Have to do the work
When I originally wrote Black Mask & Pale Rider, I just wrote and based a lot of the story on aspects of spaghetti westerns with a little fantasy tossed in (a lot actually, considering the main characters are elves and possess magic). I didn’t do proper research at the time.
I made a lot of mistakes as well. I’m still proud of the end result of this first book, but there’s a lot that should and could be changed. Prime examples are falling into a role play trap of writing out the accents fully. That’s one thing I’ll change, especially with Pania’s. All I really need to do is describe her accent as a lilting Irish accent and people should understand. Shani has ended up with an Arkansas drawl, and while I’ll tone down the accent, there’s still things I call Shani-isms I’ll still keep. “Crap on a stick”, “Hotter ‘n a June bug on a smooth rock”, “I’m so parched, I swear there’s more water in a desert”, and so forth. I actually learned that before while writing Rocket Fox and realizing that I didn’t need to write out Senia’s lisp. It would actually be better and easier not to, and instead just describe that yes, Senia speaks with a lisp. Trust the reader to add that in.
Thanks to research, I’ve been able to change certain things about the characters, all the while adding in two new ones, and including three familiars (or companions). Shani along with her sister Wren will have some customs that are much more akin to Metis in Canada. There’s Abisayo who will have a lot of memories living with elves (and, of course, being an elf) that associated with Yoruba people in West Africa. The reason for that is because different cultures have similar folklore. Elves are an incredibly broad ranging race that many different cultures had stories about. From the Celts to the Norse to the different people of Africa, toward Asia as well, and onto North America. It can be argued that even pre and post Islamic cultures had folklore about elves. There are many stories about djinn and those creatures being called spirits. Many of those descriptions aren’t that far off from the descriptions of elves, pixies and fae folk from European cultures.
While I’m doing this, adding in the extra information and cultural references as back story for Black Mask & Pale Rider, I still need to ensure that I’m being as respectful as I can to the original cultures. And the people of colour in the book. No describing skin as “chocolate” or “creamy”, which reminds me more of a fetish than the actual description of a person.
I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, and it’ll be a while before the first book is released. I just need to push aside my current addiction and I’ll be fine.
Damn you, Skyrim!
Elves: there’s different cultures and folklore
Researching for a rewrite of a book can be time consuming and exhausting, however, it can also be rewarding.
When I began Black Mask & Pale Rider, it was just a simple story. Now I realize it can be a lot more than just a simple story. It can be something that can educate as well. The elves of this story had to be different, as did the characters. The first step was breaking from tradition and making the main characters female. The second step was giving Shani and Pania backgrounds in folklore and myth. Which I did find. The third step came (happily) when I began to learn a little bit about other folklore from different cultures, and I decided that this story doesn’t need just two elves, but three. And then four.
And so, Shani and Pania are joined by Wren, Shani’s sister. On their world Wren in a Consoler, sort of like an undertaker with full armour, a sword and an ability to perform medical needs. Wren is sort of like the classic Dungeons and Dragons cleric, dressed in full plate armour and carrying a sword and a shield. Wren most likely won’t be wearing full plate, or carrying a shield, but she’s still very much like a classic cleric.
And then, I came up with the idea for the fourth character. Abisayo Temilolu, a Yoruba elf, who comes from Nigeria and captured and sold into the slave trade. Shani, Pania and Wren find her and free her and Abisayo joins the four (safety in numbers, expecially with your own people). Abisayo’s name means (based on my research) born into joy; while her last name means Surrounded by God. With that meaning I decided quite quickly that Abisayo would in fact be a paladin. She is a holy warrior from her people. To that end, the other three elves would feel much safer having her with them.
So these elves aren’t your basic Tolkien style elves, nor are they the basic Dungeons and Dragon elves. They come from actual myth. And yes, Yoruba and Iroquois had folklore about elves. Abisayo is the only character that I did research for a name and a meaning that fit. The other three characters all have their names written long ago.
Abisayo Temilolu, Yoruba elf.
Born into joy; Surrounded by God.
From African Archives
(iii) The Spirits
Spirits are believed to be apparitional entities which form a separate category of beings from divinities and ancestors. The Yoruba regard them as powers which are almost abstract entities that take on human shape. They are usually associated with natural phenomena like trees, rocks, rivers, lagoons, forests, bushes, hills, earth, mountains, winds, dark groves and unusual places, and these become their abode. These spirits may even inhabit animals or birds or snakes. Such objects as they inhabit are regarded as having certain mysterious powers and they may become the emblems of the spirits. The objects may be used in the preparation of magic and medicine in the belief that they possess magical significance because of the spirits residing in them.47
The spirits come under various names such as Ajija or Aja (spirit of whilrlwind with knowledge of the use of herbs), Aroni (a spirit with one leg that teaches the use of herbs), Egbere (a smallish elf that carries a small mat and weeps all the time), oro (spirits of trees), ebora, iwin (a fairy believed to live in the ground, rock, forest or hill). The actual position of these spirits in Santería and Candomblé‚ requires further investigation. But among the Yoruba, they have real existence and they can be good or bad, beneficent or malevolent. Consequently, they are propitiated out of fear. They neither have priests nor festivals like the divinities and they assume no universal worship. That may explain why they do not command much attention in the diaspora.
Shani and Wren Wennemein; half European French, half Iroquois.
The little Elves of Darkness, so says the old Iroquois Grandmother, were wise and mysterious. They dwelt under the Earth, where were deep forests and broad plains. There they kept captive all the evil things that wished to injure human beings,—the venomous snakes, the wicked spiders, and the fearful monsters. Sometimes one of these evil creatures escaped and rushed upward to the bright, pure air, and spread its poisonous breath over the Upper World. But such happenings were rare, for the Elves of Darkness were faithful and strong, and did not willingly allow the wicked beasts and reptiles to harm human beings and the growing things.
When the night was lighted by the Moon’s soft rays, and the woods of the Upper World were sweet with the odour of the Spring flowers, then the Elves of Darkness left the Under World, and creeping from their holes, held a festival in the woods. And under many a tree where the blades of grass had refused to grow, the Little People danced until rings of green sprang up under their feet. And to the festival came the Elves of Light,—among them the Tree-Elves, Flower-Elves, and Fruit-Elves. They too danced and made merry.
But when the moonlight faded away, and day began to break, then the Elves of Darkness scampered back to their holes, and returned once more to the Under World, while the Elves of Light began their daily tasks.
For in the Springtime these Little People of Light hid in sheltered places. They listened to the complaints of the seeds that lay covered in the ground, and they whispered to the Earth until the seeds burst their pods and sent their shoots up to the light. Then the little Elves wandered through the woods bidding all growing things look up to the Sun.
The Tree-Elves tended the trees, unfolding their leaves, and feeding their roots with sap from the Earth. The Flower-Elves unwrapped the baby buds, and tinted the petals of the opening flowers, and played with the Butterflies and Bees.
But the busiest of all were the Fruit-Elves. Their greatest care in the Spring was the Strawberry Plant. When the ground softened from the frost, the Fruit-Elves loosened the soil around each Strawberry root, that its shoots might push through to the light. They shaped the plant’s leaves, and turned its blossoms toward the warm rays of the Sun. They trained its runners, and helped the timid fruit to form. They painted the luscious berry, and bade it ripen. And when the first Strawberries blushed on the vines, these guardian Elves protected them from the evil insects that had escaped from the world of darkness underground.
The old Iroquois Grandmother tells how once, when the fruit first came to earth, the Evil One, Hahgwehdaetgah, stole the Strawberry Plant, and carried it to his gloomy cave, where he hid it away. And there it lay until a tiny sunbeam pierced the damp mould, and finding the little vine, carried it back to its sunny fields. And ever since then the Strawberry Plant has lived and thrived in the fields and woods. But the Fruit-Elves, fearing lest the Evil One should one day steal the vine again, watch day and night over their favourite. And when the Strawberries ripen, the Elves give the juicy, fragrant fruit to the Iroquois children as they gather the Spring flowers in the woods.
Pania Alow, Celtic elves.
From Faeries
To understand what they are, we should look at some of those found in Celtic mythology and other Celtic traditions. But, then you would discover that fairies are not just confined in Celtic traditions. Many cultures and civilizations have their own versions of fairies.
There are enough kinds of fairies to confuse anyone, because sometimes writers have associated one fairy with a different kind.
In Celtic religion, there was Celtic deities in Gaul (France and Belgium), Hispania (Spain) and Britannia (Britain) during the Roman occupation of these regions or provinces. But the situation changed when Christianity spread to the west and north. These deities that were worshipped before the conversion to Christianity were reduced to the status of fairies in Celtic mythology and folklore.
So in Ireland the gods in the Tuatha De Danann were degenerated to the roles of fairies (eg. Dagda and Lugh), people living under the dune mound or fabled islands, or even within underwater domains. Similar degeneration occurred with old deities in Wales, Scotland and other surviving pockets of Celtic kingdoms (such as Cornwall, Brittany and island of Man).
These earlier Celtic traditions of fairies, the former Irish or Welsh deities were also not fairies in the usual sense. They looked very much like human, in size and shape, except that they have special magical powers and they seemed eternally young, but they don’t have wings. The Dananns or their Welsh counterparts were usually seen as race of fair people. They can die just as mortals can, but their lives could last hundreds or even thousands of years.
The problem is that sometimes, the Christian authors have also turned them into beings serving the Devil, and that the fairies were actually demons. However this view is no longer shared, today.
Shamless Self Promotion
It’s time for another round of shameless self promotion. There’s nothing wrong with it, after all. I didn’t write a book to be humble about it. I’m humbled by the process, but not be the result.
From time to time I’ll post up information about the first book I’ve written, called the Adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider. Here’s a little synopsis about the book, which is a western/fantasy.
Elven magic meets gunslinger grit. What happens when two elven travellers find themselves in the United States in the middle of the Civil War? The Adventures of Black Mask and Pale Rider tells the story of two elven women who’s curiosity gets the better of them.
The wild ride takes them from the Union to the Confederacy and back again. Along the way they make enemies and friends and learn a little bit about this world, and about themselves. An adventure of six guns and sorcery.
The Adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider isn’t the only book I’ve written, Canyons of Steel is also available. Here’s a quick synopsis.
What happens when an old gun hand makes a decision to turn his life around and set a new course? In Canyons of Steel, Johnathon Tiberius Walker makes the choice of turning his back on the underground military of the Red Hand and try to make right his own sins. All because he wants his daughter to live in a better world than he does.
Both my first book, Black Mask & Pale Rider, and my second book, Canyons of Steel, are available for purchase online through many different online book sellers.
Lulu.com (where both books were published)
- Tim Holtorf Author Spotlight the front page store for my books on lulu.com.
Amazon.com (both in paperback and in kindle versions)
Amazon.co.uk (both in paperback and in kindle versions)
Amazon.ca (price not listed and currently out of stock)
Barnes & Noble (for the Nook)
iTunes iBook store
A good addiction
As tyroper commented recently on Monday Morning Stuff and Things, Kindle is a good addiction. And I have become quite addicted to my Kindle.
I read more with my Kindle now than I have in quite a while. I’m not sure why, it may have something to do with the fact that It’s one thing to hold onto and it’s rather easy to use. Plus, I can store all sorts of books on it. I’ve even begun categorizing the different books I’ve got. I love the fact you can buy books anywhere, and it’s uploaded to your Kindle right then and there. I recently bought Phil Rossi’s book Harvey for the Kindle. I bought it through Amazon on my computer, because it was a special offer through Rossi’s facebook event page, and within seconds it was updating on my Kindle.
I also like the fact there’s a ton of free kindle books out there, direct from Amazon in many cases. I picked up the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes for free. That’s all the short stories, the couple of novels and the serial series as it appeared in the Strand Magazine.
I even love the fact you can categorize your books into different shelves. So far, I’ve got two; sci fi and fantasy. Soon, I’ll be adding western, nature, drama, and a couple others. Though, it will be difficult to categorize a book; Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy can be both a comedy and a sci fi. Even my own Black Mask & Pale Rider can be a fantasy and a western. Though, I doubt I want to go that far with organizing everything.
Needless to say, I do find this device addicting. But I also find it wonderful that I’m able to carry a library around with me in my coat pocket.
More changes a coming’
It’s a crypt angel from Magic the Gathering, but it works just fine for this.
A while back, I listed a few changes in the revamp of Black Mask & Pale Rider, particularly with the addition of Scales and Verit, and going a bit more in depth with how Shani and Pania arrived on Earth. As I’ve been plotting and making some additions to each of the stories, I’ve come to a certain realization that might change the dynamic in a way. When Shani and Pania arrive in a small Pennsylvania town between Reading and Harrisburg, they’ll encounter a vampire that’s terrorizing the community. The community is made up of Pennsylvania Dutch, and one of the first people they meet is Dieter Van Bueren, a young man who helps them out by giving them a few silver bullets to help fight the vampires.
In the revamp (pardon the pun) Dieter is going to play a larger role, but his role isn’t to be the hero to come save the day. He’s going to end up a part of the group going to fight off the lead vampire. Because Shani and Pania are already at the mouth of the vampire’s mansion, they reluctantly bring him along (partially, he’s there for comedic foil and because he ends up needing to be rescued a couple of times). But Shani and Pania are going to get some other assistance when they decide to send a message back to their home world and recruit the help of Shani’s sister, Wren Wennemein.
Rarilmawren Wennemein is her full name, and like Shani, she has raven black hair and tanned skin, almost brown. She’s a well cultured student of the many different cultures of the Green because of her vocation. She is what is called a Consoler. Consolers are clerical knights who tend to the needs of the dead and their families. So of like undertakers, but blessed with divine abilities to protect the living and make sure the dead remain in their endless slumber. The uniform of the Consoler is black armour or robes with gold trim, somewhat matching the dower nature of their vocation. Wren wears a rapier on her left hip and has a shield on her left on her left arm. Not a full shield, but one that is part of her bracer and allows her to block incoming attacks. Yes, Consolers are trained to fight, for defending the living is part of their vocation.
While Consolers are considered dower and rather bleak, Wren is rather opposite. She always has a smile and a kind word, and like many elves, she has a constant companion; a small fruit bat that hangs under her cloak that she raised from a baby when she found the bat on its own. Wren enjoys colour, even though her vocation only allows her armour and robes of black and gold. She paints her lips purple and and dark purple highlights. The main reason for this is her warm and friendly nature, and that she uses as part of her work as a Consoler.
Because she is a consoler, she has had to learn of every culture on her home world. At any time, a Consoler may be called upon to attend to the needs of a grieving family, and often that means they will have to go to other areas that are not of their home region. As described before, The Green has many cultures, all of which mirror Earth. Wren has in fact gone to many different areas and has performed burial rites similar to the ancient Norse traditions, the ancient Egyptian traditions and some similar to Native American, Mayan or Aztec rituals. Consolers will know the greetings that are to be used when arriving, they know the language and they will know what form of dress that the locals in the area wear and will often dress accordingly, adding something to their own uniform that is familiar to the culture they are attending to.
Conversely, the elven people see the arrival of a Consoler at a time of death as a figure of hope, because the Consolers take a great deal of care to ensure that every last wish of the deceased is carried out. Even still, there are those who associate Consolers with death and sometimes as a bad omen. This is similar to their rather dower and quiet nature.
Another duty of the Consoler is to enter the life history of a deceased into the Library of Names. Each elf that dies has their life recorded with the help of local bards, skaalds, scholars and story tellers. Once written, the book is then taken into the heart of the desert where the library resides, and carried into the main hall for cataloguing. Here at this library, the Consolers use their own language which is fittingly called the Consolers language. Some who have heard it call it a mix of every language in The Green.
As for Wren, she is especially good at this aspect, because she has a near photographic memory.
In the adventure with Shani and Pania, I’ve sort of begun the main plot where the two elven gunslingers call back to The Green, sending a message to Wren. My only thought now is if Wren stays throughout the remainder of the adventures or if she returns to The Green. I’m partially leaning toward having her stay, especially when the arrive in Shreveport and have to deal with zombies.
Anyway, that is one of the changes coming that I have in mind for the adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider.
Elven horses
One thing I’ve been recently thinking of doing with the whole Black Mask & Pale Rider world, is make their world a place of lost things. Things that no longer exist on Earth, but thanks to this mirror image world populated by elves, those things continue to live on. One of those things happens to be the main mode of transportation in this world; the horse.
Right off, I know people are saying “but a horse still exists in today’s world, they aren’t gone”. Which is correct. But to anyone who recognizes the above picture, this kind of horse died out around 5 million years ago. For a time it was believed to be the direct ancestor of the modern horse (but has recently been proven not to be the case). This member of equus happens to be called Pliohippus. With similar features to modern horses, plus just slightly smaller (Pliohippus was 1.24 meters tall, whereas modern horses average 1.6 meters tall) it makes it the perfect steed for the smaller elven people (who’s average height happens to be 5 to 5 and a half feet tall… not counting Nordicians… more on them in a bit).
Pliohippus lived in the Pliocene Epoch, and was similar to Equus but had two long extra toes on both sides of the hoof. Externally, these were barely visible as calloused stubs. Pliohippus had long, slender limbs, which meant it was built for speed and build to be able climb steep areas where it foraged for food.
These horses would be perfect for the smaller sized elves like Shani and Pania, and domesticating them wouldn’t be hard either. Stories from both old Celtic legend and Iroquois say the elves were nature spirits and helped to keep evil creatures at bay (along with being playful tricksters). With such a connection to nature, it wouldn’t be hard to have them begin breeding this breed of Equus as riding mounts at all. For horse drawn carriages, most likely they’d use oxen.
I did make mention of the Nordicians having a different kind of horse. That makes sense, considering these elves are based off of legends from Norse myth. The Nordicians are tall, powerfully built, and enjoy a good fight along with a good drink. They revel in stories of combat and victory and are rarely quiet. Their horses would match, which is why they’d most likely ride Dinohippus. Dinohippus was a horse that lived 10 million years ago, and live on Earth for about 6 to 7 million years. Three specimens of Dinohippus revealed that they weigh a lot; two specimens weighed around 1200 pounds, while a third weighed closer to 500 or 600 (this could have been a very young colt or foal). Based on bone structure, the Dinohippus was also a tall horse, measuring about 2 meters tall (about the size of a Percheron), which would have again been perfect for the taller Nordicians. Nordicians stand about 6 and a half to 7 feet tall. Yes, very tall elves. The other elves call them giants. It stands to reason, really, because the Percheron or Clydesdale would have been the horse of choice when going into battle. Not a smaller horse like an Arabian or Mustang.
The reason why I focused more on two extinct breeds of horse is that it adds a bit more to this world and makes it slightly different, yet very similar, to Earth.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: A new dawn rises
Picture found on obsidianportal.com, used as a suggested look for Scales. Used without permission, do not own any copywrite on material.
This is the new write up introduction for the adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider, and sets the scene as Pania and Shani get ready for their guests so they can continue their story which leads into the first part of the actual book. Scales and Verit are the primary focus of this bit, which means that Scales and Verit will be added to the scenes of the original book.
The Town of Brockton, Brytolonia
First day of the month of the bloom
Like most dwellings in the small town of Brockton, there was a certain bard’s home that was nestled in a small grove of trees. A two storey dwelling, with burnt brown painted walls and a white trim and large windows to let the light stream into the many rooms of the home. The front yard was kept neat and clean with a simple stone pathway that lead to the front door from the front gate. On the gate there was a sign, painted in rich browns and reds and blues that simply read “The Abode of Pania Alow”. In the back of the house was a neatly planted flower garden that surrounded a well organized sitting area. Beyond the small garden there was a small pathway that lead through the trees to a clearing. Along the pathway were a few flower boxes placed perfectly where they would get the most light, even in the shade of the trees. In the clearing there was a small barn and paddock where three horses grazed quietly. One of the horses was a white mare, a strong horse, a good horse for riding. She happened to be the faithful steed called Triumph, which the bard Pania Alow would saddle up when she needed to travel any great distance. One of the other horses was still very young, and much smaller than Triumph. The small one always kept close to the white mare; as that one was only a few weeks. This was one of Triumph’s offspring. Like the bard who would ride her, Triumph was very protective of the small colt that stayed by her side.
The other horse was a chestnut stallion. Stallion might be stretching it a bit. But he also stayed close to Triumph and the young colt, because he happened to be the father of the weeks old colt. His name was Gippsum, and he was very familiar with Triumph and Pania, because he was owned by another elf named Shani Wennemein.
The inside of the house was much like its exterior; simply when it needed to be, but rather ornate when one would look in a particular nook and cranny. The main floor had five rooms; a living room, dining room, kitchen, pantry, and a washing room. Upstairs there were also five rooms; the master bedroom, a small library, a guest bedroom, a sitting room, and a tailoring room. The owner of this house was known for her mending and creating of clothing just as she was known for her ability to write books.
Throughout the house there was a feeling of comfort and calm, as the interior was given a decoration of soft solours and rich wood. The walls were painted with a muted floral design, similar to the designs on the furniture cushions. It was a perfect home for someone who wanted to while away the hours writing, tailoring or even relaxing. This was the home of an elven songstress.
Pania Alow wasn’t the only one who lived here. Upstairs in library sat a small violin. But this wasn’t an ordinary violin, as it had small windows, balconies and a tiny front door, about three inches tall. The perfect size for a pixie to walk through. For indeed, a pixie did live in the transformed violin. Verit, a pixie who bonded with Pania when the Arcane Academy tried to recruit the bard. Fortunately, Verit wasn’t like other magical familiars, as she was more adventurous and often let her curiosity get the better of her. Which was just fine for a bard. Pania didn’t need a small helper to craft spells or read incantations. Her magic came naturally to her, not like that of a wizard who needed to read volumes of tomes in order to grasp the finer qualities of a spell. And Verit liked that just fine, just as she liked the small house that Pania had made for her. It was her home, after all, and she decorated it as she saw fit.
Verit herself was not an extraordinary pixie, for she had all of the qualities found in the most common of creatures. Her pale green skin, her bright green hair that looked like small branches that ended with small leaves, and even her gossamer wings. Her choice of clothing, however, was very different; she wore what appeared to be pixie versions of denims, riding chaps, a corset and a poet’s shirt. An odd combination but not so odd when one consider the elf she was bonded to, and Pania’s partner. A more rugged elf named Shani Wennemein.
Not far from the violin house, resting comfortably on a small pile of gems and coins and bobbles and trinkets, was another creature that was familiar with Verit. But this creature was not a pixie. This creature was a pseudo dragon. The small variety of dragon, measuring three feet from the tip of his snout to the tip of his tail. On this particular day, he was curled up, resting quietly, his wings tucked close to his body as he breathed evenly. This was Scales, a small version of the grand copper dragons that roamed the northern deserts in the lands near Dawn’s Rise.
At one time, Scales was a companion of a very powerful, but somewhat eccentric mage. Through a rather unfortunate series of events, the mage was killed by bandits while he was traveling from the great city of Stonebridge through the Messewan forest, to the equally great city of Long Bridge. Scales was taken as a prize of the bandits’ plunder. It seemed as though Scales would live out his life as a trained pet by some ignorant elven bandit who knew nothing of magic.
Through a series of rather fortunate events, the bandits’ trail was picked up by Shani Wennemein. To make a long story short, suffice it to say that Shani dispatched the bandits, helped avenge the mage, and freed Scales. Because Scales was what Scales was, he felt he would stay with Shani, and when she traveled he would be found perched on her shoulder, often resting comfortably. You see, Scales was particularly lazy, though, when he needed to be he could be rather formidable. And he quite liked the elven maid who freed him.
On this day, Scales knew that there would be company coming over to this humble abode of Pania Alow’s. The first clue was that Shani agreed to stay in the guest bedroom, after she and Pania had told their friends and relatives a few days before about where they both were for the past year. Shani often would sneak off to her little cottage in the woods, a humble home that looked out over a small lake on the northern shore from the town of Brockton. Scales liked the peaceful area, combined with the fact there weren’t many visitors. Not that he didn’t like it when Shani entertained, but it was their home, and unless someone came invited, it felt like an invasion. Today, however, would be different. He knew for a fact that Verit would have company. Other than himself that is. Another pixie, who was the familiar to an odd elf.
Scales thoughts on this elf and this pixie were suddenly interrupted as the owner of the home he was currently in came into the room. Pania Alow, a rather soft and curvy looking elf, dressed in the finest of clothing, from the bright white poet’s shirt to the leather corset and right down to the soft cotton slacks and thigh high boots she wore. Scales knew that Pania was an elven woman of fashion and taste. To many others, that might be all they saw; even with her curly blond hair, done in a stylish fashion that allowed her ears to show. People would see them decorated with earrings and chains, seven piercings per ear. They’d think that Pania was a women built for the stage, a pretty thing to rest on the arm of some noble gentleman.
But Scales knew better. First, Pania wasn’t just a bard. She knew how to use a rapier, and how to fire a pistol. The latter of which she owned two, and often wore one at her waist so her left hand could draw it, while the other sat neatly at her hip. She was also a practiced sorceress, able to cast powerful magic should the need arise. Second, Scales knew that Pania was far more attracted to ladies than to men, and while she may have been on the arm of men at one time or another, it was always the women she had her eyes on.
As Pania entered the room, she was carrying a small try. On the tray was a pixie sized breakfast arrangement, including chairs and a small table. There was tea, and small biscuits, as well as a normal sized dish with an arrangement of meats and fruit all cut up and laid out with care. Scales lifted his head, his long neck craning to inspect the plate much closer. He had an idea what that plate was made for. Pania saw his look and smiled brightly.
“Cannu fool one like you, Scales,” she said as she gingerly placed the plate in front of him. “It’s a wee bit early in the mornin’, but I thought I’d get things ready for our guests comin’ ’round today.” Scales bowed his head in thanks, fully understanding what Pania said. He picked up a piece of apple and sniffed it, then stopped as he watched Pania gently wrap a finger on the front door of the violin house. Both Scales and Pania waited a moment, then the elven bard wrapped gently on the door once again. Finally, the doors to a small balcony, on what would be the second floor of the violin opened up, and a tiny pixie stepped out stretching her arms above her head and letting out a large yawn. “Good mornin’, Verit,” Pania said quietly as she set out the pixie sized breakfast items. “It’s much earlier fer ye than normal, but I thought it best ta get yerself started. Ye’ve got company comin’, after all.”
Verit looked about, saw Scales and waved, then thought about Pania’s words a moment. She jumped up and squeaked with glee as she realized who was coming around. A small pixie named Aasia, the familiar to a wizard known as Waien Argith. She dashed into her house and quickly dressed, then bounded down the stairs and came out the front door. It was all very fast, which is rather normal for a pixie.
As Verit sat herself down to her morning breakfast, and as Scales munched away on a piece of apple, in the hallway there was a loud stumbling sound. Everyone, Pania, Verit and Scales, all stopped what they were doing and looked to the doorway. The disheveled elf that was Shani Wennemein appeared. Her raven black hair was all strings this way and that, she shirt was slightly crooked and she still wore her denims. Something she’d picked up over the last year. Pania sighed and thought at least she didn’t go to bed in her boots as well.
“Best ta get washed an’ dressed,” Pania said as she moved over to the doorway. Shani was leaning heavily against it, a sign that she still wasn’t used to the feather bed that Pania owned in the guest bedroom. “We’ve got ta get the horses tended to an’ prepare ‘em in the way they know that company’s comin’.”
“Right,” Shani said with a nod of her head and ran her slender fingers through her hair. “Right after a belt.”
“No!” Pania said quickly. “No whiskey. ‘Specially no’ this early in the mornin’. No’ with Waien comin’ over.”
Shani was about to whine a complaint, but thought for a moment. While she could handle her alcohol, Waien was often less able to. It was known quite well, from Brockton to Stonebridge, the carousing that Waien would do. It gave him a rather infamous reputation, which did nothing for his standing within the circle of the druidic elves who were the wilders. The elves who tended to the needs of the natural world, of which Waien’s father was the chief of Brytolonia. “Right, I’ll wager thet I can abstain fer t’day,” she finally drawled. “But I will need a good, strong cup o’ coffee.”
Pania rolled her eyes and chuckled slightly. “You an’ yer coffee.”
“Is Villith comin’, too?”
“Aye,” Pania said with a nod as she moved into the hallway, ushering Shani downstairs. “Waien said he’d bring her ’round.”
“Waien’s bringin’ her medicine, ain’t he.”
“If there’s one thing I know ’bout Waien, it’s how he has never done his wee sister wrong,” Pania replied as she gave Shani a small push toward the washing room. “Now go, get yerself washed up an’ I’ll make coffee. Ye can have a drink, an’ then we need ta tend ta the horses.”
Upstairs, Verit and Scales continued with their morning meal. Verit happily squeaking in pixie to Scales, excited that Aasia was coming and how he’d like her very much. Scales wasn’t sure, as most pixies he found annoying. Verit wasn’t, but he’d grown used to her ways and she’d actually become a friend. He gently pushed his plate a bit, so it sat beside Verit, then moved so he wrapped his body around Verit’s breakfast table and continued eating. There wouldn’t be mage fire or gun shots, but at least today would be exciting in another sort of way.
Readin’ stuff!
I’ve been working on a few posts on tumblr for Black History Month, which I might share here because it’s history and history is cool. But I also have a couple of new entries over on Wattpad as well.
The Rocket Fox Appendix which contains entries for terminology, ships, cities, countries, and various other things mentioned in the first book of Rocket Fox: Flight of the Nighthawk.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: The Tales of Terra Kal. I posted up an old story there, which most here are familiar with, How I Wish I Were In Sherbrooke Now.
An Open-source fantasy world
I had this idea kicking around my head the other day. What if you created an original world, whether it’s filled with Arthurian Knights, but instead of swords they carry pistols, or World War I was fought with steampunk airships and trench warfare was virtually unheard of, or even gunslingers of the wild west who instead of shooting bullets, had their high noon showdowns with magic and blasts of fire balls. Mixing and matching isn’t a bad thing, after all, some of the most interesting and creative works have come from mixing one form with another. MeLin Miranda’s Scryer’s Gultch, for example. Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. Even Girl Genius.
The current map of the fantasy world for Black Mask & Pale Rider. The name of the planet was changed from Terra-Kal to nullam tellus.
Now, what if this fantasy world gained a bit of interest, readers naturally will want more. But we ourselves as individuals often can’t find the time to write, and exploring an entire world from the deepest darkest forest to the tallest mountain right down to the depths of the sea may become an absolute monumental task. Oh, some have done it in the past, but it’s very rare indeed. And we live in a world of instant, where text messages, replies over social networks and phone calls can be made from nearly every place on the planet. When you’ve got a huge team of writers for a massive production, it’s often funded through a major company or studio, so you’ve got the money, people and resources to create this grand world. But we (by we, I mean most of us who just write stuff online and maybe get something published) don’t have that luxury or privilege.
The city of Stonebridge. Forgot I made this map.
During the 70s, 80s and 90s, major computer companies clung tightly to the code which was the backbone of their operating systems and applications. It was hard to reverse engineer the software, because it was so tightly guarded. And then, along came a group which used a new word at the time. It was called open source. The background code was open for everyone to view, build, offer suggestions, help design and even help set up places for the software or operating system to be shared. Linux was a big shaker with this. For a while, many felt it was the thing that would crush the evil Tyrant that was Sir Bill of Gates, Lord of Microsoft! (sorry, had to do that) While Microsoft never took a tumble from the great wall, it’s considered now that any Unix based operating system is more a competing platform along with Windows and the Mac X OS. But that idea of open source created a lot of really good project. Office suites were made, including OpenOffice. Full photo manipulation and vector art programs were released. Even some games were made available for open source.
Crowd sourcing is the new term, but that’s something for later. This is all about Open Source. And writing. Especially fantasy writing, but could also work for any genre.
As I was saying before, not everyone who writes is able to craft the massive amounts of ideas that come into their heads. Sometimes they get ideas for including similarities to all kinds of cultures and wants to create a fantasy world that is a mirror of the world we live in. At least with the people that exist in it. Because, really, where is it written that fantasy creatures, or even people who live in fantasy worlds, can’t be as diverse and layered as the world in which we live.
There’s already a lot of very pen worthy (or word processor worthy people) who are very skilled with the twisting of a sentence or two to make a very interesting plot. They’re called fanfiction writers (we’ll, at this stage, ignore the often spoken of rather troubling aspects of the fanfiction library). They already write in someone else’s playground, the universe that someone else created. Sometimes, they create interesting new stories that have a different twist on the characters. Some stories are self satisfying, which is okay. Because even self satisfying stories find an audience.
What if you were a fanfiction writer, and someone came up to you and said “I see you really like my book series, do you want to write a portion of the world, based on the rules of the world with your own characters”? It’s not much different than all the writers that have crafted for Star Trek novels or Star Wars novels. And I don’t think it’s laziness on the part of the original author. I just think it’s the author admitting something. ”This world I’ve created is really big, and I’m gonna need some help to tell all of the possible stories of this world. I know there’s a lot of really fantastic writers out there who don’t get the recognition they deserve, but maybe together we can bring about something and get a little attention for this world.”
One of the first maps I made for the world of Black Mask & Pale Rider.
I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, possibly doing that with the world that Black Mask & Pale Rider is from. Encouraging others to write stories about that world, and invite them to play in the playground I created. This idea even takes a step further. To encourage inclusion within the borders of a fantasy world. Fantasy books are essentially mirror images of the world we live in. They are developed based on the experiences that we have gathered and that we have had. Whether that be from researching on old myth and putting a twist on it, or by taking a real life event and putting that into the context of a fantasy setting to teach people a moral lesson.
It’s a big world, and not one single person can do justice for everyone that might read something from that world.
Black Mask & Pale Rider Poetry
I wrote these a while ago, and may have posted them before, but for the life of me I can’t find them. So, here they are once again! The Ballads of Black Mask & Pale Rider.
The Ballad of Black Mask
A swagger in her step, a hand hovering at her hip
She’ll flash a smile, a knowing wink
A calm reserve that can fool the most able
She’ll cut you down faster than you can think
“I am the fastest this world has seen”
She’ll boast with full bravado
“I am the fastest that’s ever been”
Before one can blink she’ll up and go
Quick with her witt and quick on the draw
Her goal is simple and beyond compare
Willing to fight and willing to rumble
Her eyes seem to glisten without a care
Just who is this adventurer, one might ask
A gunslinger by choice, an elf by birth
Roaming the worlds with partner by her side
She lets loose a laugh filled with joy and mirth
Born to aristocracy, she doesn’t seem to fit
In a world built in magic and towers
She became a thief seeking adventure
Planning each move in what would seem hours
Her name became legend throughout this world and hers
A claim she will lay down when opportunity arise
A boast and a brag, one would think she was a bard
Adept with a tale as though she’d change her guise
As the years would move on, she’d take on new challenges
At different times a thief, a sheriff, a marshal
With each one she’d grow, her fame ever changing
Her heart filled with cheer as a challenge would call
Many have tried to find this wild elf
Many have failed to claim her as their own
Hard to catch, even harder to tame
She’ll remain a mystery, in this world and even her home
This tale is legend, or that is true
An elven maid with her eye on a task
The legend known through the rugged west
As the outlaw known as Black Mask.
Song of the Skald
Now gather ’round an’ ‘ear me tale
It’s one o’ epic adventure
So take a seat an’ grab an ale
An’ I’ll tell it with true measure
I be a skald, a bard, a songstress
O’ that there is no doubt
I yarn ta spin wit’ fullness
Tha’ll make ye grin fer naught.
Ye’ll wish ta listen closely now
So bend close an’ keep sharp
I’ll let ye in on the why’s an how
An’ nev’r need the sound o’ a harp.
This tale be true, one ‘undred percent
Would I lie ’bout somethin’ like tha’?
So sit righ’ there, dear ladies an’ gent
An’ I’ll b’gin with a wee small chat!
I’ll brandish me pistol, draw forth me rapier
At one time I’d force wee pretties away
But t’day, the song is much more merry
A tale o’ how I came ta this place so long an’ grey!
Twas one dark night, as it always would begin
Paints a picture o’ darkness an’ forebodin’
An’ in this case be true, I swear on me pistols twin
Now let me continue b’fore this tale be erodin’!
In the valley o’ mists, through the dark trees
I found the gateway ta what I thought the great beyond
I felt the cold come through the gate, an’ thought I’d freeze
But I knew ta venture through an’ held meself strong!
‘Round here, there’s merry an’ mirth
But there in that diff’rent land
Far flung from me elven birth
Was a cruel place rule by a gun hand!
So sit yeself down an’ lend me yer ear
For I’ve a tale ta tell an’ ye’ll no’ wanna miss
It’s a harrowing yarn that could give ye fear
But I promise ’twill end with a Skald’s bold kiss.
Words by Tim Holtorf, artwork by Clarissa R. Hummel
It’s freakin’ Christmas time!
Ya know what that means? You should get gifts for people! You know what kind? BOOKS!
I wrote some! Fancy that! From time to time I’ll post up information about the first book I’ve written, called the Adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider. Here’s a little synopsis about the book, which is a western/fantasy.
Elven magic meets gunslinger grit. What happens when two elven travellers find themselves in the United States in the middle of the Civil War? The Adventures of Black Mask and Pale Rider tells the story of two elven women who’s curiosity gets the better of them.The wild ride takes them from the Union to the Confederacy and back again. Along the way they make enemies and friends and learn a little bit about this world, and about themselves. An adventure of six guns and sorcery.
The Adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider isn’t the only book I’ve written, Canyons of Steel is also available. Here’s a quick synopsis.
What happens when an old gun hand makes a decision to turn his life around and set a new course? In Canyons of Steel, Johnathon Tiberius Walker makes the choice of turning his back on the underground military of the Red Hand and try to make right his own sins. All because he wants his daughter to live in a better world than he does.
Both my first book, Black Mask & Pale Rider, and my second book, Canyons of Steel, are available for purchase online through many different online book sellers.
Lulu.com (where both books were published)
- Tim Holtorf Author Spotlight the front page store for my books on lulu.com.
Amazon.com (both in paperback and in kindle versions)
Amazon.co.uk (both in paperback and in kindle versions)
Amazon.ca (price not listed and currently out of stock)
Barnes & Noble (for the Nook)
iTunes iBook store
Ya wanna know what else is cool! Tomorrow I’m going to give all of my followers (or just anybody who likes to read this blog) a present. Their own digital copies of Black Mask & Pale Rider and Canyons of Steel! FREE! Buy a book for a friend, and I’ll have a digital copy available for download. What’s even better? These digital copies will have new stuff in them! They’ll be pdfs so you can read them on whatever device you like (even your freakin’ laptop or desktop computer). They’ll have artwork from both Clarissa R. Hummel and myself, plus maps!
So buy a book for a friend! And for all my followers, tomorrow I’ll have digital copies available for download.
Writing: Sitting at 32K Words
With three days left in the month of November, I have hit the 32,000 word mark. Well back of where I had hoped to be, and astonishingly, while this started with Black Mask & Pale Rider (for which I wrote 19,000 words) I switched it up and went back to Rocket Fox (which I wrote 13,000 words).
Right now, I’m hoping to hit 40,000 words for the month, which will be decent enough. I’ve also listened to a few people who made some suggestions for when the book is complete. This is a completely different world, if not universe, than what has been written before. Vulpinia Prime makes mention of several locations, so I’m going to make several maps and add those to the end of the book. I’ll also have a glossary of terms, which include slang, place names, vessels and the like.
I’m hoping I can complete the first book by the middle of December and have a draft copy to go over and make any editing notes, then begin a rewrite in January and February. For some reason, I always find the rewrites easier because I just have small things to add here and there, change up or remove. It’s also harder, because I often have things that must be removed. Then of course, there’s always continuity issues. Once the rewrite is complete, I’ll set the book aside for a bit, set up the plot line for book two, then come back to book one and make any further changes.
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Writing: Rocket Fox – the soundtrack
The music I’ve been listening to while writing Rocket Fox has helped, though at times it does get distracting. I’ll stop writing and just imagine. Have a movie in my head play along with the music. But, those times actually do help in writing. They make it so I can visualize things a lot better when I write and help push things forward.
I’ve only hit 30K words with this NaNoWriMo, and it’s been a little disappointing. I know November isn’t over yet, and I could push to hit 50K quite easily. It’s been an uphill battle, writing almost 20K words in Black Mask & Pale Rider, then switching gears mid way to start (or continue, rather) writing more in the Rocket Fox universe. I’ll carry on, actually, and keep moving forward. I’m not giving up on either of them, it just might take me a little longer is all.
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Writing: Switching gears
A little voice in my head said that it would be a bit of a struggle going through NaNoWriMo this year. I hit a massive road block in my writing for Black Mask & Pale Rider, where all my thoughts and ideas drifted. I sort of know what I want to write, but it’s difficult because the will just isn’t there. As well, I keep having ideas that crop up that don’t take place on Earth in 1863, but in deep space on the other side of the galaxy. Which, may be a problem considering I’ve dreamed up two separate worlds.
So, after several days of procrastination and avoiding my stories altogether (combined with some self loathing and depression), I’ve decided that while it’s not part of Black Mask & Pale Rider, I’ll still write what I need to for the first book of Rocket Fox. I had some ideas spark with that work, and I’ve been neglecting it for a while now. So the remaining days will include flipping back and forth between stories. With 11 days left, I might get close to 50K, but I’m not too sure. There will, undoubtedly, have to be a couple of days where I put in a massive push to the finish. Force myself to write. We’ll have to see how it goes.
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Writing: every weapon needs a name
After a crappy weekend, where I spent most of it wrapped in a blanket and sneezing, I managed to pound out several words this morning in my push to 50,000 for November. I’m still in a good way to make it, but if I falter, I could find myself coming up short. Later this evening, I’ll have to put in an extra push.
As is common with most fantasy worlds, they have epic weapons with unique names. King Arthur had Excalibur. Drizzt Do’Urden had the Icingdeath & Twinkle Scimitar Swords. The names of weapons will be no different in Black Mask and Pale Rider. Pania will even have a rapier dubbed the Skaald’s Blade Song. And, soon she’ll have a pair of pistols dubbed the Skaald’s Twin Volcanics. One will be named Gaia, and the other will be named The Green. The names will become important and explained in the story. Eventually, even Shani’s pistols will get a name, and the name of her short blades will be revealed.
Names are important, as it’s been said before by someone other than me. Names give things power, in a way. And weapons do have power. Depending upon the hands that wield them that power can be incredibly honourable or incredibly terrible. I’ll try to put that on display in this story, and the coming stories surrounding the pair of elven gunslingers. But for now, suffice it to say that the adventures are coming along. Pania’s weapons have been named, and soon, Pania will get her moniker to add to her legend in the story of Black Mask and Pale Rider.
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Writing: how to deal with cold iron
As myths of elves go, they are vulnerable to cold iron. They can be trapped by it, their magic nullified by it. Which itself became a problem for having two elves wield pistols. Technically, pistols are made with cold iron. So it would be difficult to have Shani and Pania use pistols. There had to be a way around this.
Enter elven steel and mithril.
On Shani and Pania’s home world, I determined that elven steel and mithril could be as common as copper on Earth. And it would make sense that those who had weapons or armour that required such metals, would carry a brick or two of each on their person in order to make repairs. Considering that the elves live a long time, a brick might last them close to one hundred years. That’s even taking into account how durable elven steel and mithril is.
So, Shani will have a pair of custom made Colt 45 long barrels crafted using elven steel and mithril. In this original world of Terra-Kal, elven steel and mithril are two different metals. So, in order for Shani and Pania to get such pistols, they have to go to a gunsmith to order them. Such a part of the story has been written.
Artemis Thackery Gunsmith, Repair and Ammunition. The shop was in the middle of town and was the tallest building in town, next to the clock tower in the town square. The proprietor, one Artemis Thackery, was an older gentleman who had an affinity for fine pistols. He made a decent living with his trade, as many around the area took up his services. But what he was about to encounter would be a first even for him. Never during his forty years of crafting pistols had anyone ever made such a request. So when the small woman with the shoulder lizard walked into his shop along with Clayton Johnson, he was rather taken aback by her request.
“Miss,” he said slowly. “You understand the only other metals that I use in crafting a pistol are silver. And that only for the handle, to give it a rather dignified look. That is only about aesthetics not the actual functionality of the pistol itself.” Artemis spoke in a soft tone, which betrayed his origins. He was most likely born in New York and moved to Arkansas in the last ten years or so.
“I am way ‘head o’ ya, sir,” Shani said as she lifted her ruck sack and took out a brick of mithril and a brick of elven steel. “This here is mithril, an’ this one is… light steel.” She pause and gave the metal a more commonly associated name, because the fewer questions the better.
“Metals ‘re light,” Clayton explained. “Which’d give Shan here a better grip.”
“Light metals aren’t good for crafting a pistol,” Artemis argued. “The pistol could destroy itself the first time it was fired.”
Shani held up a hand to draw Artemis attention to her. She reached into her coat and took out one of her short swords, twirled it as she was often known to do, and held it out for Artemis to examine. “The blade is made with light steel. Strong an’ sturdy,” she said tapping on the blade. “An’ real light. This could cut through steel, if need be. An’ the handle is made from mithril, with a leather bindin’ for a good grip.” She held the blade out for Artemis to examine closer. He held the blade carefully in his hands, marvelling at the craftmanship.
“It’s so light,” he said as he tilted his glasses down on his nose. “And I can tell it’s very strong. Something like this would make a fine pistol.” He looked up to Shani with a hint of dejection as he went on. “But one must have the proper foreknowledge of such metals. I just can’t use this and expect it to act the same as steel. What about melting temperatures? The malleability of the steel itself…”
Again, Shani held up a hand and reached into her ruck sack. She produced a small book, her own writings that she had transcribed the previous night at Clayton’s cabin. The pair had obviously prepared for everything. Shani knew the proper temperatures and how much flame to use in crafting the weapon she needed. “This here will explain alla thet,” she said as she handed him the book.
Artemis flipped through the pages and skimmed each passage, nodding as he began to understand the science that was being described. “It will take me a couple of days to have them ready,” he said as he put the book down and looked to Shani. “It won’t be cheap, however.”
“How much we talkin’?” Shani asked as she leaned over the counter.
“Well, something this complex will take care and time,” he said. “Most usually want their pistols the next day, but something like this will need attention. I can craft something which will be akin to a Colt 45 long barrel for you. Which usually run about one hundred and fifty dollars. Using this odd metal… have to add in fifty dollars. And some of your rather… intriquate designes you’ve drawn for the pistol grips,” he said as he motioned to Shani’s hand drawn designs. “That will cost an additional fifty. Double that price for two pistols.”
Shani was busily counting her cash behind the counter, then looked up to Artemis. “What if I were ta add two more bricks o’ light steel fer yer own purposes?”
Artemis looked to Shani for a brief moment, then turned his attention to the brick of elven steel that lay on his counter. It felt like steel, and looked like the brick would have heft to it, but when he picked it up, it felt as light as a feather. “You have two more bricks of this?” he asked. Shani replied with a firm nod. “Payment in advance?”
“Deal,” Shani said with another firm nod.
“You come by the day after tomorrow, Miss,” Artemis said as Shani handed him the cash and two extra bricks of elven steel. “And you shall have two of the finest Colt 45 long barrels ever crafted.”
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Writing: Pania Alow’s influences
Yesterday, it was Shani I posted the influences of. Today it’s Pania Alow.
Pania Alow also has a lot of influences, but not in the same aspect as Shani does.
Pania is adventurous, a tad odd and will often spout long soliloquies without warning (much to the chagrin of Shani). And Jack Sparrow (sorry, “Captain” Jack Sparrow) fits the bill. Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Sparrow pretty much fit the bill for what Pania’s attitude is like.
Granted, she’s got a bit better hygiene.
This isn’t so much an influence of Pania’s attitude, but a sample of her fighting style. To pick one would be an injustice to the other. Because Pania is a sword singer, and she has studied the bladed arts for years. Much like Westley and Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride.
Black Mask & Pale Rider is a western at it’s core, but there’s room for a duelist the likes of Pania Alow in the story.
The last influence for Pania Alow.
And no, it’s not Hugh Jackman as Van Helsing. This is where I suddenly began seeing Kate Beckinsale as Pania Alow.
Beckingsale plays Anna, the last of a noble house who is plagued by Dracula’s curse. She is fighting to end that curse. Which is a quality Pania holds. She doesn’t back down unless everything is lost.
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Writing: Day four total
I could write more, but I’m happy with my total thus far. I’m currently on track to hit 50,000 words on November 17. I know I won’t because there will be some days that I’ll only write a small amount, and then there will be days like today where I wrote close to 8,000 words. But today’s total happens to be 11,455.
And so, as a small congratulations, I offer one piece of what I’ve written. The story of Scales and how he came to stay with Shani.
As soon as Clayton managed to get out of Shani what some of her favourite foods were, and avoiding anything that he didn’t have on hand, he set about to cooking up something simple. Hash browns, some sausage, butter toast and a few fresh vegetables from his garden in back of his cabin. He noticed Scales watching him closely, making note to himself how much like a cat the tiny dragon was. Everyonce and a while, he’d cut up a fresh piece of food, sometimes a potatoe, sometimes a sausage, and offer it to the small dragon. Scales approved of the sausage, but wasn’t too pleased with the slice of potatoe. Clayton figured it out once Shani told him what he really liked.
“He’s partial ta apples,” Shani said as she reached for her ruck sack, rummaged around a bit and pulled out an apple. Scales perked up as he saw the red fruit and settled in beside Shani as she cut it up.
“Ya know somethin’,” Clayton said as he served up the meal on two separate plates. ”He reminds me o’ a cat. A lady in town that I did some work for, built a huge bookcase for her, she had a cat. Acted lot like he did.” He set both plates down, one in front of Shani, the other at his own seat. Scales was happily munching on a piece of apple, holding it in his foreclaws tightly. ”So where did ya find him?”
“I found him ’bout ten years ‘go,” Shani said, finding it much easier and more comfortable to speak with Clayton. Her stutter had all but vanished, but Clayton noticed she was trying very hard to sound like him. ”I was on the Merchant Road, what goes from Stonebridge ta Overbrooke. An’ ’bout half way there, I found a caravan been attacked by brigands.” She mentioned places like Clayton would know them, and to be polite he nodded and listened to her story. They had to exist, after all. Because she existed, she was an elf. Who had a tiny dragon as a companion. ”So I took it ‘pon myself ta track down the brigands. They did a nasty job, stole everythin’, killed everyone. It was an ol’ wizard who was well known. I reported it ta the Patrollers… thet’d be like yer sherrif… an’ said I’m gonna track ‘em down.” She paused to take a bite of food before continuing. ”Most time, brigands ’round thet area get away ’cause nobody can find ‘em. But I have experience in trackin’, an I hunted ‘em down an’ found their hideout. They had a ton o’ stuff there; gold, jewels, parchment, some items o’ rare antiquity. I made a few marks an’ got a small group o’ Patrollers ta follow me, an’ we got the jump on ‘em.”
“Was there a fight?” Clayton asked, actually quite enthralled with Shani’s story.
“Hell no,” she said with a smirk and shook her head. ”Them ones never even put up a fight once they seen ten heavily armed Patrollers with long blades, flintlocks an’ blunderbus at the ready. I stuck ’round ta sort out through all o’ the items an’ I found him,” she said as she motioned to Scales. The tiny dragon had his head propped up on Shani’s right arm, and she reached over and tickled his neck lightly. He nipped playfully at her, then rolled over as Shani scratched as his belly. ”They had ‘im locked up in a cage, so I opened it an’ set ‘im free. He crawled right up my arm an’ sat right on my shoulder. After a while, ’cause the wizard for whom he was a familiar was dead, it were decided I’d take care o’ him.” She chuckled as Scales began playing grabby with her fingers as she scratched his belly. ”We been together ever since.”
“Well, I ain’t never had anything like him b’fore,” Clayton said as he shook his head and smiled at the attention Shani gave the tiny dragon.
“You got yer horse.”
“Not really the same,” Clayton replied. ”I doubt he’d react the same to a belly rub as he would.”
“I’d like ta get me a horse,” Shani said with a firm nod. ”An’ maybe some clothes ta fit in a bit better ’round here. I kinda stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Well, yer gonna need money,” Claytons said as he finished up his plate. ”I don’t know what y’all use back where you come from, but here it’s dollars.”
Shani reached down to her ruck sask and pulled up a large coin purse. It rattled and clinked as she lifted it up. There was something valuable in there, and whatever it was, Shani had a lot of it. She opened up the purse and let Clayton look inside. There was several coins, all gold, pure gold, sitting strewn about in her purse. He looked up to Shani and nodded slowly. ”T’morrow, we’ll get you some new clothes an’ a new horse. I think you got more ‘n ‘nough.”
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Writing: Shani Wennemein’s influences
A look into the inspiration for the characters of Shani Wennemein and Pania Alow.
Shani Wennemein is the gunfighter of the duo, but she has a particular attitude. Part of that will come with her dealings with Slowhand Johnson, as she will borrow a lot of how he speaks into her own speech patterns.
But she has outside influences and inspiration for how I wrote her. One of those happened to be Val Kilmer’s portrayal of Doc Holliday in Tombstone. She has witty, almost philosophical sayings that will just spring forth, which is part of how she plays her hand in a gunfight.
Val Kilmer’s role as Doc Holliday wasn’t the only inspiration for Shani Wennemein. Emilio Estevez, who played Billy the Kid in Young Guns and Young Guns 2, also had a hand in that inspiration.
Shani, at times can be a tad cocky. So far, it’s never been her down fall. She proclaims, and it’s often seen as a legitimate proclamation, that she is the “fastest gunhand in these here United States. If not this entire world”. This isn’t brashness or overconfidence. This is what helps her move forward in dealing with any problem. She sees it, she figures out a solution, and without hesitation, she moves forward.
To that, the quote “he who hesitates is lost” works quite well for Shani.
The last movie influence for Shani Wennemein was Ellen, played by Sharon Stone in The Quick and the Dead.
Like Ellen, Shani doesn’t stand for certain things. And she acts accordingly, and sometimes violently, to the situation. It’s not because she likes violence, but it’s because she’s disgusted by the way humans treat each other.
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Writing: A sample and a difficult word
I had mentioned that there was something very difficult that I would write in this version of Black Mask & Pale Rider. It has something to do with a word, a very commonly known word which has a history of oppression. I have been debating over it’s use for some time, mostly because I don’t like it’s tone. So, I went and asked someone about whether it was good to use or not. She, who used to be on tumblr as squee-to-the-gee, said as long as it’s conveyed how Shani hears the word, and her reaction, then it’s fine. It’s true, literature shouldn’t just entertain, but it should also teach. And it was, is my hope that the word is found to be as vile now as I am hoping to make it. For critique I present the scene here for everyone. Comments are most welcome, especially considering how the word in used.
To those that are unclear, it’s the N-word.
Shani strode down the street in her usual way; slow and steady steps, her eyes watching everyone. It felt different, wearing these denim slacks and the leather boots complete with the long coat that might have seemed a bit too warm for the weather during summer. She took note of the passersby who stared in her direction, knowing they weren’t just looking at her, but to the tiny dragon that perched upon her shoulder. Scales seemed happy and content, his tiny claws gripping to the leather of her long coat. He was her second eyes, as he would watch what she couldn’t see, often nuzzling his head against Shani’s cheek in a manner that would draw her attention to what Scales would see, but also in a way that showed affection. Scales liked her, to him she was like his mother. And as Shani protected him, he would protect her.
Such as he was doing now.
For the most part, Shani found the people of this world odd, different, but not necessarily threatening. Oh, to be certain, they were no more threatening, but Shani had revealed she was able to pay for certain things, and she could do work, so her reputation within this town called Carrollton was not one of a negative nature. However, she had shown she held gold, and to many, that was like a fly to honey. It would always draw the worst.
As Shani looked for supplies, going from shop to shop, buying what she needed from a list that Clayton had given her, she was aware that she was being followed. Four young men, all of whom looked surly and rough, she assumed they had been on the trail for a while, that they had lived a life of violence. But she also felt they would not do anything while she was engaged in matters of commerce. For the most part, she was right. They left her alone, looking idly over items that the different merchants and vendors had for sale.
In a way, it was no different than the markets back in Stonebridge where Shani grew up. Granted, there were a lot less elves who carried pistols. To be honest, none carried pistols. There were flintlocks, but not the weapons that Shani carried now. As she made her purchases, she thought of the differences between this world and her own, wondering if the other lands were as diverse as on her own home world.
She finished her purchases, gatheirng everything that had been on Clayton’s list, filling everything into a ruck sack, and slinging it onto her shoulder. It was time to head out of town, which meant she had to find her horse at the stable where she left him, pay the owner for his care, and ride back to Clayton’s cabin just out of town.
As she approached the stables, she realized that the men who had been following her, had doubled back. They were already at the stables, and they had Gippsum, her faithful mount, out of his stall. She stopped and watched the four men careful, gently letting her ruck sack down onto the ground at her feet. Scales dug in his claws into Shani’s long coat, his wings spreading a bit as he hissed toward the four men. He did not like them, and Shani felt the same.
“Howdy, boys,” Shani said in a congenial fashion as she tipped her hat. Best to be friendly, maybe they’d leave her be. ”Mighty nice o’ ya ta get my horse fer me.”
“Well, we just wanna be neighbourly,” one of the men said with a grin, his teeth grey and blackened from years of neglect. A surprise, seeing how he appeared to be no more than twenty years old. ”We are sorta like the welcomin’ committee in this here town.”
“Really,” Shani replied with a nod. ”I thought thet was the sherrif, as Clayton done tol’ me.”
“I wouldn’t trust nothin’ that nigger says,” one of the other men said in response. Shani looked to him, slightly younger than the first man who spoke. But there was malice in his eyes. Even Scales could see it, and he crawled along Shani’s shoulders to hiss at the man in question. Scales felt an uneasiness about him, as did Shani. But it was a word that the man said that truly set Shani on edge. ”Yer lizard is actin’ mighy queer,” the man noted as he seemed to back up a bit.
“Scales ain’t real trustin’ o’ strangers,” Shani informed him. ”An’ he ain’t a lizard. He’s a pseudo dragon.”
The four men laughed hearing the word. ”Dragon,” one of the others said aloud. ”I thought they were bigger ‘n thet little thing.”
“I said pseudo dragon,” Shani corrected him. ”But the nature o’ my friend here an’ the words ta describe him ain’t so much as what I’m really concerned with. Y’all used somethin’ which I believe ya use ta describe ‘nother friend o’ mine.” The four men just watched Shani for a moment, not really understanding what she meant. She sighed, but held a firm look in the direction of the man who first spoke. He seemed to be the leader of this small gang. ”I b’lieve the word ya used was ‘nigger’. An’ ta be honest, I don’t really like the tone in yer voice when ya use thet word. I know who ya meant when ya said it, an’ I have come ta know Clayton. He is a decent man, an’ I would vouch fer his character any day. An’ I do not like the way y’all address him.”
“He’s just a darkie who…” the first man was about to say, but stopped as he was suddenly staring at the business end of one of Shani’s Colts. They had heard about these guns, who they were constructed of a steel no one had ever seen before. And how this woman was able to wield them with such grace and ferocity. ”Hey now,” the man said as he held up his hands, worry starting to crease his brow. ”No need ta get twitchy.”
“Ya wanna see me git twitchy, then ya jist say ‘nother disparagin’ word ‘gainst my friend,” Shani replied through gritted teeth. Even Scales grew more bold, gripping his claws into Shani’s jacket, wings pressed against his back as his tail swished back and forth as though he were ready to pounce on his prey. ”I would take it as a kindness thet ya never use thet word ’round me ‘gain. Do I make myself clear?”
“You wouldn’t be able ta stop all o’ us,” one of the men said as he pointed to Shani’s pistol.
Shani said not a word as she stared the man down, watching him carefully. He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t have to, because Scales was watching someone else, and he gave a low growl in the back of his throat to warn Shani. She moved fast, drawing her second Colt and aiming without even looking. She fired and hit the mark perfectly, sending the would be assassin’s pistol flying from his hand. The action caused a stir, and the other gunmen reached for their pistols. The next few seconds were a blur of bullets and fire, but no shot came from the four gunmen at all. Shani, and to a point Scales, had disarmed them without breaking a sweat. The elven gunslinger had turned with each sound of a drawn pistol or the click of a hammer, and with lightning reflexes she fired at the sound. Scales puffed himself up and shot a breath of flame toward the would be gunmen, distracting them to give Shani the chance to act before they could fire. In a matter of seconds it was all over. The most important thing, no one was dead.
Shani walked up to the first man who spoke to her that afternoon. He lay on the ground, clutching his gunhand as blood ran down his wrist. Shani had fired straight through his palm. She stood over him and said in a voice that was filled with anger. ”Let this be a lesson ta you boys. Never think thet ya got a drop on someone smaller ‘n you. ’Cause I ain’t stupid, yer actions were ta rob me. I’ve taken down varmints ten times yer ability without breakin’ a sweat, so y’all ain’t nuthin’ in my eyes.” She adjusted her hat and walked to her horse as she continued to speak, this time to all four men. A crowd had gathered in the area, and was watching and listening. ”An’ I will take it as a kindness thet all o’ you boys don’t ever use thet word again. Ta anyone. I may be new ta this here world, but I ain’t stupid when it comes ta knowin’ the spite thet sits in a slur. I know words can cut jist as deep as any blade. So this here is yer warnin’ boys. I don’t take kindly ta slurs. An’ I don’t take kindly ta them bein’ used on my friends.”
Shani nudged Gippsum forward after she rose into the saddle, but she found she could only move a few feet as there were three more men impeding her path. These men, however, wore tin stars.
“Ma’am,” one of the men called out, one of the sherrif’s deputies. He wore his guns up to his waist, crossed so his opposite hand could grab from the opposite waist line, much like a swordsman would carry his blade on his left hip so his right hand could draw it. ”I am gonna have ta ask that you come with us.”
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Writing: A long plan ahead
The first book of Black Mask & Pale Rider was all the adventures of the two elven gunslingers in one long form story.
This time, however, it’s going to get longer. This is how I’ve planned it.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: A Tale of Six Gun & Sorcery
The tale of how Shani and Pania encountered this world in 1863 and how they became the feared gunslingers Black Mask & Pale Rider.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Road to Perdition
After joining forces, the two gunslingers encounter an old Pennsylvania Dutch community plagued by a vampire nest. But this nest has a connection to the two elves. Assisted by Deter Van Buren, the three go on the hunt for the vampire mistress.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: The Ghost Rider
In Franklin, West Virginia, Shani and Pania find the town has encountered an elf before, one who lived his last days in the town. That elf, and the sudden appearance of Shani and Pania in Franklin, draws a formidable opponent. They receive help from Marshal Martin Derringer, who has a dark secret of his own.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Don’t Let the Hag Ride Ya
Shani and Pania end up staying over in a small town near Charlotte, South Carolina. The town’s residents are plagued by something akin to a vampire, but much worse.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: High Noon
No magic or great evil, save for a rich cattleman who delights in his own brand of justice. Shani and Pania meet up with Johnathon Caleb Walker and the mysterious Chinese immigrant Ming and help them take down Dorval.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: The Dead Will Walk
Arriving in Shreveport, Louisiana, Shani makes the snap decision to buy a slave in order to give him his freedom. It turns out Ezekiel Morgan is a helping hand when Shani and Pania have to deal with plantation owner Jeremiah Kingston the Third.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Rise of the Lich King
While Shani and Pania have been making their way across the States, they’ve been watched from afar. A bounty is put on their heads, and the first to try and claim it is an old gunhand who found a way to cheat death. In Bloomington, Indiana, Shani and Pania meet up again with Aurela Dorchester and Slowhand Johnson.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Long Train A Comin’
Taking place entirely on a train as it travels from Gary, Indiana to Thief River Falls, Minnesota, Shani and Pania meet up with the Reverend Carter Stewart. The three soon find out that the vampire they met earlier in Pennsylvania doesn’t die easily.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Aces & Eights
Shani and Pania take a back seat in this tale, with their only showing coming in a vicious gun fight with Captain Samuel Williams who has been chasing after them. It’s feared Shani and Pania are dead, and Carter Stewart joins forces with Slowhand, Aurela, Derringer, Walker, Cassidy del Ray, Ming, van Buren and Morgan in order to find out what happened to them. It’s much more than they bargained for.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Eternity
Pania, injured from the gun battle by a demon spawn, is dragged to safety by Shani. But the lanky gunslinger can’t do much until they are found by hunters from Whitecap’s Dakota tribe not far away.
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Let the madness begin!
Well, at least let it begin tomorrow.
That madness will be thirty straight days in a month long marathon of worry, stressing, and writing. November is NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. I have my plan set, my novel is picked. I’ll be writing a sort of prequel to Black Mask & Pale Rider that leads into the events of the first book.
There’ll be new characters as Shani will meet Clayton “Slowhand” Johnson in this prequel. Pania will meet the women of Mistress Aurela Dorchester’s Boarding House for Girls and Women. Which also happens to be a front for a brothel. Shani starts the journey in Carrollton, Arkansas. Pania, in Chicago, Illinois. The explanation of cold iron affecting elves and how the two elven gunslingers can suddenly use such weapons will be revealed (hint, elven steel). As well, Shani and Pania will have constant companions that will be revealed. A wood pixie named Verit will always be at Pania’s side, and a pseudo dragon named Scales will never be far from Shani.
Sadly, I’m not going to post progression on the blog this year as I’ve done in years past. I’m going to keep everything a relative secret until it’s first draft is complete.
Guns, rapiers, magic. Let the tale of six gun and sorcery truly begin.
Tomorrow, that is.
A pirate tale
Yarrrrr! Just in time fer International Talk Like A Pirate Day, here’s a story dug up from the years (last year, actually) starrin’ Black Mask ‘n Pale Rider.
Now in handy pdf format for easy downloading and reading.
Black Mask & Pale Rider: How I Wish I Were In Sherbrooke Now
I’ll eventually collect all of the short stories written for the two elven gunslingers and collect them together in a Tales of Terra-Kal.
Shameless self promotion with a bit of “huh?”
Cruising different online book sellers, I found something cool. Both my books are being carried through Amazon. Well, sort of.
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
But Amazon.ca seems to only have Canyons of Steel, and doesn’t even have the price set for it yet.
And to my surprise, Barnes & Noble has the Nook version of Black Mask & Pale Rider available.
But, no version of Canyons of Steel for the Nook. No search at Indigo/Chapters brought up either book, which is kind of depressing considering no Canadian online book sellers carry either one. Ya know, considering I’m a Canadian.
However, if you or anyone you know hasn’t picked up a copy of the book, here’s helpful links to find online sellers.
Oh, and also…
It’s available on iTunes! Black Mask & Pale Rider
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