Tag Archives: Dearbhaile

A new type of Raw Into the Realm post

I’m including links to music that I feel would enhance the reading of the selections. The links will open in new windows, so while the music plays, read the selection. I hope this experiment does make it better. Let me know in the comments below?

Start.

The punches of the Chronomancer rained down on Carter. He paid them no heed, too numb by what he’d done. A distinct crack as his jaw gave way under the other man’s heavy hits. Her screams, and begging echoed through his mind. Though she pleaded with him to stop, he did not. He’d given into his baser urges like an animal. He deserved this. Everything. His eyes gushed water when his nose was broken.
Sera ran over and grabbed Robilar’s arm. “Stop hitting him!” He growled and shook her off. “I mean it, he’s not responsible for what happened to Dearbhaile! Look at him!”
“He makes me fucking sick. To think I looked up to the bastard.” He whirled on the smaller woman. “And how dare you try to defend him! I caught him!”
“Would the Carter Blake you know rape his beloved? Would he just stand there and take the beating you’re giving him?”
Both men turned to look at her. “Speak sense, girl,” the Chronomancer growled.
“Look, I don’t know my brother as well as you do, Robilar, but I do know he’s not the type to rape.”
“There’s the slight problem of I caught him in the fucking act!”
“Maybe he wasn’t in control,” she said.
“Stop trying to defend him, Sera! His actions are inexcusable and indefensible.”
“What if Drago used a spell to control his body and mind? Will you condemn Carter for what is entirely plausible?”
“Check,” Carter mumbled. The pain of the shattered jaw was excruciating, but he could deal with it.
Robilar growled, not willing to give them the satisfaction of trying to excuse the bastard, yet there was a small feeling wiggling at the back of his mind. ‘What if she’s right?’
“I’ll call Dearbhaile.” A big hand on her shoulder stopped Sera. She glanced up to her big brother shaking his head. “No? I don’t know of anyone else who has the kind of power to tell.” Carter slapped Robilar’s chest, driving him back a couple of steps. “Robilar? Do you know of someone?”
He rubbed his sore sternum. ‘Shit. I forgot how strong the Walker really is. Sera wasn’t kidding about him allowing me to hit him. That slap felt like he was smacking the back of my ribs from the inside. Ow.’
“Yeah,” he croaked.

Start.

Robilar concentrated, and pulled on the time stream. A sparkling orange portal appeared. He reached into it and, with a mighty heave, withdrew a wizened Snebbli. He collapsed against the stone wall, breathing hard. The Snebbli glared up at the Chronomancer.
“What do you want, Time Mage?” he squeaked. He could only point at Sera and Carter. The Snebbli’s eyes widened when he saw the Walker of World’s, and he knelt.
“We need something done for us,” Sera said.
He shook his head. “I cannot. If I do it, bad things wil-”
Carter yanked him up by the collar and held him there. “Do it.”
The little being blanched, then nodded his head. Carter set him gently on the floor. Eyes closed, he touched the big human’s hand. A crackle of electricity echoed through the room. He slowly looked up at the Walker. Carter’s insides turned to ice. His heart pounded in his ears. His body shook. The elderly wizard nodded. “He used the Fist of Ra.”

Start.

Sera held her breath, bracing for the explosion. Her hands felt clammy. The room tilted crazily as she trembled. ‘I should get out of here before he loses control. Move, feet!’ Sweat broke out on her brow as she watched her brother.
His veins popped out in his neck. His throat worked, trying to release the feelings building within him. His big hands bunched to fists, knuckles crackling and veins popping out. Carter’s chest heaved like bellows building a fire. He shook his head side-to-side. His eyes showed the sclera clearly before they turned a glowing electric blue and he bellowed, a primal scream. With an explosion that knocked dust from the ceiling, he vanished. Goosebumps raced over her body.
Dearbhaile ran in. “Do nae tell Carter what happened,” she yelled.
“Too late,” said Robilar. “He’s gone.”
“Oh, shit.”

Into the Realm: the Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book I (raw update)

I blinked and a man dressed in green and dark brown leather armor stood before me. He had a lean and muscular build to him. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. A sword with a blue crystalline blade was held in his right hand. He looked over his shoulder at me. Coffee colored eyes sparkled with mischievous humor. The Lyxo that had been about to kill me drew up in surprise. Three heads sniffed the air, then with swung a massive paw at the newcomer. Without taking his eyes from me, he casually cut off the incoming limb. The demon bellowed in pain, then swiped at the mystery man again.

He turned to the attack, leaped on to the arm, raced up and stabbed the demon’s dragon throat. He then flipped through the air sliced the lion muzzle off, and then stabbed the goat between the eyes. As the Lyxo collapsed, he pulled the blade free, ran along it’s chest and flung himself through the air at the Lyxo that had Adora on the defensive.

Her flanged mace glowed with an eldritch violet light. Each time it collided with the tiger paw of her demon, black sparks leaped into the air. The three headed demon Lady Orwen battled had heads like a bull, the torso of a tiger, and the lower body of a goat. It threw its fists at her just as the man in leather arrived. As she blocked the strikes, he grabbed the outer horn of the right bull head, twisted it downward, flipped under it and snapped the neck. Continuing his motion, the man stabbed the center bull head between the horns, pulled the blade free, and flipped over to the last one, stabbing it between the horns as well. The man gracefully hit the ground in a tuck and roll.

His flashy appearance caught the attention of one of the Lyxos. The demon tried to stomp the man with its goat-hooved frog leg. He rolled under the assault, came to his feet and sliced the four legs off with a quick figure eight flourish. The ground shuddered under the impact of the demon’s collapse.

A rain of arrows came his way. My jaw dropped when I saw him either cut the arrows down, block them with his sword, or dance passed. He caught one and threw it back on almost the same trajectory. ‘Why the hell did he do that? There’s no way it- Oh.’ The arrow accelerated to the point of invisibility. Several demons in a row blew apart in chunks and sprays of blood.

An enormous bipedal beetle with a muscular brown body covered by a shiny, green-black carapace erupted from the ground. Its eyes were silver and bulbous, and its vertically-aligned teeth gleamed with a greenish-black saliva. Keratin  spikes grew around the monster’s legs and shoulders, and its forearms were covered by two-foot-long curved blades. With the exception of its coloration, it was identical to the bug I fought in the arena. It leaped for me. Without thinking, I brought by foot up. The bug’s jump carried it face first into the bottom of my foot. As I went back from the force, it crashed to the ground.

As I regained my balance, the beetle-creature sprang to its feet. I cocked my sword over my shoulder like it was a baseball bat.

“Azerith, metrenome Zinthos!”

I was splattered with silvery ichor as I registered Lady Orwen’s voice. The beetle, its skull crush by a powerful blow from behind, toppled forward. I wiped the sticky, yet sweet-smelling fluid from my face and peered at the princess. “Did you really have to splatter the contents of its cranium on my face?”

She shrugged, and wiped blood and grime from her cheek. “You were just standing there.” I grabbed her arm, yanked her against me and whipped my sword up. She planted her hands on my chest and pushed away. “Carter, you’re attached.” I rolled my eyes down to her, then back up. She turned and saw an ape-like demon with yellow horns curving from where its eyes would be impaled on my weapon.

“You’re welcome.” I pulled my sword from the fiend’s chest while she stepped away from me. I drew the back of the sword along the crook of my elbow, removing majority of the ichor that had collected on it, flipped it through a series of show-offy motions, then sheathed it.

She quirked her grimy eyebrows at me. “Was that necessary?”

“Not at all. But it looked awesome, didn’t it?” That earned me a tired sounding chuckle. I looked around. The battle was winding down. The man in leather finished off the last Lyxo and sheathed his sword after a similar flourish to mine. “I like that guy. Whoever he is.”

“I wonder why.”

I jogged over to Dearbhaile and swept her into my arms. “I’m so glad you are safe, Rishka.

“And I, ye.” She slanted her mouth over mine and gave me a deep kiss.

A Sit Down With Keeper Dearbhaile

I’m sitting on the second floor of the coffee shop/internet café, Peace & A Cup of Joe (713 W. Pratt St. here in Baltimore City, MD), when a sudden movement catches my attention. I look up, and my breath catches. A gorgeous woman approaches. Her face is ageless, neither old nor young, though in it is written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. Her hair, at first seeming sable, is revealed to be auburn as a maple leaf in the fall in direct light; her eyes are emerald and in them a light like that of the stars. Thought and knowledge are in her glance which seems to pierce me to my innermost secrets. The lady’s grace is such that she seems to glide across the floor. Her bearing causes me to rise when she approaches. “Carter says ye wished to speak tae me?” she says. Her mellifluous voice has a Scottish, or Irish, burr to it.

I nearly swallow my tongue. “Yes’m. I would like to ask you a few questions, if that is okay.”

“Aye. Ye may.” She has a small smile on her rosy lips.

I offer her a seat, and take my own once more. I take up my pen and notebook so I can jot notes. I look into her emerald eyes and can see why the Walker of Worlds had fallen in love with her.

R.w: Let’s start with the pronunciation of your name, if that’s alright.

KD: Aye. It’s pronounced Der-va-la Ga-lon-ah-dree-el.

R.w: Dearbhaile Galonadriel. A lovely name.

(A small smile.) KD: Thank ye.

R.w: You’re welcome. You don’t look like other women I’ve seen before. There is an otherworldly air about you, as if you’ve seen everything before, yet you look to be no more than 24. How is this?

KD: Yer a smooth taker, sir. (she chuckles) I be a half-Elven. I’ve seen my third century already.

R.w: Wow. Carter calls you “Keeper Dearbhaile”. Is that a title? (She nods) What is a “Keeper”?

KD: A Keeper be one who learns magic from a Vaush-tauric. They be apprenticed for two centuries, then they return to their clan. Eventually, they lead their clan.

R.w: A Vawsh-taw-ric?

KD: Vaush-tauric, yes. They are Dragon Speakers, a direct conduit to the draconic gods. They be vera powerful magic users.

R.w: And you are a student of one?

KD: I was. I’m now th’ Walker’s companion.

R.w: Your eyes shine when you speak of him. Would you share more?

(She turns pink, and bites her lip) KD: I love him. He makes me feel alive, as if I can do anythin’ in th’ world.

(I grin. I can hear the regard she holds for the Walker of Worlds in her voice.)

R.w: When I last spoke with Carter (look), he mentioned something about a Sourcewell. What is that?

(She sobers)

KD: That be where th’ gods be from. It be th’ beginning of ever’thin’.

(I choose to say nothing of how her brogue has thickened. I hope I haven’t upset her too much.)

R.w: That seems to be a touchy subject.

KD: Aye.

R.w: Would you tell us why?

KD: A vile man be tryi’ tae get thair. If ye will excuse me.

Before I can say anything, she vanishes in a flash of silver light. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m intrigued. I’m thinking of trying to interview Belial, or Drago the Clanless next. Who would you like to hear from? Let me know below.

Character Interview

A little bit back, I got us an interview with Carter Blake, the Walker of Worlds ( see it here), but he had to leave abruptly. I was able to secure an interview with his lovely mate, Keeper Dearbhaile. She has graciously agreed to sit down with me at Peace & A Cup of Joe, the cafe where I usually write.

I’ll post it tomorrow, as soon as we’re finished chatting.