Stuffs...

So.... Yeah....

Well, no witty humor, no snide remark, no little piece of sarcasm. Nope. None.

I know it's been a few weeks since my last post, but, well, stuffs happened. What exactly? What the fuck do you think happened?

Christmas happened.

So, that put quite a bit of a damper on what I had planned to do: post uses on space wolves characters, what I thought of the new Dark Eldar Codex, maybe a battle report.

Well, those are going to be delayed. Why? Well, I am writing a book after all. And, well, it's actually coming along better than I ever though.

How good?

Well, it's 170 pages and twelve chapters so far.

Well, shit.

First off, this surprised me too. I had always thought I never had the stamina or the will to ever write a full fledged book. And, well, 170 pages. I mean.... Shit.

Now, I won't lie when I say I've had some influences from other piece, but then who hasn't? Tolkien, Lovecraft, Gemmle, McNeill, Abnett. I mean, well, a form of flattery is doing what others have done, right?

And asking for help works too, right? Well, I wrote McNeill and, well, McNeill is an author I greatly like and admire. When I first started reading Black Library book, the Ultramarines Omnibus was the first one I read. And, by the gods, was it awesome. Since then I have read almost all of McNeill's books, and enjoyed them greatly.

So, yeah, I wrote McNeill. I wasn't expecting much, since he is an author for the Black Library, and working on a lot of stuff. So, it wasn't too much to expect a few sentences right?

Well, this happened.

"Hey Max,

Graham would be just fine... :-)

As far as advice on your story goes, it doesn’t sound like you need any. If you’ve got the details of the siege sorted out, then that’s good, and you already know your ending, which is a bonus. Most sieges ended with the capitulation of the garrison through starvation or realising that the couldn’t possibly hold on (so they’d hold out long enough to satisfy the demands of honour and make sure they weren’t reprimanded for cowardice when they got back to their own forces...). If you’ve got your characters sorted, then that’s most of the work done, as knowing them will inform you as to how the story needs to proceed.

The one thing I’d watch is that the story doesn’t just end with them being rescued without them having done enough to achieve and earn it. There has to be some aspect to the story that shows they’ve worked to survive, and that without those particular characters with those exact skills, the story would have had a far less happy ending. For an ending to be satisfying, the reader has to feel that the characters did it themselves and weren’t rescued by a bolt from the blue.

Anyhoo...hope that’s of some help,

Cheers,

Graham"

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I've never lied when I say I'm a bit (Ok, a lot) of a 40K fanboy. When I got this, well, I freaked right the fuck out(and still kind of am).

I mean.... Wowie. Just.... Wow.

Here I am, a college freshman in the middle of Ohio, asking a popular (and New York times Best Seller plus David Gemmle award winning) writer for some advise, and getting so much.

Now there's one question I've been getting from my friends: Will you publish it and become a full fledged writer?

Answer: I would hope to and no.

The first two things I say to people who mistakenly ask me for some writing advise (Like I'm an expert) is simple: A) Don't do it. B) Really, don't do it.

What would I like to be? Simple, a Lawyer who also writes sometimes (Freelance). That way, if I publish a book and if it does poorly, which there's a large possibility of, then I still have a job, and maybe earn a few extra bucks.

That's it.

Simple. Easy. Affordable.

The book? Yeah, it's in progress, it will most likely be for a while, but hey, small victories, right? Well, at least I'm doing something constructive. Anyway, here's an excerpt from it, enjoy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then there was the Supreme Commander Himself. Harad Thunderson. He sat immobile on his throne, fully clad in the finest armor that Shi-Goth could produce. In the light of the room, it gleamed and glowed the brightest, heavily ornate and powerful. It was a mixture of gold, bronze and silver, all inlaid as ancient rune text sprawling all over the armor, both making the armor beautiful and magically enhancing its strength and durability. Equally as ornate was the helmet, which rested on the right arm of the throne, covered in runes and only having a “T” like shape on the front, allowing on to look through.

Harad was seven hundred years old, and for five hundred of those years he had served as the Supreme Commander. His face looked like it had been carved from granite, hard, strong and unwavering. A single scar crossed his left eye, making it milky white. His white hair was shoulder length and still had streaks of brown. Like Egil, he had no beard. He sat immobile on his throne, smiling as he watched both Bran and Ulrick approach.

When Ulrick and Bran reached the base of the throne, Ulrick dropped to one knee.

“My Lord,” he said.

Harad laughed as he rose from his throne and beckoned Ulrick to rise.

“Come now, lad,” he chuckled. “You need not kneel to me, you’ve, at least, earned that right.”

“It’s a matter of respect, my Lord,” Ulrick replied, rising.

“Fine, fine, have it your way, lad,” Harad said, approaching them. He nodded at Bran, who returned the nod. Harad stood facing Ulrick, taller than Bran, he was the closest man Ulrick had met who come face to face with him. He radiated strength and confidence, confidence that was infectious. He frowned as he saw Ulrick’s three scars.

“And where did you get those, son?” he asked

Ulrick hesitated, thinking where to begin. “That,” he said finally, “is a long story.”

Harad moved back to his throne. “Well, lad, we’ve got time,” he said sitting down. “Why don’t you tell us what happened.”

Ulrick looked at Bran, who nodded. “As I am sure you know,” Ulrick began. “I volunteered to take a battalion of soldiers out of Wulfengar through the wilderness to take a break from the mindless politics of the senate.”

“Aye, I remember that,” Bjorn commented.

“For the most part, it was a quiet break,” Ulrick continued. “It was then we found signs of a battle, a slaughter. I knew it couldn’t have been some of our scouts, I saw no pyres. We found tracks leading away from the site and I gave the order to follow them. Ask any of the men I had with me and they could tell you something was wrong. We followed the tracks and soon found they had taken hostages from the foot prints. From there we soon found who we were looking for.”

“And they were?” Egil asked.

“A battalion of Veraci soldiers,” Ulrick answered.

Harad’s brow furrowed. “The Veraci?” he repeated, rubbing his chin. “This will not sit well with the senate.”

“Relations with the Veraci Empire have become strained in recent years,” said Bjorn. “But I see no reason as to why a battalion of soldiers would be in our lands and take a group of scouts hostage.”

“What reason would they need?” Growled Logan. “And why should we care? This is an act of war, of invasion! We should mobilize the Legions for war.”

Harad shook his head. “The senate must declare war, then the Legions can be mobilized. There is a way around that, but I will not it unless I have to.”

“By the time those bickering fools declare war, half of Shi-Goth could be sacked and burning,” Ulrick snarled.

Harad raised his hand. “I understand your frustration, Ulrick, but we have a system that has lasted ten thousand years, and it must last. Do you have any evidence that could prove your point? The senate will only accept hard fact, your word, no matter how popular you are with the public, is not enough.”

Ulrick nodded. “I have the scouts that they captured, they can testify that the Veraci are about to invade.”

Harad nodded. “It is something, but if I could get the senate to declare war on their word alone, it would be a stretch. Do you have more?” Harad leaned forward in his throne. “Do you have the Veraci captain.”

“No,” Ulrick admitted, shame welling up in him. “He was killed before I could get much more than the initial plan from him.”

“He was killed?” Logan snarled. “How could you let him be killed? Out of all of those vermin, he should have been the focus of your attention.”

Ulrick turned his full gaze on Logan, who, like all others, had to look away. “He was my focus, Ardesh, and don’t you accuse me of otherwise,” Ulrick snarled. “Events outside of my control killed him before I could get to him.”

“And what did happen?” Bjorn asked, tentatively.

“Before we attacked and slaughtered the Veraci, I suspected that one of my men was afflicted by the curse,” Ulrick began, not looking at any of them. “It turns out he was well along during the battle, when the captain fled the battle he… gave chance. Fearing the worst I ordered some men to break away from the battle and stop him. I was occupied with killing the foul sorcerer they brought with them. When it was done, I gave chase as well, hoping to stop him. I was too late.”

A moment of silence hung between them all. To Ulrick, it was deafening.

“The men that followed him?” Egil asked finally, quietly.

Ulrick removed his hood and drew Njal’s blade, holding it in front of him.

“These scars and this blade is all that’s left of them,” he answered quietly.

Harad nodded solemnly. “And the man who was afflicted?”

Ulrick hesitated now, looking once more at Bran. Bran nodded, make or break time, let them judge your decision.

“I bested him in combat, he was the one who gave me these,” Ulrick said, touching one of his scars. “But in the moment I was about to finally kill him, he… Spoke.”

Confusion dawned on all of their faces.

“What do you mean, ‘he spoke’?” Egil asked.

“I mean what I said, he spoke, plain, coherent words.”

“Impossible,” grumbled Logan. “He was gripped by the curse, there is no way he could speak.”

“Normally I would agree with you Ardesh, but he spoke to me,” Ulrick Continued. “I also saw something in him, something fighting the curse, beating it back, almost.”

Logan snorted. “You saw something. Like you could see into a man’s soul.”

Ulrick turned his gaze, once more, on Logan and this time without his hood his gaze made Logan turn away.

“My eyes never lie, Ardesh,” Ulrick snarled. “Never lie.”

“Enough,” said Harad, loudly and firmly. “What happened to him Ulrick? What did you do?”

Ulrick took a deep breath, crunch time. “I spared him.” He said shortly.

Logan looked appalled, Egil gave a look of surprise, Bjorn furrowed his brow, and Harad raised an eyebrow.

“You spared him,” Harad repeated slowly. “Why?”

“He was and is the only man I have seen who looked like he could hold the curse at bay,” Ulrick explained. “He is different from the rest of the Arunash, I wanted to know why. And foremost, he is a Shi-Goth Soldier through and through, if he has made the choice to serve, I will do all in my power to ensure he is granted just that.”

“Well said,” Egil commented.

“And well done,” said Harad. “I would have done the same. I assume you took him to the academy?”

“I did.”

“And Mordakai is inspecting him?”

“Yes.”

Harad nodded. “Very good. Now, on to the matter of the immanent Veraci invasion. We need more evidence that they are here.”

Bjorn nodded. “I agree. Ulrick, are you sure there could be more battalions within Shi-Goth?”

“I am very sure, Shi-Goth is too big for just one battalion to scout,” Ulrick said confidently. “There have to be more.”

“Then, simply enough we need to find them,” Harad continued. “Bjorn?”

“I will send word to Midgar to have all trackers begin looking for Veraci battalions,” he said. “ As well as to begin preparing for an invasion, the Guard are the only Legion within Shi-Goth currently, and for now we will have to do.”

“Bran, send two battalions of Praetorian to assist the Guard,” Harad ordered.

Bran nodded. “By your will.”

“We must also send word to the other Legions to return to Shi-Goth as soon as possible,” Harad continued. “Egil, do whatever you can to get word as fast as you can to them.”

Egil simply nodded.

“And Ulrick,” Harad said at last, looking dead at Ulrick. “My order to you is simple.”

Ulrick nodded.

“Find them,” he said simply, leaning forward. “Find them and bring them here.”