Veilreach (previously untitled): Chapter Fourteen

[Finally continuing on with the story… Prime Dean Marthis sits in his study and ponders the crew he will take with him…]

Jeramiah had written the five names and key information about each student rather elegantly on the thick rolled parchment. The reason it was so stiff and heavy was due to it being expertly culled from the skin of a large oxen, and it still smelled slightly of dank old leather and ink. Considering the teachers heritage, he had a surprisingly fine script that was almost better then the Dean’s own writing. However he was able to write so finely with his beastly claws was none of his concern.

Five names. And with the cryptic prophecy it seemed the Dean was only supposed to pick two of them to go with him… or was it three? He was rather certain the dragon said only three of them should leave, but did that mean three of the students, or three in total?

His head was already throbbing. He drank back another long glass of Nebula wine and pondered the details closer.

Tanis Hawthen. Age 17. The youngest on the list that was certain, but excelling in physical magicks. He would probably be pretty useful if things were to get messy. He apparently showed little success in theory work, and had been written up twice for not submitting thesis work and refusal to attend the quarterly health assessment.

Roden Draper. Age 26. This was apparently his first year. He seemed to be an interesting one who came through the school on a special sponsor by the Crestfall Guard. Apparently they thought him special enough to pay for a years scholarship rather then have him continue with his military work. This must mean that he showed some sort of talent, right? Unfortunately there wasn’t much in the way of notes on what skills he showed yet.. but he would have some basic combat experience as well so that definitely helped his chances.. the Dean’s chances that was. After all the mission was simply to find and subdue a thief – how much skills did they really need? And he was certain that the Crestfall Guards at least had -some- knowledge on how to track a felon on the run.

Ghav Tarr’en. Age 20. Marthis snorted simply reading the name and looked no further down the notes. This would be an automatic no. The Tarr’en name was one that he knew well and he was already in deep enough troubles for that nonsense. That was an Elven bloodline from somewhere near Kingswood, and if Marthis had dared to get one of them killed his reputation would suffer immeasurable damage. Sure, they weren’t Highborn – but any Elvish blood was far too political. Let alone the mess it would make with nasty politics and a lot of paperwork from the Elven courts. He didn’t care how bright and shining their nomination might be – there was absolutely no chance he was getting them involved especially when he needed this matter to be kept close to his chest.

Maude Lucane. Age 19. Although there was little in the way of background information, her skills in Resonance Magick made him pause. It was even underlined. He vaguely remembered hearing about a rather excellent student who the late, now non-deceased Jen’Rar spoke of. Someone who had the potential to rival even her adept skills one day… was this her? He wished he had paid slightly more attention to the daft old woman now. Although Jen’Rar was horrid at moving objects and transporting them – she was quite good at finding them, and someone highly skilled in that branch of magick would make identifying the real artifact far easier.
Last but not least was the name: Cleo Denwater. Age 63. 63?! Dean Marthis rolled his eyes and grunted loudly. How on earth did Jeramiah come up with some of these names? He expected him to bring a wet-nurse along with him while he was trying to track down a thief! What would she be able to do? Knit him a bloody sweater?

She was definitely out. At least that was another easy one.

He rubbed his eyes and grabbed a hunk of cheese rather unceremoniously and jabbed it into his mouth. He wished he was in a better mood to enjoy it’s rich creamy flavour – but he tried to all the same. After-all, it was expensive.

“Fine.” He mused when he’d finally swallowed the cheesy lump. “He said two will remain, so I leave the Elf and the Hag behind.”

He raised his glass mockingly towards the names of those he would bring. “A toast to whichever one of you fools gets killed off. Cheers.”


Poetry: Queen of the Pride

Lioness; beauty in golden fur,
Calm in the storm of your own power.
Majesty of emerald plains
Prowling in moonlight hours.

Your pride is my family,
Your place is at my throne,
In your eyes I see myself,
In your presence I am home.

Lioness great queen on high,
You are Maiden, Mother and Crone-
You are all things joined in one,
Strength made into flesh and bone.

The sun rises on your back,
The moon rises in your eyes.
Great lioness I call to you,
Be with me at my side.

Share with me my burdens,
Whenever I may feel weak.
Bless me with your strength,
When lost among the sheep.





Personal Blog: Unfinished Stories..

The Unfinished Stories…

I occasionally dare a glance at the folder on my computer called “Writing”. This is where I keep all the bits and pieces, and hundreds of words of various stories I have either finished writing – or in the tentative process of trying to finish. This is where they sleep like little captive critters.

You see the truth is (as many of us on these blogs know) having a chaotically creative mind can be a dangerous thing. Certainly it can weave tales of wonder and can draw you into a world of your own creation – heart mind and soul… but it also wanders. A lot.

My creativity can be so focused on writing for a while, lost in multiple stories on the go that I could spend hours writing on each a night… to not having the inspiration to lift my viritual pen to the next week. Instead my creativity suddenly comes to realize that other forms of artwork needs my immediate and unshared attention!

You see Writing is one of my vents. Certainly it’s a love of mine. But it isn’t -my only- vent.

I’m in an equally committed relationship with my sketchbooks, watercolours and canvas. Oh the woes of a creative chaotic mind that has a shifting focus like a circling goldfish! (wait, did that rhyme?)

So, as artwork is where my bills get paid.. sometimes my focus draws there and I’m stuck in a cycle of art supplies rather then open word documents.

Really though, looking through my various writing files – truth is we are all probably like this in one way or another. Or at least I like to think most of us do. Maybe it’s because our mind builds stories so quickly we don’t have the actual time or ability to catch up with it? Or maybe it’s just the price we pay for being such creative beings? We get stuck as a slave to our muses and constantly chasing our own written tails? (Tales, hah!)

Ah well. One way or another I will hopefully finish all the unfinished stories and be able to keep a one track mind…

Who am I kidding? We all know -that- isn’t going to happen. So instead let me revise — hopefully one day I can finish far more stories then I start.

That sounds a bit more reasonable…


New Story: Untitled – Chapter Thirteen

(We finally continue the story where we left off.. Prime Dean Marthis is royally screwed, but choosing to try and weasel himself out of his own problems the only way he knows how! Trying to get someone else to do it…)

Prime Dean Marthis was a man of considerable wealth, political standing, and fancied himself well gifted in appearance – but what he was blessed with in social graces he lacked in common sense and patience. Therefore the chore of going through various student records to find a choice selection of pawns to bring with him on his journey seemed like a monumental task.

Paperwork was never his thing. Unfortunately he didn’t feel like testing his luck with Jen’Rar by making her do it either.

What to do? It was obvious this little trip needed to be handled immediately, there wasn’t much choice there. It was also obvious he wanted to put in as little effort for as little risk to himself as possible.

Hence why he found himself, folders and all, heading into the bowels of the school after hours. He muttered the entire way. Down a flight of cobbled stairs, into a dusty hallway that wasn’t entirely maintained well. It was trudged through by a very few handfuls of students who were chosen to study the boring and archaic study of Primitive Divination or the intensely rare subject of Physiological Magicks.

It was the former class in which he promptly invited himself into.

Ah.. Dean. What brings you to my dusty hoard?” There was a clinking noise as Jeramiah shifted. His deep raspy voice sent a small breeze towards the intruding man, curling plumes of candle smoke in the air. It made his nostrils tingle.

I see you still haven’t switched over to the more efficient lighting apparatus I mentioned? Seriously Jeramiah, I already told you I could install them myself if you so wished… I am sure your students would appreciate it.”

Jeramiah was one of the few newer additions to the college, although there was nothing about his classroom or his looks that would have ever given that indication. In fact, like most of the Primal Dragons, he looked as old as dirt. And possibly was.

However the esteem of having a dragon actually teaching in his college? Well, that was far too useful to throw away. Not only was it a bragging rite – it certainly gave the school far more character. Even if Jeramiah wasn’t always predictable.

I have no need of your fancy devices. I prefer the simplicity of wax and flame, and methods which have lasted far longer then you – little meat-sack. Now, you come bearing folders, files and nonsense – but I feel that has very little with what is truly on your mind.”

Marthis ignored the twitch in his right eye at the insult and swallowed down a nasty retort. Primal Dragons were amazing creatures – able to communicate and learn swiftly and intelligently. They were remarkable and extremely long lived… but had a tendency to be very bold, brash, and… brutally honest. They had little respect of social constructs or even political endeavours.

There was a reason it was such a high prize that Prime Dean Marthis could attain a dragon teacher for it’s school… because no other school managed to do it. Or bothered to try…

Look, I don’t care. I just need you to look over these damned files and tell me what students would be best to bring along with me so I can get my errand done as quickly as possible and get back to where I belong!”

Jeramiah’s large golden orbs of eyes seemed to glimmer in amusement as he crooned his long thin neck towards the man more. “Oh, and what pray tell is this errand of yours? One so important it would pull you from your precious hallways?”

…it’s not important. Well it is important but.. look it’s complicated… it’s not the point.” He almost dropped the files and instead fumbled them messily onto a table. “Can you do it or not?”

Jeramiah rustled out another deep raspy laugh as he stretched out – leaning his shoulders forward and pressing his spine in a gentle curve like a cat stretching after lazing out in a sunbeam for a while. His naked scales of ruby and bronze glimmered in the candle light.

Silly meat-sack, you talk and talk and forget what I even am. You forget what I do. You forget because your squishy brain is too busy with lazy devices and silly quick methods!”

That is quite enough!” His cheeks were flushed. “Can you do it or not?”

His laugh was much louder now. It seemed to shake the dust from the rafters of the large room.

You only go to prove my point. I teach Primal Divination, you idiot. I already knew you would come here. I already know why. And I have already made a list for your lazy eyes to see. My old dusty methods and all…” He grabbed a rolled piece of parchment from his side and chucked it to him. It was surprisingly heavy and thudded against his chest.

One word of warning, however. The future is never set in stone, so some things are still obscured to me. You indeed have a list of candidates there, five names of students you could bring. Each one has their purpose and qualities that will be useful. Take only three of them with you, for only two of you will return to this place. Pick wisely.”

His face, previously flushed with frustration now paled a little. He felt a chalky nauseous feeling in the back of his throat. “Are you saying I may die?”

Now the Dragon’s words were slower, his golden orbs glowing with an almost glimmering starlight deep inside. It wasn’t just the voice of the irritating Jeramiah, but the oracle in the dragon’s blood. The hissing sound of blood born divination that went far beyond spells or rituals.

When he realized what was happening, he tried to get out of the room as quick as possible. It was well known that a prophecy only becomes real when it’s heard by another soul, but the dragon’s voice followed him out as only a dragon’s voice can… some prophecies refused to be silent.

From five you will pick. But only three must depart.

Each one faces danger, and each will play their part.

Two will remain, but only two return again.

You had better choose them wisely,

for your life relies on them…”

Great, he thought to himself in a mental whimper. This was the last thing he needed. He made a mental note that when he finally got himself out of this tricky situation, he would fire that blasted dragon.


Poem: Unsaid Explanation

Unsaid Explanation

I love you –

I just can’t take your touch.

Losing my connection.

Lacking the corrections –

To make me what you need.

I want you –

But that’s just not enough.

Not when every part of me,

seems lost to this insanity.

Born without the capacity…

…To open up.

I’m too raw inside these walls.

I’m emotionally a catastrophe.

A creature fearing all intimacy-

And inside I’m all messed up.

I fear you.

You make me crumble.

Pointing out my complications –

Questioning my hesitations.

You make me weak.

Believe me…

When I tell you – I’m sorry.

My heart is self destructive,

I ‘m torn from the reconstruction –

But it’s just not me.

I need you.

I want you to understand.

Your friendship is my salvation,

Your words break the isolation,

You give me light.

I love you.

I want you… to open up.

I fear you.

Believe me… I need you.

Poem: Stranger In My Skin

( I decided to take a bit of a break from the current writing projects I have on here. So for the next few weeks I’m going to post a few random poems until I’m able to get back on track. I hope your 2018 is going well so far! )

Stranger In My Skin

Inside this skin something’s loose,

Lost in the corridors with the deepest roots,

I dare not leave it unrestrained,

Though it swears that it would ease the pain.

I know that beast’s not me.

The thing that lurks behind the walls,

In whispered words with sharpened claws,

Even though it persistently does still call to me.

Am I so different from the world?

Such a plague of misfortunes?

Is my blood not the color of crimson,

But something tainted and diseased?

Why is it then you shun me. Change me.

Break out the shackles and cage me?

Why is it every little thing I do –

Is something I’m not doing for you?

Why is it your love is a broken thing?

Why can’t you feel the touch of another being?

Is it possible that everything you fear in me,

Is what the world around you sees?

The beast grows silent, as do my thoughts.

I lay it down, replace the locks.

Inside my barricades I pull within-

I’m a stranger in my skin.

Dreamtime Adventures: A free story for children

A while ago I started an idea for a children’s book. Just something small that I wanted to try and create with artwork and a simple story. During this year, while I was needing something to keep me focused during quite a difficult time – I managed to get the artwork made, and the story flushed out.

It was certainly a learning process and definitely an experiment in making and understanding visual story-telling. It was hard to get over my perfectionism and stop trying to rework things -constantly- (It’s a bad habit of mine…) but I managed to get the artwork done, coloured, the story put in, and the project finished. It was excellent practice for potentially more stories told in this method later on.

I wasn’t sure what to do with the finished piece however.

After a long thought process I decided to post it on my website for free. Maybe one day I’ll make physical copies to sell – but for now I feel good about letting it go out into the world as it is.

So if you are interested in it, you can find it here:

Please don’t mind the watermarks – it’s a safe way of trying to protect the artwork.

If you have any comments or want to share your feedback, please remember that there is also a facebook group for this Blog here:

I hope to have more chapters up soon, just taking a break to write and settle after the holiday season.

Best wishes to all of you!