gene is in your blood, it's there to stay. So if Perdi and Rob did have a child, it would be a werewolf. Obviously it wouldn't change right away (refering back to Ms. Armstrong, young werewolves first begin to change around 13 years old). But little Olivia would be one. I don't know if Rob or Perdi would realize this or not before it happened. At first I wasn't fond of the idea. But why not? Are we going to treat this like it's some sort of special condition like autism here? I mean, Rob might not be thrilled at first, but the only thing he ever really objected to was not being given a choice, and the murder of all of his friends. He's happy enough when he is a wolf, politics aside. Perdi too might be nervous, but more out of concern for how Olivia would be treated. Still, I doubt Rob would let his fear of monster politics dictate whether or not he was going to have a family and raise his baby girl.
It would be rather interesting for Olivia as well. First off, she's a Hapa (a not so polite way of refering to someone as half Japanese half something else. Our Teacher Jeff Stearns made a film about growing up Hapa called 'What are you anyways?'. This made me think of him, and of Olivia.) And on top of that, she's a werewolf. And a female werewolf at that. I haven't read Armstrong's Bitten series yet, but she mentions something about that being rare. I don't want to make Olivia into a version of her main character however. Just pilfer a few ideas and make them fit into MU. I'd like to continue on with a strip about her and a few other kids like her growing up, really exeriancing thing in a way thier parents never got to. There would be danger yes, but you know what I mean.
Olivia kind of acts as Rob's hope for the future. If he takes this chance and has a kid, he wants to be damn sure that the world he brings her into is going to be safe for her, not like it was for him. I think that ending the stories of our lovely boy trio by having her stolen by the fey in Eamon's part is kind of like putting that future in jepordy for him, and I'm sure now that I'm thinking of it in this way, to all three of them somehow. I keep getting this horrible sinking feeling that Eamon's going to die though... ack. Anyways, with her being snitched, it makes everyone re-asses thier reasonings and then are rewarded by getting Olivia back again. Kind of a nice way to send them off.
...
Oh god. Perdi is going to have a puppy. Eamon is going to tease her mercilessly. Actually, that's a cute nickname for Olivia - Puppy.
...
I'm finding it odd that even though Perdi's full name is what I chose for her character first (Perdita), we've shortened it to this. Because it's exactly the same name as mother dalmation in disney's '101 dalmations'. I dunno. The dog thing...just seems really weird.
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Okay, I've tried working out the opening as is, but I don't think it has enough punch to it. I think maybe what we need is a few frames of Rob sitting down giving his statement in the police headquarters, then going back to the scene where he's walking with his dog and discovers the murder, while he's running a dialog. Whatcha think?
Um, the rest of the first arch has pretty much been written out by Al already. That's nice.
And a bit for fun:
Eamon grumbled a bit at the radio report, pulled a U-turn on the deserted streets of suburbia, and sped towards Rob's house. He cranked the radio so he could hear the report clearly over the growl of the engine.
*...body found inside the university itself, discovered on the first floor of the English department early this morning by janitorial staff. While the police will not confirm the body's identity at this time, Lt. Patterson of Special Ops. has said it is realted to thier ongoing investigation. When asked what involvement Professor Cyrus now played, he declined further comment. A meeting between the RCMP and the City council has been called and will ajourn shortly; the Mayor will give his thoughts on this and the Monster problem -*
He killed the radio and muttered a silent curse. Monster problem indeed. The Mayor could shove that. He hoped the press hadn't gotten to Rob's first, or the police. The cheery victorian house had a light on within and a car in it's drive. Eamon drove around the block a couple of times, jut to be sure no reporters were going to jump out of the bushes and surprise him before he decided to park infront of the house. Shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie, he crept out of his baby and gently made his way up the stairs and across the creaking wooden sundeck.
Rob's kitchen window had been left open, and he could hear the garbled radio report blaring away inside the house. And there was something else. Eamon paused until he made out Chester's throaty growl. A sudden ill feeling crept over Eamon, and he drew his hand away from the door.
'Rob? Hallo! It's me, lad.' Nothing, but he did hear chester begin to flicker back and forth between his growl and whimpers of concern. "Rob, lad, I'm coming in.'
Eamon touched his hands to the door, and it swung open. It hadn't been locked, or even shut properly. He stepped carefully into the kitchen, saw the radio on the counter and turned it down. 'Rob? Where are ya?'
Another whimper escaped from the living room, this time followed by a human sound. Eamon wasn't close enough to make out words. He began walking slowly towards the living room, his shoes clicking on the linoleum floor, listening for all he was worth. As he passed the divide between hard floor and carpet, he was haulted in his progression by Chester.
Chester snarled, but did not come any closer. Eamon crouched down low, and offered a hand out to the tense dog. 'Hey there me boy, you remember me. Now what's all this about? Where's Rob?' A look of recognition washed over the dog's face and he whimpered at Eamon, his tail pinned down but wagging franticly at it's tip. Chester drew closer, then circled around, as if he had been told to stay and didn't dare disobey. He yipped, coming forward just far enough so that Eamon reached to pat him before drawing away.
'Rob?' Eamon tried again, growing more desperate. He stood up and followed Chester as he retreated again into the living room. A few books lay scattered on the floor, and a flower pot from the mantle lay in peices around it. He heard a harsh cough arise from behind the other end of the couch. Chester scrambled towards the sound, and Eamon followed his lead.
'Oh Jesus Christ...'
Rob lay twisted up in pain on the floor, his limbs rigid, hands and feet clenching in muscle spasm, gasping for breath. His skin seemed to be writhing across his body on it's own accord. His expression was pinched, his teeth were bared, and his eyes had become the haunting yellow of a wolf's. He regarded Eamon coldly for a moment, the shivered as another wave of pain hit him and tried to mummble something.
Eamon dropped to his knees, despite Chester's insistant attempts to drag him away by the cuff of his sleeve to a safer place. He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and bowed his head closer, 'What is it Rob? What do you want me to do?'
Rob threw all of his effort into forming words in his changing vocal chords, passing them over his swollen lolling tounge and across his sharpened clenched teeth. 'Get...out...'f here...'
'Like hell I am,' Eamon muttered. 'Stay with me here, Rob. Haven't you taken your medicine?'
Rob choked, shook his head, looked down the hall to where the bathroom door stood ajar.
'Right,' Eamon said, 'Hold on a minute, alright?'
He was down the hall in a few strides and in the bathroom. The bathroom cabinett had been flung wide open, a needle lay askew on the counter and a bottle of shattered syrum on the floor. A second glance told him the needle was full, as if Rob had tried to inject himself but had failed when the effects of the transformation took hold. Eamon took up the needle, and figured Rob must have tried to reach the phone in the kitchen but had collapsed before he had gone half that far. A renewed dangerous growl from Chester made Eamon stumble back at double time.
Rob was on his knees, trying to draw himself up, supporting himself on the arm of the couch. Chester darted in and pulled on his pant leg until he collapsed. Rob snarled furiously and aimed a solid kick at his dogs chest. Chester yelped, but came back twice as fast and latched onto Rob's ankle with his jaw this time.
'Rob! Stop it!'
Rob's attention snapped towards the person who called him like a dog being scolded. A dim flicker of recognition passed across his face, enough to buy Eamon a precious few seconds. He jumped forward, grabbed Rob by his other ankle and jerked him forward so he lay flat on his back. Rob wrihed furiously, but Chester hauled on his leg repeatedly effectively keeping him off his feet. Eamon darted around Rob's grasping hands and closed his own free hand over his friend's throat, keeping well away from his knashing teeth. Rob tried to pull him off, But Eamon quickly elbowed him had in the stomach, and deftly inserted the needle into his neck and injected it's contents. He whipped it out and across the room, then concentrated on keeping Rob 's hands pinned down while he writhed away under the effects of his medication. Rob's attempts to throw Eamon off and take a bite out of him grew more feeble, until he was nothing more than a shaking mass beneath him.
Chester withdrew his grip on Rob's leg, and Eamon took this as a cue for him to do likewise. The dog pushed Eamon aside and began licking and nuzzling Rob's face like he might a pup's, both trying to reasure Rob and get him up and alert. He whimpered and whined and continued his ministering until Rob showed signs of waking.
Rob quickly responded to Chester's tounge in his ear after that. 'Chester, bugger off, you slobbering idiot,' Rob muttered. He made a half hearted attempt at holding back Chester's delighted reaction to his words. 'You great stupid dog,' laughed with strained relief.
Eamon reached past the enthusiastic malimute and pulled rob away, then lifted him up and helped him onto the couch. 'That's a damn good dog they gave you,' he remarked,'would you like a small cup of tea? Or a large glass of rum?'
That earned a small smile from Rob. 'Coffee would be just fine, thank you.' He watched Eamon disapear into the kitchen and tried to compose himself as he listened to the sounds of the birds calling outside. Chester placed his large head in Rob's lap, knowing he wasn't allowed up on the furniture, and watched his master carefully. Rob scratch the dog's head thoughtfully, until the coffee pot clicked off and Chester padded off to investigate the sound. Eamon waltzed into the room, dog in tow, with two large mugs of black coffe in his hands. He offered one to Rob before planting himself firmly down in a nearby chair.
'Well this has been a very interesting day so far,' Eamon commented dryly. He took a large swig of the strong coffee and waited for Rob to fill in the blanks.
Rob finished off the mug in two large pulls. He placed the cup down on the table, his hands still shaking slightly and took a big breath. 'I forgot to take my shot yesterday. I had to go to that interview instead. And I didn't even think that it's going to be the full moon in a couple days time. I was worried before, and then I heard that on the news this morning, and I just...I lost it. I tried to give myself the shot, but I couldn't even think straight. I couldn't even get to the phone. Shit. If Chester hadn't have stopped me I would have made it out the door and into the streets. And if you hadn't come along...' He looked at Chester, who had curled himself up on Rob's feet. 'They're trained to protect us, but when that fails, they will try to stop us. At any cost. Even the strongest dog though, well, it couldn't stop me for long.'
'Good dog,' Eamon reinterated, taking another careful sip. It was best just to let Rob talk, he'd found, if something was bothering him.
'God damn it Eamon, what's wrong with me? I've never let this happen before! Never! I swore when they first came out with the meds for us that I'd never turn back again. I think I'm loosing it...'
'Yeah, ya are,' Eamon spoke bluntly. 'You're up to your neck in a murder investigation, with politician and the administration breathing down your neck. Anyone would loose it facing that, Rob.'
***finish this later, have to go now.
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Thursday, June 30th, 2005
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Various stuff happens in between the two stories. Al and I figured we'd have a bit of funny stories, interesting ideas, and just stuff to toy around with. Stuff to build up the characters, and bring us to February, when HH begins. Rob's story takes place over a matter of four days, so there really is no room for such development.
Hawker's Hunt
(working title)
Plot Version 1.0
Arch 1
-Zach's spending his night in one of his nightclubs, watching over things from his special table (the one he and Eamon sat at in BB.) It's a saturday night, so it's very full, the music is up loud, everyone's having a good time. He's invited a reporter who wants to interview him about the vampire courts and thier current disagreements who live withing the city. Zach as we know is just as against the old fashioned courts as gregory is, but for different reasons. (Greg thinks they're idiotic, Zach thinks they're innefective.) Zach is something of a solitary operator.
-And suddenly Zach's being shot at. The reporter gets an arrow through his shoulder, but Zach's already on the move. A few of the guards see it, and start pushing through the crowd to find the shooter. The club slowly crumbles into chaos as more and more people catch on.
-Zach spots them up in the beams in the light rigs. He yells at Warrick (the bartender) to take care of things and look after the girls (Roxy and the others.) He then highttails it to the backdoor, and boots it down the back alley, attackers in tow.
- He hops onto his motorbike at the end of the alley, and jets down the street. A great big chase scene ensues. Zach still has no idea why these people are after him, but he does catch a glimpse of them, and recognizes them as members of a league of Hunters under the Catholic church. But he's done nothing to merrit being hunted. Ms. Hawker and Mr. Fish, the two ringleaders, are introduced here.
*note: I'm seeing the pari of them a bit like Mr.Tulip and Mr. Pin from Nightwatch. Except Hawker has more of the attitude of Susan Bones, and is the Mr.Pin. Fish is the brawn, but a bit like Fezzic fromt he princess bride.
Yay for highspeed chases! Anyways, Zach manages to get away, leaving them in his dust.
Intermission:
A bit about Roxy as she cleans up and goes home maybe...I dunno. Maybe the reporter?
Arch 2
-It's the next morning, Warrick is sorting through the mess in the nightclub, trying to clean up the bar. Eamon saunters on in, picking his way through the mess, towards Warrick who stops and blinks. Eamon says Zach gave hima call last night, said he was calling in a favor Eamon owed him (for getting Rob out of jail) and Eamon needed to know where he went. Warrick points to the door, leaving Eamon to track him down.
-Finally Eamon pins down where Zach's booted it to: his family crypt. Oho, spooky. But as safe as it gets for a vampire. So he saunters down into the crypt, knocks on the door, and Zach lets him in. He needs Eamon to find out what's going on, before someone stakes him one. He thinks it has something to do with the current political situation (bugger if I know what that is yet.)
-Eamon's on his way out, back to his place. He doesn't realize it but he's being followed. Hawker and Fish are waiting for him in his living room, having made thier way past all of his charms. Hawker and Fish can't do anything to Eamon, technically. But they inform him of the situation. They say Zach has been feeding off of unregistered donors...in other words, it's suspected that he killed a few girls found a couple of days ago. Eamon think's they're full of shit, just trying to get Zach into trouble, but something about the way Zach was acting in the crypt makes him doubt himself a bit. Hawker informs him that if he tries to protect Zach, they will kill him if he gets in the way. Eamon tells them to shove off.
Sorry, that's all I've got so far...
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I started on a timeline. Then I got stuck halfway through Burried Bones, and decided to revamp some ideas, and then decided just to make it a slick as possible like Al suggested I do. The old ideas I'm short with, the newer ones I go into a bit. As you can see I took it down from six archs to just four, (my hands are crying with joy,) cut and pasted a lot, put events in a more logical order (atleast I think so, take a look at V 1.0 a bit back), and completely blotted out any foreshadowing to later plots. Al's right, it gets way too sticky if you try to fit it in. Comic media isn't like film, it's very hard to drop a hint when it's basically just one great big story board. Now it focus strictly on Rob. Perdi's probably just as important if not more so that Eamon, Zach's only got one scene he's mentioned in. This is workable now I think. I'll start the character sketches tonight, and figure out a better way to make up story boards too.
Thus far:
Arch 1
-Rob is out for a walk, finds the first body
-Interviewed by the cops the next day, meets Perdi in the interview process. Perdi wouldn't be interviewing him right away, she's a scuzzie, not a cop.
-Rob goes to work that afternoon, has the meeting with the Dean that goes sour, and is saved by his friend and colleague Eamon.
-Eamon takes him out drinking that afternoon, and the second murder on campus occurs.
Intermission
-Campus is on lockdown. This could be a few episodes that
gravitate around Roxy Shipper the zombie girl.
Arch 2
-Rob is told to 'take some time off' immediatly by the Dean the next morning after word gets out.
-Rob blows up on his last class that day, (the 'freak' speech) packs up and leaves for home.
-He's called in for more questioning that evening. The special ops unit in the police force lead by Lt. Patterson has taken over the investigation. It's not clear what is doing the killings yet, but they now now that the killer has some relation to Rob.
-Perdi questions him after. Rob's so twitchy by that point that she takes pitty on him, and invites him out on an unofficial date. They talk mostly about his past, as perdi tries to understand who is the murderer and why they are killing.
Intermission:
-Flashbacks of Rob's past ensue
Arch 3
-The next morning Perdi is paged. Another murder, and a meeting between different departments to solve this case has been called. Rob goes home, we follow Perdi and Lt. Patterson as they reveal the fact that it can't be a werewolf doing the killings, and deal with a very angry city mayor, who is something of a fundy.
-Rob has a bad breakdown at home during the evening due to a combination of stress, a waxing moon, and forgotten medication. Luckily Eamon was on his way over after he heard about the murder on the news, and is able to keep Rob from going off the handle. The neighbors here a comotion and call the cops. Two rookies come out to investigate a domestic disturbance, and don't understand why Eamon is telling them to shove off. They get rough with Eamon, and Rob, still shaky, snaps and attacks them. He gets the shit kicked out of him and taken into custody, as does Eamon.
-Late at night Lt. Patterson hears about it, and calls eamon in, because Rob's in no condition to talk to anyone. Eamon explains, and tells Patterson to get Rob out of there before he goes nuts. Patterson explains that Perdi now beleives beleives the killer is actually trying to get to send a message to Rob, maybe even going to try and kill him next, and he doesn't want to risk letting him out of his sight in this condition.
Intermission
-Eamon is let go, and he speeds towards Zach's club, where he calls in a favour to get Rob out of jail before he goes apeshit, and has a little chat about lycanthropy with Zach over some fancy smancy drinks.
Arch 4
(the plot is fairyly simplistic here, but full of action, so it should balance out nicely)
-The killer is stalking Perdi. We understand why from Zach's explination about lycanthropy, but we know Perdi doesn't have knowledge of this yet. Nor do she or we know who the killer is just yet, although we can guess. If Rob hadn't been in jail, she would have been after him. Instead, she attacks Perdi.
-Perdi wounds her, Julie gets away, and she calls for backup. Then she calls Rob and asks him if he remembers anyone like her. He explains about Julie quickly, then comes down to Perdi's place.
-Rob insists he track Julie down. Lt. Patterson is leery, but it may be their only chance to catch her now, so he lets Rob. The chase is on. Rob manages to catch up to her, but he's lost the rest of the cops behind. Rob transforms for the first time willingly to stop Julie, backup arrives, Julie is captured.
Epilogue
-Rob and Perdi out on a date, walking down the street together, talking about things, wraping up the story with a few morals, he walks her up to her appartment, they kiss, fluffy bunny yay.
The End
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Hey everyone out there, thought I'd plunk down a note.
The progress with the layouts of the first entries have haulted. I'm just stuck with how to present it. I've tried sitting down the past few nights and drawing up some character designs for everyone again, that don't look like crap, and have found my art skills are already atrophing after a month. Not good. Sketchbook page a day from now on. In other news, I feel I should appologize to Al for constantly harping on her each night about the plots. I mean, there's only so much of it you can take, I'm sure. Besides, that's what this thing is for, and our random Msn plottng nights. Thanks for putting up with me.
Seems the word of the month is insentive. A word I've said so much that's it's almost lost i's meaning it seems. I've got to get off my ass and start doing something about this comic. Talking is all fine and good, but it's getting me nowhere. I should be the one pushing this thing forward, not dithering about it and annoying my partners with silly details. I think that's the most frustrating thing about projects like this, and why I've never got any farther with previous ones.
Al told me last night she's having a lot of trouble with this non-linear plot line we're coming up with. It is a bitch. We've got Rob's story down, and then we dove into Eamon's, the last story we wanted to present, leaving Zach still a shadowy character at best with no story of his own right in the middle. Nevermind that this isn't coming out in a certain order like we'd planned when we wanted to just publish the darn thing. Now parts of Zach's story are bleeding into Rob's, and Eamon's into Zach's, and Rob's into Eamon's. In part this has to do with foreshadowing, but it shouldn't disrupt the plot so much. There's concern that certain characters will take over the plot. What a mess.
I'll plonk out some kind of timeline tonight. I'll try to fill up Zach's gaping story a bit, and seperate the stories where they're bleeding together badly. Thanks for being patient with me guys. I know I haven't pumped out a lot of results, but I promise that's going to change. Talk to you soon.
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