World Building

And so the Dyken were chosen over the Elves by the enlightened elder races to join them in the celestial heavens. The Elves would never forget this slight, now only seeking to eradicate the Dyken’s finest creation…humans. –The Prophet of Dust, Jurgen Cromwell.

Humanity struggled to rediscover it’s self. The wonders of the Dyken littered the world. Technology far advanced beyond the reasoning of the primitive human mind. The elder race’s departure caused the world to be buried in dust and storm that lasted nearly a century. The light of human existence dimmed, yet they persevered through the hardship. The humans were forced to take refuge under the earth or upon the highest peaks of the known world.

The humans endured constant attacks by the races created by the Elves. Short and powerful creatures that resembled humans slightly; a mockery of man called Dwarves. Unrelenting monsters of gray skin and murderous appetite called Ol-Gra that roamed the dusty wastelands of the world in search of human settlements. Numerous other species dotted the lands, created and forgotten by the elder races. Left to their own designs both animal and calculating.

The Dyken had formed humans into a caste system, hundreds to thousands; each caste with it’s own purpose and unique talents. After the Dyken’s exodus and the threat of extermination by the Elves the caste system fell apart. Castes were forced to mix and interbreed to survive. The unique talents the humans once possessed as a blessing by the elder race faltered. Occasionally the talent would emerge in a human born and seen as a sign that the Dyken still watched over humanity.

Once the dust and ash had settled humanity began to explore the world anew. History was jagged and often times had to be handed down by oral tradition. Much was forgotten by misunderstanding, or untimely death of the oral historians. Human knowledge of their own origins changed, and the Dyken took on the role of gods. Speaking of the Dyken in any other role became heresy.

The technology of the elder races could not be replicated save for the most primitive of constructs. Simple mechanics and steam power seemed to be as far as the humans could reach for the time being. Slowly and surely the world grew populated by man, discovering other lands and other humans that had survived the once dust choked world.

Leaders of men began to carve out great swaths of territory, forming kingdoms and resettling the lands. Forgotten cities were repopulated and the land settled. In the center of the reformed lands lay the Feista, the crowning jewel of the human world.

The capital of Feista rested upon a plateau, its towering ivory spires reaching towards the heavens, surrounded by ancient walls of metal and stone. Great iron beams spilled over the sides of the plateau, hugging the stone and plunged into the earth below. The capital was called Strider City, for legend spoke of how the city used to walk the land…

Terry 3

*** Warning Mature themes and shady antics are included. ***

Excerpt from Obsolete, a Terry Ford novel.  Under construction

Joey Cane considered the 8-ball of blue glittering powder in the glass vial before him. The pimp had purchased the strange substance for a thousand dollars, which was outrageous in price but somehow the man convinced him. Joey was told it would ramp his girls up to work all night and well into the next day. According to the man you could snort it, shoot it, smoke it, or even outright eat it. Suspicious still Joey had informed the man if the stuff was ‘bunk’ he would hunt down the throwback to the 70’s and ‘ace’ him.

The pimp frowned, recalling the man showed not the slightest concern to the threat, and even more concerning Joey had trouble remembering what the man looked like. A white disco outfit, black tie, platform shoes? Or was it sandals? Shaking his head Joey gave up and chose to get down to business, he would have to test it out on someone. Leaning forward on the couch Joey, opened the glass vial, a sharp scent of sweet cheese overpowered the heavy cigarette smell that caked the cramped hotel room he operated out of.

Tapping a bit of the powder out on the glass table top Joey carved the powder into a line with an obsolete sheriff’s card for food handling. ‘A little dab will do you.’ Joey remembered the instructions from the man. Fuck that, go big or go home. That was Joey’s motto. The pimp poured more onto the table top, turning the line of powder into a rail. Joey stopped himself cold as he found he was raising the card to his lips to lick off the residue. Drug users instinct…

Joey’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. The pimp’s hand went to his Walter PPK, as he rushed to the door, peering out the peephole. Sighing upon seeing who waited outside the door, he undid the latch allowing the person in. It was only Little Bo, one of his girls.

Little Bo was the first girl he took into his stable from what seemed like ancient history. Joey kept her on despite her lack of turning tricks in the last few years. Back in the day she could bring in almost two grand a night, six days a week. Divorced, and addicted to meth, she felt she had no other use than to be a prostitute. Now days, she could score a few hundred in a pair of weeks. Still, Joey kept her on as a sentiment if nothing else.

Little Bo hung her head, and Joey rolled his eyes. ‘Here comes the excuse’, Joey thought. Bo always had one, an inexhaustible plethora of circumstances that barred her from earning her keep. Little Bo began to mumble something. Scratching at her scarred arms, her ratty blonde hair looked brittle and fragile. Joey really wasn’t listening; he had heard it all before. Glancing at the table with the powder upon it; the dust seemed to beckon to be used. Half squinting the pimp mentally shrugged, why not?

Patting Bo on the shoulder, his smile was no where near sincere. “It’s ok, Bo. Hey I got something for you, a little pick me up.”

Bo wiped at her nearly jaundice yellowed eyes, as Joey guided her to sit at the couch in front of the table. Bo babbled on about how much she loved working for Joey and how good he was to her. ‘Whatever’, Joey thought. ‘Just snort the shit.’

Passing Bo a cut straw, Joey laced an arm over her shoulder. Answering the silent humiliated look she gave him, “It’s ok. It is all yours, Little Bo. I hear this is good stuff.”

Wiping her nose to clear it, Bo leaned down, placing the straw to the end of the rail, and began to inhale. She made it half way down the line of the drug before she wrenched her head back, coughing. Immediately she began to shake, cold sweat rocketing from every pore. Gasping for air, Bo’s back arched as the convulsions became more severe. Joey pushed the glass table away with his foot; users instinct once again coming into play. Preserve the drugs at all costs.

Joey winced getting off the couch with a half leap feeling as if he had been shocked. The pimp attempted to stop Bo from hurting herself, his hand grabbing for her shoulder only to receive another shock, this time stronger. Rubbing his numb hand he could only watch as Bo thrashed. What the hell was this shit!

Bo gave one last limb splayed gasp, eyes wide, and rolled off the couch face down on the floor. Joey’s heart felt as if was going to explode. Now he had a dead prostitute in his room, his headquarters, his little nook of the world. Shock leaded his movement as he gingerly crept over to Bo’s still form. Swallowing hard, Joey shook Bo gently. “Bo?” the pimp croaked, not wanting to be shocked again.

Bo was breathing in shallow rasps, much to Joey’s relief. ‘She wasn’t dead, just overdosed.’ Joey reasoned.

Carefully turning Bo over the pimp nearly leapt back again at the sight before him. Bo’s hair spilled over her shoulders, shining in the poor light of the hotel room. The prostitute’s wrinkled visage cleared up, growing taunt peeling away years of drug abuse and harsh sun exposure. Chapped lips smoothed, blemishes disappearing before Joey’s eyes. Bo took a deep breath her chest having filled out in the form of someone twenty years her junior. Seductively curved legs attached to a stunningly enticing rear greeted Joey as Bo rolled onto her side.

Bo’s eyes opened to slits, she smiled and stretched with a half hearted moan. “That was some good shit.”

Joey looked to the vial lying on its side on the glass coffee table, then back to the prostitute. “Yeah…that is some world rocking shit. How do you feel?” The pimp’s mind reeled, slowly working his way through the shock and piecing together what happened. Huge chunks were missing from the equation.

Bo tore Joey away from his thoughts; her eyes glittered with hunger as she answered. “I feel like I need to go to work. Now. Right now.”
Joey half laughed, nervously. “Uh…oh..ok..you do that.”

Bo fixed her gaze upon the pimp, clawing her way up his body as he backed into the cushions of the couch. Joey fumbled for his cellphone, pressing speed dial his eyes bulging as he felt the belt of his pants being undone. Speaking quickly into the phone, Joey stammered. “Get all the girls back to the room, I got something new for you all. Hurry and fucking hurry!”

Bo gracefully took the phone from the pimp, snapping it shut and tossing it on the floor before having her way with her employer.

Empire 16

Excerpt from Empire Movers, Wild Hunt by English Bob.

“Do it again!” Reiner said to Hesh, his smile wide and foolish.

Hesh shrugged and held out his pawed fingers to Reiner’s open palms. Hesh feinted to slap the top of the Sidhe’s hand. Reiner grinned, “Can’t fool” Hesh’s tail whipped up and slapped the Sidhe’s out stretched hands with a loud thwack.

Reiner laughed, rubbing the sting from his hands, “That wasn’t fair! You cheated! No tails allowed!”

Jarvis paced back and forth, eye riveted to the clock. Growling towards Reiner and Hesh, “Will you two knock it off?” Smelling the cowed scents in the air, Jarvis hastily loosened his neck tie, feeling his anger swelling again. Hawg looked up from his book, watching the tiger fey pace a few seconds before speaking, “We should get started.”

Jarvis stopped a split second considering the words before brushing them off and he resumed his pacing. “We wait for Ching.”

Hesh took the tip of his tail and crammed it up a nostril before standing behind Reiner and speaking, “We could fill her in when she gets here. Hawg’s right we need to begin.”

Jarvis battled with the denial this was even happening at all, taking silent relief that his companions supported him even in crisis. Still pacing Jarvis’s tail whipped out in agitation.

“Fine. We will begin. Everyone knows that lottery was rigged. They made Marie the subject of the wild hunt. Why? What purpose does it serve? Surely they understand the position they have just put us in, including themselves.” Jarvis said, nearly spitting.

Hawg followed Jarvis’s movements with his eyes, reclining on one of the numerous couches in the warehouse. The boar stretched and stifled a yawn, “The reasons why shouldn’t matter. It’s Marie, we defend her.” Hawg said running a paw along his tusks.

Hesh made motion for silence as Reiner opened his mouth to speak. The mouse fey, dared a step closer to the pacing Jarvis. “No. Actually Jarvis is mostly right. He should question the purpose. We have sat out how many Wild Hunts?” Said Hesh.

Hesh began to pace in the opposite pattern of Jarvis. The tiger fey paused again, and said “Fifteen. Ever since Marie was born.”

Hesh nodded and began to pace around Jarvis, pawed hand under his mouse chin. “Fifteen years we have let the crown just pass on by. Greyson wouldn’t ruin a good thing by purposely an-an-tag- an…”

“Antagonizing” Jarvis said, correcting Hesh.

Snapping his pawed fingers Hesh nodded still pacing, “Right. Greyson wouldn’t do that. This has to do with the queen; her hand is all over this like flies on rice.” Hesh said.

“That is white on rice. Not flies on rice.” Sighing Jarvis corrected his friend again.

Hawg snorted a sign he was amused, Hesh waved a hand, “Stop trying to change the subject. Point is we can sit this one out too, let Marie get killed or worse. Or…” Hesh dared a look up at Jarvis, the mouse’s beady eyes reflecting with unseen fire. “We do the hunt and keep her safe from them. For three days.”

Jarvis, felt his resolve wave slightly, “We would have to inform the courts of our intent. I loathe talking to Greyson on the phone.” Jarvis said reaching into his suit coat for his cellphone.

Jarvis found his arm barred from withdrawing by Hawg’s hand upon the tiger’s elbow. Looking to the boar Jarvis squinted as Hawg shook his head and spoke softly. “We don’t have to inform them by word. Deed is enough. Surprise might be the only chance we have.”

Jarvis nodded, “Then it is agreed. We stay here until dawn, and fetch Marie. Agreed?”

Hawg snorted his agreement, Hesh slapped Jarvis on the hip, and said. “I’m in…er. Agreed.”

“Agreed.” Said Ching from the door frame, causing the others to turn and gaze upon her. Hesh and Hawg rushed to her side as she wavered on her feet, Jarvis began to follow when Reiner spoke finally.

“Can I agree too?” Reiner said with a hopeful expression.

Jarvis turned towards the Sidhe, studying the fey. A slender sinister smile sprung to the tiger’s maw. “No. But you can do something for me. I want you to watch everything I do, and I mean everything, leave no detail unobserved.”

Reiner smiled his eyes wide and eager to please and said with sure conviction and enthusiasm. “I will do this. You can count on me!”

Jarvis smirked, “Perfect. You start now.”

************ *********** ********** ********** *********** *********** ****

Marie frowned at the computer screen, her chat box blinked with numerous messages. She found herself curious to meet T-Heart but he was pushing for the encounter a bit more than she liked. Marie tried to be catty; the response from T-Heart was suddenly urging and nearly desperate. Insecurities were not very attractive to her and so she let the chat window go, refraining herself from responding. Still the itch to peek at the messages rose; balling her fist Marie stopped herself. If she checked them T-Heart would know she read them.

The hour was growing late, yet Marie felt wide awake as if some weight of excitement had settled upon her. It made her nervous, so she turned to her comforts. A wide bed on which she plummeted, rolling languidly upon it. Her hand brushed upon an old leather binder, a photo album, which she picked up.

Chewing her lip Marie opened the album looking through the pages. She looked upon it for many reasons, mainly to get an understanding of what other people saw when they looked upon Jarvis and the others. Cameras did not reveal the fey’s true nature. Marie paused on her last birthday when all four were present, she had turned fifteen the four gathered around Marie and her cake, all looking to blow out the candles with goofy expressions, save for Jarvis.

Jarvis looked the same in every picture, tall, with salt and pepper hair. In every frame Jarvis was dressed to impress in suits, perfectly straight tie, business like stature, as if he was some undiscovered G.Q. model. Marie giggled, knowing full well he was not always business like, though these days he had enhanced the image even around her. She missed the days she would catch him sniffing a bag full of catnip, or lured in by a ball of string. For an uncle Marie did not know much about him. The feeling left her a little sour. She was aware he was a soldier of sorts, taming the land for the fey to take hold in Reno. Even in the pictures of him around Marie he held a suppressed predatory nature, something itching to get out.

Terry 2

Excerpt from the novel Obsolete.

Terry tried to drive casual, the thrum of the engine soothing his ruffled nerves. Rolling down the window Terry basked in the cool night air before tossing the policewoman’s radio out the window as he made a right turn at the light. The radio clattered to the floor to be run over by the night’s oncoming traffic.

Spam nestled upon Terry’s shoulder, applying a wet nose to the driver’s ear. Spam’s mental voice echoed in awe within Terry’s head. ‘You have balls of steel; the Council is going to eat you alive for this one. What do you call a lazy mage killer with a cop tied up in the trunk?’

The last thing Terry wanted was to face the Council and be put in their debt. The key to his success is no one thought much about him. Just your average run of the mill, unremarkable mage, and Terry liked it that way. Adjusting the rearview mirror, Terry frowned. “I shudder to ask, but what do you call that?” Terry said.

Spam nuzzled Terry and purred, ‘You. Oh, by the way there is a huge market for uniform bondage pictures. We could pull over take a few…’

Terry flicked the signal making another turn, cutting Spam off sharply. “We are not having this discussion.”

‘But’
“No.”
‘But’
“No!”
‘Fine. So where we going hot shot?’

Terry drove down the industrial road behind the Las Vegas strip, watching the glittering lights and tourist traffic. Chewing his lip, Terry went through his mental check list of people he knew that might be able to help him out of this mess. Only one person came to mind; instantly Spam was elated as the rabbit saw the mental image. ‘Yes! Yes! Let’s go! I promise not to over feed! You are the best master ever, Terry Ford!’

Trying to remain composed, Terry forced his voice gruffly. “We need a mind splicer. Dr. Paradise is the best in the city. Strictly business, we get in get the cop wiped and get out.”

Spam huffed, adjusting his perch on Terry’s shoulder. ‘Maybe you are there on business but I am…nevermind. Hey, didn’t you put her brother into White Noise?’

Terry balked, pulling over quickly to a tire squealing halt. Glaring at Spam, his voice grew sharp and demanding. “How do you know about that?”

Spam recoiled leaping from Terry’s shoulder to the back seat. Apologetically Spam canted, ‘You dream, your defenses were down, besides we are linked! I know stuff about you through that bond! I would never tell anyone, I swear! Your strength, my strength, our strength remember? The oath we took? I would never betray you! You might be an asshole sometimes but you are still my one true master…at least until you get killed or get rid of me somehow. You wouldn’t do that would you?’

Terry forced the link shut on Spam, knowing what the familiar said was true. He just didn’t have the heart to tell Spam he was tricked into bonding with the embodied lust spirit. Spam was one of the only true friends he had. Still Terry made motion to assuage Spam, “It’s ok Sp-Sebastian. We’re still good.” Terry said.

Pleased that Terry used its real name; Spam perked its ears and gave Terry a longing look. Terry smirked and relented, knowing what the familiar wanted. “I hear mind splicing can take a while. I suppose it would be alright if you caught a snack or two while at the club. Just don’t over feed…like last time…or the time before that.”

Terry drove into the parking lot that was nearly full, the place would be packed. The Budding Rose the most fantastic strip club in Las Vegas. Where the girls were young and eager, and the prices low, and the expectations would never disappoint. Terry pulled through the lot and around to the service entrance of the club. Exiting the car Terry perched on the hood of his black sedan, looking up at the security camera panning left to right over head. The camera stopped its motion to center on Terry.

Slowly Terry opened his worn brown leather duster showing he was without magical tools or weapons. Not that he needed them; he was one of the few mages in town that did not require the use of wands, totem fetishes, drug use and the like. The service doors opened and a young girl stepped out. At least she appeared to be an underage lass, around five or six years of age.

Terry knew better. He name was Bait, one of Dr. Paradise’s heavy hitters, a body mage with extensive work. Word was she was wound so tight Bait had to develop ‘hobbies’ to keep her from becoming a quivering mess of altered nerves. Her main hobby was enticing perverts into trying to molest her, where she would promptly turn the tables on the assailant to devastating effect.

That little girl frame was a ruse, the muscles had been worked so compact she could twist the head off a berserk gorilla and cover a yawn about it with her free hand. The cute pink sundress was a nice touch complete with pigtails and a frilly bow around her waist.

Rocking on her heels, hands tucked behind her back, Bait smiled with plastic perfection. “Hiya, Mister! I’m lost; can I come home with you?”