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  1. Here's a little ( completely unedited ) snippet from the first draft of Ch. 01 of "One Whore's Town". I'm not sure how long it will take to finish it, but the second chapter is already up to a couple thousand words, and moving along nicely. =================== Betty checked her figures one last time. It had been a good night at Alice’s Kip. The new girl had certainly attracted some attention. She’d worked the whole night. Betty suspected that the poor girl would be walking bowlegged after that marathon. She was trying to prove herself, but she might have overdone it a bit. The other eleven girls had done brisk business as well. It was a far cry from five years earlier, when she, Alice, and Cammie had arrived on their brave venture to Windsholme – which they’d nicknamed Stingy Pussy at the time. Cammie still took on a few men and the occasional woman who came in looking for sport, but Betty and Alice hadn’t made their living with their legs in the air on the regular for a couple of years. Their clothing was more often stained with ink than cum. The old Kip was now their private residence and office space. The new Kip was a beautiful two story house with eight rooms that had real plastered walls, so men didn’t have to listen to fellas rutting in the next room. Betty was rather proud that their brothel was nicer than the Cat – where they’d first plied their trade – and even rivaled some in Fightershaven. It was only half their business. Lots of girls with few options had shown up over the years, and not all of them were cut out for whoring. At first, Alice had put them to work cooking and cleaning for the working girls. Some of those girls were fine cooks, and many were pretty enough to ply their bodies, but simply didn’t have the temperament. Inspiration had struck one evening as the three friends recalled the harrowing journey that had set them on the path of independence. The assassins who had been paid to kidnap and murder them – out of revenge for a powerful man’s bruised ego – had used an eatery as a front for their hideout. Betty had suggested that they open one, having the girls cook and serve. It was Alice’s stroke of genius that made all the difference, though. During the day, the serving girls were dressed conservatively – though their dresses still emphasized their curves and legs. At night, those same girls wore gauzy gowns with deep necklines, short hemlines, and slits up to the hip. Heaven’s Table did brisk business with men who were more keen to look than touch, for whatever reason. The food and wine were good enough to attract travelers even without the display of female flesh. It was Cammie’s idea to only serve wine, so as not to compete with and anger the local tavern keeper. Betty didn’t need to do the sums for the Heaven, because Hannah took care of it. She had been the first to join the three friends in the brothel, and had proved she had skills other than humping in time. After only a brief stint taking care of the day to day operations at the eatery, it was obvious she should be running things fully and permanently. The increase in travelers – and thus coin – had earned the block of buildings at the edge of town and the people who occupied them a measure of acceptance. One other highly unusual factor had contributed to their success. As the Heaven attracted travelers, they decided to turn away local husbands and boyfriends, and instead counsel them in ways to entice their women to spread their legs with sweet, unexpected gestures. The local women no longer glared at them as if about to form a torch-wielding mob, and some were even friendly. With the sums finished for both establishments, Betty calculated her cut of the profits, added it to her tally, and smiled as she closed the books. She’d finally reached her goal. Alice looked up from the letter she was reading when she heard the heavy, leather cover thump shut. “You’re done already?” “Mmm hmm. Good day at the Kip and the Heaven.” “Don’t know how you do it,” Alice said, giving a shake of her head, and then a chuckle. “I want to pull my hair out within a couple of minutes of looking at those books.” “I enjoy it a little. Having everything come up right is satisfying. Besides, Hannah does half the work.” Alice nodded. “You know, I think we may need to cut her in on things instead of just paying her a salary. She’s too good to lose already, and she’s getting more savvy every day.” “Sounds right to me. Ask Cammie when she wakes up tonight. You should probably start pushing Cammie to do a little more on this end of things, if she ever wants to strike out on her own too.” “Too?” Alice lifted her eyebrows and asked, “So, you’re ready to set up your own place?” She hadn’t actually meant to let the news slip that very moment, but since the cat was out of the bag, Betty answered, “I’ve saved up what I think I’ll need, and I have an idea of where I could go.” “Good for you!” Alice said as she stood and crossed the well-worn wooden floor to her friend’s desk. She leaned down and hugged her. “So, where were you thinking?” “There’s a town about two days from here to the east called Hard Creek. Barely more than a farming village, but it’s not far from where one of Pompeil’s men says is going to be a major trade route soon. There’s apparently some kind of melon they grow out toward the coast that’s becoming popular in the cities.” Pompeil Harrold was a merchant of significant wealth and renown from Freeland, who had been caught up in the kidnaping plot because he was visiting the brothel when it happened. He recommended that his men seek out the services of the network of brothels the Kip was connected to, as part of the debt he felt he owed to those who had helped him escape that nightmare unscathed. “Pomp doesn’t seem to be wrong very often. Sounds like a good idea,” Alice agreed. “Get in and established before things kick up.” “That’s what I was thinking. I thought I might go there and have a look-see, though.” “And borrow a couple of girls to see how stingy the women are with the pussy around there?” Alice asked – knowingly. “I was thinking about Jan and Lana.” Alice pursed her lips and nodded. The two girls had been working long enough for the new to wear off, but not yet long enough to have a large regular clientele. Being new again in a different place would be good for them, and for profits. “I think they might actually enjoy a change of scenery.” “And Ghent, to watch over us?” Betty asked. A crooked grin spread across the blonde madame’s face. “You’re sweet on him.” Betty rolled her eyes. “Last I noticed, nobody’s been sleeping in your bed here for weeks.” Alice actually blushed. Olan was an older widower who had built the most recent house on the block for the girls working the Heaven, when the existing accommodations had grown crowded. Something had sparked between them during that time, and he’d asked her to step out with him. Eventually, she’d started spending the night at his place, and that had evolved to practically living there. “He’s good for you, I think,” Betty said. Alice gave a dainty shrug and said, “He’s good to me. And he’s funny. He makes me laugh so hard I can’t breathe sometimes.” “Ghent too,” Betty admitted. She shook her head and chuckled. “Listen to us. Two old whores acting like smitten little girls.” “May as well enjoy it while it lasts. Take him with you. The girls too. You can use one of the wagons, and take whatever you need. When?” Betty considered the preparations she would need to make and suggested, “A week?” “That will give me some time to get used to the idea of dealing with these for a while,” Alice said, and then saluted the leather-bound ledgers with a raised middle finger.
  2. A preview of the beginning of "Gates of Enchantment" ( completely unedited ) which contains the first of many, many Easter eggs for other stories, and ends on the beginning of another. Feel free to point out the Easter Egg if you know it =================== Darkniciad stood outside what would soon be a school of magic for those of lesser means. He shook the hand of the wizard who had built it, after spending several days with him. “I must thank you for your hospitality,” Darkni said. The older man – about the same age as Darkniciad’s father – responded, “No. No. It is I who must thank you. The advice you have provided will do much to advance my dream.” Darkni countered, “As the spells you have taught me have done much to advance my own studies.” They both chuckled as they unclasped hands. The older man said, “It seems we are at a stalemate in this contest of gratitude.” “Ah, but there must always be a victor. To that end...” Darkni reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder, and withdrew a silken pouch that clinked with the unmistakable sound of coin. He held it out to the other wizard. “Please, I cannot accept such a generous gift,” the other wizard said. “But you will,” Darkni said, pressing the pouch into the other man’s hand. “It will accomplish much more in your purse than in mine.” “I...” Darkniciad waved his hand and said, “I will not take no for an answer. Use it well, that I may find your school thriving, when next I pass this way to share discoveries in the Art with you.” The other wizard weighed the pouch in his hand and said, “I suspect that even were I to refuse, this pouch would somehow find its way here again.” “Most astutely observed.” Darkni clapped his hands, and said, “And so, this contest is concluded.” “Though which is the victor? The giver or the receiver?” “A victory for us both, I would say. Fare thee well.” “The gods speed you on your journey,” the elder wizard said. “And you to your dream.” With that, Darkniciad turned and took the first step on that renewed journey. He walked down the narrow, tree-lined road, enjoying the morning air and the songs of birds. It had taken a year, but finally, he had found and properly trained those who would take up his duties within his father’s business. And so, he was free to pursue his study of the Art. The discovery of the fledgling school and its master was but the latest taste of the welcoming nature this land had for one of his chosen path. His steps now carried him to Destindale, the heart of magical studies within the Protectorates of Armand. Though he would enter light of purse, after the gift to the school, that should be easy to remedy. A city the size of Destindale would certainly have messengers who could deliver a letter requesting more coin from his account at home, and counting houses to make good on the returned letter of credit. There might even be one with magical means to expedite the process. What coin he retained would be sufficient to see him through a week, so long as he sought out reasonably priced accommodations. Daydreams about what he would find in the city carried him through the miles. He had heard of two schools of magic, shops that catered to those who practiced the Art, and common folk who appreciated the benefits of magic, rather than fearing it. He was so caught up in his musings that he nearly missed the sound that brought him up short – a feminine whimper, rapidly stifled.
  3. Thought I'd post a topic about this, and the progress that's being made toward bridging the gap in "Nobles by Deed" there's always been a big old hole in the middle of the timeline there. There's a group of stories taking place early in the life of the characters, and then a group of stories after they've freed Egoria. I feel that the early stories for all the characters need to be told, in order to fill in that gap. One trilogy with Darkni is already in progress, beginning with "Facing Destiny". The second story in that trilogy "Gates of Enchantment" is in progress now. The third story is called "Something Familiar". Those early Darkni stories ( taking place a few years earlier than the other Nobles history, because Darkni is the oldest of the companions ) contain a great deal of world history, as well as Darkni's. "Facing Destiny" fleshes out the origins of the Great Crater, where Fightershaven is situated. "Gates of Enchantment" is delving into the history of the Protectorates of Armand, where Danica and Devan are from. Lots of Easter Eggs for the Arts Ardane stories in "Gates of Enchantment". "Something Familiar" will take place in the Western Baronies, where Zoraster is from and "The Forge" resides. That trilogy sets up Darkni for a story where he teams up with Mindblind. Simultaneously, there's a new Thakkor and Alicia story that's going to happen. Those two stories will end in the same taproom of the same inn, and are the launching pad for "Rage of a Goblin King" ( Still a working title, but one that's seriously growing on me, despite it being only one word off from a Raymond E. Feist title ) Rage is where most of the companions first meet and team up to free Normandal from the grip of a goblin infestation. The lessons they've learned and the forces they've gathered push them toward a grander, and more dangerous quest — facing down the forces of Draxnog to free Egoria from his talons. Once I tell that story, the bridge is complete. "King Thakkorias" takes place shortly after the freeing of Egoria. I still need to flesh out the other companions with history, though. Saggitariad has appeared in only the briefest cameos within Danica and SOTM. Vladamir only brief cameos in "Lowborn", Danica, SOTM, and Blackhawk Hall, though I do establish a critical element or two of him there. I believe I've nailed down the early history story for both of them. Those then need to be followed up with "Growth" stories that push them closer to where they are at the time of Rage. I'll likely write a history story for Saj's wife Carol Darkholme as well. Darkni's wife is covered in Rage. Then there's a later story after the freeing of Egoria, taking place even earlier than "King Thakkorias" about Saj and his wife called "A Thief N' the Knight". It takes place as they're journeying from the capital to take over as Duke and Duchess. There's another Arts Ardane story as well. Prior to Rage, Devan is the first of the Ardane sisters to meet Zoraster. Just thought I'd post this up, so everyone knows that there is a plan to bridge that gap. It won't come quickly, as anyone who follows me knows, but it is creeping that way. I'm constantly opening SOTM and trying to get back into the right frame of mind to continue that story as well.
  4. Are you ready for some weird sex? LOL The second story in my new series "The Ancient Peoples" is only a final text-to-audio listen away from going gold, so I thought I'd post a preview. This is a direct sequel to "Serpentine Destiny" with the same main character, Aris. Though there's a general recap, allowing this story to stand alone, you'll have a much richer experience if you've read the previous story. As I've mentioned in other threads, I consider this series to be loosely connected, and inhabiting the same universe as both my Magic of the Wood series, and my new Fey Folk series. Fairies have shown up in Magic of the Wood. Nymphs are mentioned in Serpentine Destiny. Though they'll likely never directly cross-over, they are part of the same universe. That said, here's a brief preview: =============================== Aris awakened in near pitch blackness. Confused at first by the unfamiliar surroundings, it took him a moment to get his bearings. It was then that he realized what had awakened him. The ring on his finger had grown warm, and was subtly vibrating. He fumbled about in the darkness, located his phone, and tapped the screen to see it was after two a.m. As the screen dimmed, he heard something. The song was beautiful, but haunting, and coming from the direction of Cade and Tabor’s camp. As he listened and wondered, a thought suddenly popped into his head, and he knew it had arisen from the magical ring. Harpies. The song was the song of a Harpy, and his ring was protecting him from its beckoning, charming call. It was also warning him without words not to approach. He was fearful for the two men in the other camp, but if any of the legends were true, there would be little he could do, should he choose to try to help them. The song faded, and his stomach went sour. A dozen grisly possibilities of what could be happening down the trail flitted through his head. He slipped out of his confining sleeping bag, but remained in his tent. After a few minutes, an altogether different sound reached his ears. The moans, whimpers, grunts, and groans could have been something else, but Aris somehow knew they were the sounds of sex. The sounds grew louder, more frequent, and then were punctuated by a series of screeches and primal growls. Afterward, there was silence for a time. Aris slowly and quietly unzipped his tent, and then peeked out in the direction of the other camp. He could see and hear nothing, though his ring remained warm and continued to signal a warning. The heat and warning sensation both increased suddenly. The Harpies had noticed him, and they were approaching. Something told him that the creatures feared fire. He should build up his fire and remain near it. He scrambled from the tent, found his wood pile, and blew on the coals remaining in the fire pit. A sigh of relief escaped him when the fire began to crackle, catching the larger pieces of wood. Not a second too soon. He caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. It was little more than a brief vanishing of the stars in the sky above, but it was there. He heard the beating of huge wings, and saw another indistinct, shadowy figure swoop overhead. Aris watched the sky, stirred the fire, and added more wood. A whoosh of air passing over wings sounded – much closer – followed by the sound of something landing on the pine needles and twigs. Aris quickly turned toward the sound, and saw them. The creatures had human female torsos and heads – their small, firm, teardrop shaped breasts bared. Their skin tone was a dark, almost nutty brown. Their lips and nipples were even darker, though with a tinge of red. Their golden eyes reflected the firelight, detracting somewhat from the undeniable beauty of their faces. The one had a long mane of gray hair, though he had a sense it was not the gray of age. The other sported equally long tresses of mixed brown and white strands. What looked like human arms ended at the elbow, replaced by wings. The gray-haired Harpy’s wings were reddish brown on top, but gray and black spotted on the underside. The other had wings with brown tops, and undersides decorated with brown and white spots. Aris thought there had to be magic involved in their ability to fly, because their wings – though impressive – did not seem large enough to actually hold them aloft. Both sported a fan-shaped tail, colored in similar patterns to their wings. Below their absent navels, feathers covered them. From the knees up, these feathers were small, and fluttered in the slight breeze as though downy. At the knee, the feathers grew larger, and stiffer, creating a fringe. At about mid-shin, the feathers vanished, replaced by the scaly, three-toed feet of a bird, with impressive black talons.
  5. Here's a brief, unedited preview of "Facing Destiny", which takes place when Darkni is about 20 years old. ====================================== The inn where the workmen of his father’s business were staying was a far cry from the well-appointed one where his own rooms were. The smell of cheap pipe weed and stale sweat lingered beneath the aroma of whatever was cooking for the evening. Through the dim lighting and haze of smoke, he spotted Ernest sitting at a corner table and crossed the creaking floor boards to join him. The man was one of his father’s wagon drivers, and was only rarely pressed into other service while on a business trip, freeing up his time. Darkni sat down, doing his best to drop the cultured tongue to which he had grown accustomed for the benefit of his more plainspoken conspirator. “Any luck?” he asked. “Yep,” Ernest answered. He then nodded toward the bar. “You’ll need to order something. I can already see the bartender giving you the evil eye.” “We can’t have that, can we?” Darkni turned and signaled a barmaid. He thought that she must have been quite pretty before hard work and long hours had hardened her. She was still curvy and attractive, but the bloom was certainly off the rose. From the crude words and gestures of the other patrons as she passed, it appeared the clientele still found her fetching. “What can I get you?” she asked with a thoroughly false tone and even falser smile of congeniality. Darkni pulled a silver coin from his purse and saw her eyes widen. “Bring me a cup of your finest wine, and you may keep what remains for yourself.” “Our finest isn’t all that good,” she warned. A flirtatious note crept into her voice when she added, “I can make sure the bartender doesn’t water it down and puts it in a clean cup for you, though.” “That will do,” he said as he held up the coin for her to take. She did so, making sure to let her fingers brush his. A genuine – if somewhat calculating – smile decorated her face as she turned and strutted back toward the bar with her hips swaying. “If you want to bed her, you just bought her,” Ernest said. “She won’t see that much from the whole of this lot all night. Might steal your purse while you’re all knackered, though.” He took a long look at her behind and said, “Think it would be worth it.” Darkniciad chuckled. “My father would faint if I even thought about it.” “True that.” “The shop?” Darkni enquired. Ernest tore his eyes away from the barmaid. “Place didn’t even have a sign. I asked about those herbs, and when he had those, I asked about the others. He got a bit antsy then, but I slipped him that coin you gave me and he brightened right up. Said he had a book, too.” The workman gave the slightest of nods, indicating that someone was approaching. Darkni glanced that way and saw the barmaid carrying his cup. “Here you are,” she said as she sat the cup down and stood in such a way as to display her womanly charms quite prominently. “Fresh bottle, only opened a few minutes ago. Just long enough for it to breathe.” “You know your craft. I thank you, my dear,” Darkni said as he lifted his cup. He took a sip, and while it was a relatively poor wine compared to his usual fare, it was passable. “This will do nicely.” She batted her eyelashes at him and said, “If you need anything, just ask for Milli.” “I will keep that in mind, Milli.” Once again she strutted as she left the table. Ernest let out a quiet whistle once she was out of hearing range. “Yep,” he said, “She’s yours for the askin’. Anyway, he had a book, and he let me see it. It was like you said to look for. The words almost looked like they were crawling on the page. Made my head hurt.” Darkniciad sat up a little straighter and leaned in at the description. “It had about fifty pages, and they all had that writing on them. There was some regular writing here and there, but I couldn’t make much more sense out of it than the spidery stuff. A little bigger than the size of your hand.” It had all the hallmarks of a traveling spellbook, and the number of pages presented a good probability of spells that were new to his studies. Darkni asked, “Was he willing to allow me to visit at such a late hour?” “He didn’t seem happy about it, but he said yes, so long as he knows you’re coming beforehand.” “Then let him know I will be there this evening. I should go and be seen somewhere my father expects me,” Darkniciad said as he pushed his chair back. “You’re going to break her heart,” his conspirator said, and then chuckled. “Well then,” Darkni said, and fished into his purse. He retrieved a coin of the same size as the one he’d given to the barmaid and pushed it to Ernest. “When you return, you could test your theory about the value of that coin in her eyes. You’ve certainly earned it.” He picked up the coin. “Doubt it’s worth half as much in my grubby fingers, but it might be worth just enough.” “Good luck.” With that, Darkni took his leave. As he moved toward the door, he noticed that Ernest’s prediction was bearing fruit. The barmaid’s shoulders slumped at the sight of him leaving. He felt a stirring in his loins as he considered that his conspirator’s other suggestion might also be true and he could bed the woman if he would only stay and let her take him home. But, if his father learned of such a liaison, it would jeopardize something far more important. He would almost certainly be left tending the business at home during these trips, rather than having the opportunity to seek out new magic. With just such a possibility on the horizon, he suppressed the swell of ardor with planning. There was much of that to be done.
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