Give Me the Weapon

So…have any of you watched a movie or TV show where an attacker is threatening people with a weapon and someone pleads with him to hand it over?

“Give me the gun. Don’t do this.”

“It’s okay, just give me the knife. Please.”

“Give me the crowbar before you do something you’ll regret.”

It makes for some intense drama, no doubt…unless of course the weapon isn’t a basic one and has a complex name.

“Give me Excalibur. Please.”

“Give me the Dork Slayer before you hurt somebody.”

“Give me the Shadow Edge before something bad happens. I’m begging you.”

And just like that you’ve gone from dramatic tension to the audience busting up with laughter.

Run Like Hell

CHORUS

Run like hell from the perfume smell

Run like hell from the wedding bells

Get your ass home before you turn to stone

Find another place to bury your bone

VERSE 1

Locked in a contract like Christian Grey

This newfound prison is your wedding day

Shotgun loaded and pressed to your head

Say the words “I do” lest you end up dead

Run like the wind, it’s your only chance

To get your ass out of this toxic romance

A hellish honeymoon in a seaside resort?

Time to cut that shit so fucking short

CHORUS

Run like hell from the perfume smell

Run like hell from the wedding bells

Get your ass home before you turn to stone

Find another place to bury your bone

VERSE 2

She screams like a demon, bites like a vampire

A virgin sacrifice is what she will require

You’re strapped to a cross naked as a baby

Gagged with a sex toy, screaming like a lady

Your heart beats fast as the seconds pass

Sweat pours down, you start to drown

Here comes the blade, the pact is made

I now pronounce you lonely and afraid

CHORUS

Run like hell from the perfume smell

Run like hell from the wedding bells

Get your ass home before you turn to stone

Find another place to bury your bone

VERSE 3

Get the fuck out like a scared little mouse

Get your ass free and run like the breeze

Never turn back for a heart so black

Suck down air to calm your standing hairs

Take your ring off and give it a toss

An instant divorce is what you get of course

I know you’re tired, I know you’re scared

I know the trauma will never be fair

FINAL LINES

Run, motherfucker, run, motherfucker, run! X3

Run! Like! Hell!

Dark Marriage

“Nice night for a black wedding, don’t you agree?” grinned Kain Venomtongue as he gently caressed Sheryl Sweet’s ball-gagged face with the back of his fingers. The frigid wind brushed its way across the top of the ziggurat and lifted Sheryl’s wedding dress a few inches. With her wrists and ankles bound to a horizontal metal cross, the dress would be the only thing flying free that night. Standing on either side of the temple stairs was a chorus of anthropomorphic cobras reciting hymns and flicking their tongues. The groom-to-be looked every bit as serpentine as his brethren with his monstrous face and green scaly flesh, most of which was covered by a dark sorcerer’s robe.

Sheryl Sweet struggled in her bindings and let out a few “Mmph’s” through her gag, but not even a barbarian’s strength could unseal her fate. The bride’s wide eyes and hysteria remained a stark contrast to Kain’s villainous smile as the necromancer pulled a jagged blade from his robes and recited hymns alongside the snake men. “Ashes to ashes,” he chanted. “Dust to dust. We are forever bound by Satan’s flames. Not even God nor his angels shall interfere with this dark marriage. Those who dare ascend the staircase invite the stench of death itself. If any mere mortal wishes to object to this sacred tradition, speak now or forever hold your tongue!”

As if on cue, a sharp steel presence descended from the night sky and slashed one of the snake men in half vertically, sending a storm of blood across the staircase and prompting Sheryl Sweet to scream like a mad woman possessed. “What the hell is this?!” Kain shouted, to which a blur of surgical steel whirred across the staircase, shredding, eviscerating, and disemboweling any snake monk in its path. Slithering screams echoed across the starlit night as the bloody rain continued to descend down the ziggurat. Pieces of flesh were carried away by the evening breeze. Organs sloshed and splashed until the satanic structure resembled a slaughterhouse. Every cobra minion lay in pieces with those fortunate enough to be alive regretting their decision to live.

Sheryl gazed in wide-eyed horror at the violence before her. Her ghostly shrieks were reduced to sobbing whimpers. Kain brushed her face with his fingertips and whispered, “Don’t worry, my love. This ceremony shall continue one way or another.” His promise to the bride was sealed with a delicate kiss on her sweaty forehead. He even licked one of her tears away, but once that was gone, more came flooding down her face.

The “tender” moment was interrupted by the sounds of a bird warrior pantomiming vomiting. The owner of the tainted blade knelt at the top of the staircase to further his act before breathing heavily and wiping his mouth off with his feathered arm. The bird man rose to his feet and revealed himself to be wearing red and blue ninja gear, which complimented his golden (albeit bloody) feathers.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more nauseated, you go and pull that shit,” barked the bird man while accusingly pointing his blade at Kain. “There ain’t going to be no black wedding or dark marriage or whatever the fuck this is called. I’m Ronan Crow and it’s my job to bring the woman back home where she belongs. So unless you want to get force fucked with three feet of steel, I believe now is the time to remove her bindings. And for fuck’s sake, take that disgusting gag out of her mouth!”

Kain Venomtongue took a deep swallow, held his hands up defensively, and pleaded, “I think you’re making a big mistake, my friend.”

“No!” Ronan belted. “You made the mistake of bringing this bitch out here and trying to marry her! Look at her, she’s fucking terrified! It’s men like you that make me afraid to have daughters of my own! Come on, Miss Sweet, you’re coming back home to the king.” With Kain backing up several feet, Ronan approached the metal cross and slashed the bindings off in quick fashion.

Sheryl stood up and removed her ball gag before shaking her head at Ronan and shoving him lightly. “Are you fucking insane?!”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” said a silver-tongued Ronan. “Now hurry up and get on my back before Kain Slobbertongue over here takes three more Viagra and makes a move on you again.”

Sheryl slapped the bird warrior across the face and said, “You’re an idiot! You’re a goddamn idiot! This whole black wedding was my idea!”

“You’re kidding me…” said Ronan with wide eyes.

“No, I’m not!” shouted Sheryl while stomping her foot. “When you bring me back to my father’s castle, what do you think is going to happen? He’s just going to marry me off to some loser so that he can have more land and more riches for himself! I chose Kain over here because he’s a true gentleman! He’s fun! He’s adventurous! And kinky as hell! I mean, look at him!”

“Yeah, I’m looking at him alright. He’s definitely a catch. I don’t know how anybody could pass up a handsome stud like that,” said Ronan, oozing with sarcasm and shaking his sword at the necromancer.

“Oh, this?” asked Kain nervously. “This isn’t my real face. It’s just makeup.” He wiped away his scaly face and skin with the sleeve of his robe to reveal a youthful elf underneath with flowing black hair, golden piercings, and a soul patch underneath his chin. “And just so you know, those snakes you killed weren’t really snakes at all. Those were my friends. They too were wearing makeup and costumes. The black wedding theme was mostly their idea. And Sheryl’s too since she’s really into bondage.” Sheryl giggled and blushed at that last comment.

“Well, if you miss your wonderful fucking friends that much, why don’t you bring them back to life or some shit like that. You’re a necromancer. Do something!” yelled Ronan.

“Congratulations, bird brain,” said Sheryl while pointing a finger in Ronan’s face. “You proved once again that you have the IQ of an orange peel. Kain isn’t a necromancer, dummy. He’s a neck romancer. See? There’s a difference.” She brushed back her raven hair to reveal a hickey on the side of her neck.

Ronan roared like a lion before shoving his sword into the floor and belting, “Enough! Enough of this bullshit! The two of you make me fucking sick to my stomach! Why in the hell would anybody think hickeys and ball gags and crucifixions are sexy?! What woman on the face of this earth actually gets wet to something like that?! What grown man would ever get a hard-on to it?! This is some fucked up repugnant shit right here! I ought to kill both of you right now and spare the king the disappointment in having a bratty daughter!”

“Listen to me, you dumb shit!” shouted Sheryl as she pointed a finger in his chest.

“Back off, bitch!” barked Ronan while swatting her down on the floor with his feathery arm. Kain tried to rush him, but the bird warrior pulled out his sword and held him at distance. The “neck romancer” could smell the vile stench of blood radiating off of that horrible weapon. “You are a sick little turd, Kain Venomtongue. You’re a pervert and you’re probably a pedophile too! Maybe you shouldn’t take Sheryl home with you anyways! I’m pretty sure she’s too old for you!”

Kain dropped to his knees and recited a Satanic prayer before Ronan tapped his head with the flat end of his blade and said, “Oh no, buddy! None of that hocus pocus shit is going to save you now! You’re dead, you filthy creepy! You’re goddamn dead!”

Kain tucked his head further into his chest ready for death to come take him away. He could hear the sword wooshing around in the air and it made his heart beat faster and his blood run cold. His forehead sweated profusely, but he continued to pray to his demonic god. The close the blade came to touching his face, the louder his prayers. With one last “amen”, the sword was ready to come down on his neck.

The woosh of steel slashing was replaced with a heavy thud followed by avian feet shuffling about. Kain lifted his head up and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Ronan Crow, with a lump on his head, rolling and tripping down the ziggurat stairs. Bones cracked, feathers flew, and squawks created a symphony of cacophony across the empty sky. These satisfyingly violent sounds went on for as long as the stairs would allow them to. And then there was silence; complete deathly silence, save for one final squawk until Ronan came face to face with Satan himself.

Kain grinned at the sight of his lover holding her ball gag like a pair of brass knuckles. The feathers and blood pasted to the rubber ball were badges of honor to her and proof she was no damsel in distress. Kain happily leapt to his feet and hugged his bride, though she responded with tears instead of reciprocated happiness.

“He ruined our wedding, Kain. He fucking ruined it,” Sheryl sobbed.

“Forget the wedding, my darling,” slithered Kain. “A wedding is just an event. True love can never be broken apart.” He kissed her forehead and said, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” The two of them made out together before Kain said in between kisses, “Darling…you were wonderful tonight!”

Knives to Meet You

VERSE 1

You look so cute when you’re on the floor

Bloodied and broken, a victim of gore

There’s only one way to end our little war

Slash and stab your ass a little bit more

CHORUS

Knives to meet you! X3

Knives!

VERSE 2

My blade reminds me of an Otter Pop

Licking it clean, never missing a drop

How can something so goddamn bad

Taste so good it drives me bat shit mad

You’re damn right I’m sick and I love it

Take the edge of my knife and stuff it

Right into your most delicate places

If these are your holes, I’ve got the aces

CHORUS

Knives to meet you! X3

Knives!

VERSE 3

A serial killer and a blood spiller

Intoxicates me like a bottle of Miller

Gets me high like a needle full of drugs

Gets me horny when you’re covered in bugs

This is my idea of black comedy

This is my idea of peace and harmony

The silence of the lambs is new age music

Goddamn, it feels so good to just lose it

EXTENDED CHORUS

Knives to meet you!

Fight and defeat you!

Slash and beat you!

Carve and eat you!

Until we meet again!

In the world of death!

Knives to know you!

Knives to own you!

FINAL VERSE

Don’t worry, my love, it’s all a punch line

Drink in the humor like a bottle of wine

Put your feet up and enjoy the show

It’s all you can do in a hellfire glow

Thunder Sword

CHORUS

With my thunder sword!

I will slay the horde!

I will win this war!

Shake shit to its core!

VERSE 1

I am the bringer of light

I am the one who will fight

I am the paladin knight

I will do what is right

No more dark politics

No more dirty tricks

No more throwing bricks

At the weak and the sick

CHORUS

With my thunder sword!

I will slay the horde!

I will win this war!

Shake shit to its core!

VERSE 2

I will occupy

The wasteland and sky

Justice will be mine

Right now is our time

I ride on my warhorse

Cut straight to the source

Leaving another corpse

A thousand more of course

BRIDGE

With blade in hand

I’ll cleanse this land

I’ll be the last to stand

I’ll be the firebrand

I’ll bring you down

As my war cry sounds

It’s the final slash

Your body turns to ash

EXTENDED CHORUS

With my thunder sword!

I will slay the horde!

I will win this war!

Shake shit to its core!

I will thirst for more!

In this world of scorn!

I have become reborn!

In this blood rainstorm!

Interview with Andy Peloquin: Round Two

1. Do you play videogames? If so, how do they influence your writing?

I'm huge and I'm a gamer, so I guess I'm a huge gamer. I love "run and gun" games, ones without much strategy or planning. Read the way the Hunter interacts with his enemies, and you can see my play style.

I wouldn't say video games have affected or influenced my writing. If anything, books have the greatest influence on what I write. I find that my writing style changes slightly according to the book I'm reading or listening to. Humorous books make the Hunter more sarcastic, while epic books make the sentences more long-winded and detailed.

2. What are your favorite TV shows to watch and how do they influence your writing?

I love ALL the comic book TV shows (The Flash, Arrow, Legends of Tomorrow, Supergirl, Agents of SHIELD, Daredevil), but I also enjoy shows like Suits, Killjoys, The Big Bang Theory, and many more.

I will say that TV shows do affect my writing. As I watch TV, I come to better understand how to dole out information and plots in small quantities in order to keep the reader coming back chapter after chapter, book after book. The serial nature of TV shows helps me to write series better.

3. What advice can you give to an independent author who wants to market his or her book but doesn’t know how?

Ask for help! The majority of what I've learned about marketing has just come from kind people offering advice, feedback, and resources. Facebook, Twitter, forums, YouTube, and random blogs can provide you with a wealth of information that will help you to spread word about your books. The more you learn, the more you can figure out what works and what doesn't.

4. Does world travel influence your writing? If so, what places have you been to?

I was born and raised in Japan, and have traveled Mexico, the U.S. and Canada. I know traveling does influence my work greatly. For example, in the first The Last Bucelarii book, Blade of the Destroyer, the Hunter loves spending time among Snowblossom trees--the Einari version of Japanese cherry blossom (sakura) trees. The arid deserts of Mexico and the southern U.S. helped me to better write the deserts through which the Hunter travels in Book 3, as well as the canyon and mountainous land of Book 2. The more cities I visit, the more I understand how each place is different--a difference I try to infuse into each location the Hunter visits.

5. Do you plan on writing a nonfiction memoir someday?

I do not. While memoirs are a great way to tell an important story about your life, I feel like the stories in my head would be much more interesting than the stories about my past. That being said, I will be writing a dark fiction novel about a cult--sort of a demonized, exaggerated version of the cult I was raised in.

6. How important is pacing when you’re writing a book?

I've found that a good book has both epic fight scenes and slow moments of reflection, heart-pounding races to escape death and slogging through the mud of feelings and emotions. Variations in pace are vital to making a book feel real and interesting.

7. Have you ever written comedy before?

I have not, but I did try to infuse as much humor into my Atlantis novel--In the Days: A Tale of a Forgotten Continent--as possible. I doubt I will ever be as funny as Terry Pratchett or Glen Cook, but I'm pretty sure I could match their level of snark. If only I could think of a character/story that fit it…

8. Do you play pencil-and-paper RPG’s like Dungeons & Dragons? If so, how do they influence your writing?

I LOVED playing D&D when I was younger, though I didn't get a chance to play much. I know the thrill I got from playing the game made me want to write fantasy over sci-fi or mystery fiction.

9. Which is more important to a fight scene in a book: choreography or storytelling?

Both are equally important. While a good fight does need to be choreographed well, it's the storytelling that goes along with the movements and action that makes a fight scene more than just two unimportant characters hacking at each other with weapons.

10. How important is sensitivity to you when you’re reviewing another author’s book?

Unfortunately, I'm not a very sensitive person. I have no problem saying what I think could be improved. I don't bash the book or tear it down, and I won't say "I dislike X element". I'll try to say "I feel X element was lacking" or "X element didn't hold my interest". I'm a bit blunt and harsh, but I've tried to temper my reviews to encourage other authors. If my reviews can help them to improve instead of tearing them down, that's the goal. I know negative, constructive reviews have made my writing much better, so I hope I can do the same for others.

Book Cover:

Tagline/Elevator Pitch:

A faceless, nameless assassin. A forgotten past.  The Hunter of Voramis--a killer devoid of morals, or something else altogether? (The Last Bucelarii--dark fantasy with a look at the underside of human nature)

           

Book Blurb:

The Last Bucelarii (Book 2): Lament of the Fallen

The Hunter of Voramis is no more.

Alone with the bloodthirsty voices in his head, fleeing the pain of loss, he has one objective: travel north to find Her, the mystery woman who plagues his dreams and haunts his memories.

When he stumbles upon a bandit attack, something within urges him to help. His actions set him at odds with the warrior priests commanded to hunt down the Bucelarii.

Left for dead, the Hunter must travel to Malandria to recover his stolen birthright. There, he is inexorably drawn into direct conflict with the Order of Midas, the faceless, nameless group of magicians that holds the city in a grip of terror. All while struggling to silence the ever-louder voice in his mind that drives him to kill.

From feared assassin to wretched outcast, the Hunter's journey leads him to truths about his forgotten past and the Abiarazi he has pledged to hunt. His discoveries will shed light on who he really is…what he really is.

Fans of Joe Abercrombie, Brandon Sanderson, and Brent Weeks will love the Hunter…

Book Info:

Title: The Last Bucelarii (Book 2): Lament of the Fallen

Author: Andy Peloquin

Official Launch Date: August 19th, 2016

Publication Date: July 21, 2016

Paperback Price: 15.99

Digital Price: 3.99

Pages: 340

ISBN: 1535388668

Buy Links:

Amazon Kindle: Not yet available

Amazon Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Last-Bucelarii-Book-Lament-Fallen/dp/1535388668/

Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/Last-Bucelarii-Book-Lament-Fallen/dp/1535388668/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30973111-lament-of-the-fallen

Book Launch Event:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1756560507952924/

Join my Thunderclap:  https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/44830-the-hunter-rides-again

Bio:

Andy Peloquin: Lover of All Things Dark and Mysterious

Andy Peloquin--a third culture kid to the core--has loved to read since before he could remember. Sherlock Holmes, the Phantom of the Opera, and Father Brown are just a few of the books that ensnared his imagination as a child.

When he discovered science fiction and fantasy through the pages of writers like Edgar Rice Burroughs, J.R.R Tolkien, and Orson Scott Card, he was immediately hooked and hasn't looked back since.

Andy's first attempt at writing produced In the Days: A Tale of the Forgotten Continent. He has learned from the mistakes he made and used the experience to produce Blade of the Destroyer, a book of which he is very proud.

Reading—and now writing—is his favorite escape, and it provides him an outlet for his innate creativity. He is an artist; words are his palette.

His website (http://www.andypeloquin.com) is a second home for him, a place where he can post his thoughts and feelings--along with reviews of books he finds laying around the internet.

He can also be found on his social media pages, such as:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndyPeloquin

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andyqpeloquin

www.linkedin.com/in/andypeloquin/

https://plus.google.com/100885994638914122147/about 

https://www.amazon.com/author/andypeloquin  

https://www.facebook.com/andrew.peloquin.1

10 Things You Need to Know About Me:

1.      Hot wings, ALWAYS!

2.      I never forget a face, but rarely remember a name.

3.      I'm a head taller than the average person (I'm 6' 6")

4.      Marvel > DC

5.      I was born in Japan, and lived there until the age of 14.

6.      Selena Gomez, Skrillex, Simon & Garfunkel, Celine Dion, and Five Finger Death Punch are all in my writing playlist.

7.      Aliens are real, but it's self-centered of us to believe that they would come to visit Earth.

8.      Watching sports: suck. Playing sports: EPIC!

9.      I earned a purple belt in Karate/Hapkido/Taekwondo.

10.  I dislike most Christmas music, aside from Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Favorite Books: The Gentlemen Bastards by Scott Lynch, The Stormlight Archives by Brandon Sanderson, Sherlock Holmes by A.C. Doyle, Warlord of Mars by E.R. Burroughs

Favorite Songs: Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch, Prayer by Disturbed, I'm an Albatraoz by AronChupa, Look Down from Les Miserables, Shatter Me by Lindsay Sterling and Lizzi Hale

Favorite Movies: 300, Red Cliff, Shoot Em Up, Love Actually, Princess Bride

Favorite Comics: Anything with Deadpool, Wolverine or Doop in it

Favorite Foods: Hot Wings, Meat-Lover's Salad, A good sandwich (made by me), Yaki Soba, Sushi

Favorite TV Shows: The Flash, Daredevil, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hawaii Five-0, Brooklyn 99, Firefly (too soon!), The Last Ship, The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones

Reviews:

"Creative, gritty, and beautifully dark...fantasy addicts will love it!" -- Peter Story, author of Things Grak Hates -- http://peterjstory.com/

"The fantasy world has a compelling new antihero…the Hunter will terrify and captivate you." - Eve A Floriste, author of Fresh Cut

"From the first words on the page this fantasy holds the reader spellbound even after the book is finished…his character is very well-defined even if his past is a mystery. Root for an assassin? Oh, yes, one must!" -- Carol Conley, for InDTale Magazine

"Oh the carnage! Fantastic bloodthirsty carnage! The fight scenes in this book were fast-paced, detailed and thrilling. I love a good sword fight and there is plenty of that here." -- Ami L. Hart

"One could get lost in this novel for its twisting plots, seemingly endless imagination, dark yet irresistible characters, or the mind-numbing paradox of its simultaneously dark and romantic world. One could follow the long and winding road of the dusky, fierce protagonist and fight tooth and nail not to sympathize with him. One could dance in the dizzying, intricate circles of Peloquin's neo-mythology, or even basque in the black sunlight of a well-crafted gothic novel that both entertains and enlightens." -- Jesse G. Christiansen

Fight to the Death: Mitch McLeod vs. The Hunter

I, Garrison Kelly, challenge you, Andy Peloquin, to a duel to the death! But it is not we who will fight, but our characters…

In the black corner, weighing in at 180 pounds, standing a cool 6 feet tall, the Hunter of Voramis!

Tale of the Tape:

1. ·         Superhuman reflexes, strength, speed--think Captain America, but stronger
2. ·         Thousands of years of weapons training
3. ·         Body has accelerated healing factor--can survive a sword to the heart (can be killed by drowning, iron weapons, beheading, and suffocation)
4. ·         Cannot be killed by anything but iron
5. ·         Accursed dagger that heals him when he kills
6. ·         No magical abilities whatsoever
7. ·         No hesitation to kill if he perceives opponent as a threat/obstacle to his desires--classic anti-hero

In the red corner, from Los Angeles, California, standing 6’4” and weighing in at 268 lbs., “The Hardcore Hero” Mitch McLeod!

Tale of the Tape:

1. Preferred style of fighting is professional wrestling
2. Described by commentators as a "technical brawler", meaning he is proficient in suplexes, throws, and submission holds
3. Can also slug it out for as long as he wants.
4. Being a professional wrestler requires mental and physical toughness, which he has in spades.
5.  It took an entire roster of monsters and demons just to send him to the ICU and he still delivered his story's final blow.

Two enter the ring, only one can leave alive!

How would Mitch McLeod kill the Hunter? Since professional wrestling requires toughness and endurance, Mitch will absorb two strikes from The Hunter's sword just to deliver one massive superman punch. Once the Hunter is wounded, Mitch can pass through his defenses and perform bone-crunching wrestling moves like the piledriver, the body slam, the belly-to-belly suplex, and even a Texas Cloverleaf submission hold.

To kill Mitch McLeod: The Hunter would try to overwhelm him with his inhuman speed, strength, and skill. All he has to do is pierce him skin with Soulhunger, and the dagger will consume his soul. Not even someone with considerable magical abilities can survive Soulhunger's bite--it was created to kill demons. 

Who would win?

Because he can last longer than any opponent The Hunter has ever faced. Mitch could shake the ropes Ultimate Warrior-style and find his second wind, his third wind, and every wind after that until he finally delivers a spine-jarring power-bomb and paralyzes The Hunter like he did to a seven footer named Jack Finnegan.

But not even the mighty fists of the technical brawler can put the Hunter down for long. No matter how many times McLeod takes him to the ground, the Hunter will get back up. With every taste of McLeod's blood, Soulhunger floods the Hunter with strength and healing and weakens the wrestler. Mitch McLeod may be the greatest warrior to enter the ring, but the Hunter has defeated demons.

Winner: The Hunter. In the end, Soulhunger claims all souls.

Want to find out more about this cold-blooded killer who would dare challenge the former KDW World Heavyweight Champion to the death? Click here https://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book-ebook/dp/B012EI9M4A  to read about The Hunter.

http://andypeloquin.com/  

Who do YOU think would win? Did we get the match-up right? Leave a comment below and let me know.

Mastodon

“Ten-thousand gold pieces for the capture of mass murderer Courtney Robyn, wanted dead or alive.” That seemed like a sweet deal to Christopher Brown. Find the craziest bitch in the town of Middlesex, cock the sniper’s crossbow, fire, repeat. Shouldn’t be too hard for a pro like Christopher. He’d only been tracking her for a whole goddamn year with no solid leads and minimal sleep.

And boy, did his lack of sleep ever show itself in the most obvious ways: constant yawning, dark circles under his eyes, depression, bad posture, and hazy vision. He wouldn’t have sacrificed his health so easily if that ten-thousand gold piece reward wasn’t badly needed.

For all the times he was wide awake, he thought of the fact that his log cabin of a home was falling apart little by little. The rainy weather was warping the wood, termites were chewing on it like beef jerky, and sleeping at night was impossible anyways due to the cold temperature and wet blankets. Finding a new place to live, preferably something worthy of royalty, wasn’t just for the sake of convenience; it was do or die in the worst possible sense.

As Christopher Brown walked down the street in his studded and spiked leather armor with the crossbow strapped to his back, he suddenly felt energized and awake, as if the danger of his situation shot a river of adrenaline through his veins. That was because after a year of hunting clues, he had that bitch Courtney Robyn clear in his sights.

Try as she might to conceal her appearance in a monk’s robe, she made one mistake when attempting to shake off bounty hunters: she didn’t brush her teeth. Christopher could smell that horrific oral stench from a whole block away: children’s blood mixed with women’s flesh and men’s muscles. Courtney’s victims were all dismembered and mauled in some way, leading authorities to at first believe they were attacked by wild animals. But these butchering marks were too perfect for animal paws. These bodies were dissected like a turkey’s corpse: with the intention to be eaten.

Time to collect a paycheck and get this cannibal off the streets for good. Christopher stood on the street corner and watched as the familiar and foul smelling “monk” in brown robes headed to a fruit stand in the bazaar. The street markets were filled with all sorts of customers and food mongers whether dinner that evening was fish, meat, or in Courtney Robyn’s case, fruit, probably to cleanse her breath.

Christopher approached his target with the vast number of customers in the bazaar getting out of his way since he was the most intimidating guy there. Brown hair in a ponytail with a scraggly beard and a face tattoo? Yeah, you’d better move. By the time he made it to the fruit stand, however, Courtney had already made him.

She threw off her brown robes and pulled a crying baby away from its mother before holding a jagged blade to the little guy’s throat. This was her alright: curly blond hair, the face of a demon, the clothes of a street dweller, and the breath of a cannibalistic monster. As soon as Christopher drew his crossbow and pointed, Courtney threatened, “Don’t take another step, bounty hunter, or the baby gets it!” She then kicked the hysterically crying mother in the shin to shut her up. The baby, on the other hand, was noisy enough for everyone in the bazaar, who were now fleeing the scene.

“Courtney, if you so much as pin prick that baby, I’ll put a bolt right through your fucking head! I know how you are! You’ll kill anybody as long as they taste good! I bet that baby tastes like pumpkin pie, but you’re never going to know if I get a good head shot!” threatened Christopher.

“Oh, you’re so good! You truly are an avid professional! I can smell the sweat equity you put into hunting me down…and that sweat smells like heavenly butter on that delicious man meat of yours!” said Courtney as she ran her monstrous tongue across her yellow teeth and chapped lips.

“I’m warning you, you psychotic bitch! Put the baby down or else…”

“Or else what?” The Mexican standoff ended when Courtney threw the screaming baby like a football into Christopher’s line of vision, hoping he’d pull the trigger of his crossbow out of instinct. His finger was itchy and twitchy, but he never fired. He dropped his crossbow, dove forward, and caught the baby in his muscular arms.

He spoke calmly to the little guy in a cutesy-wutesy voice while the mother limped up to the two of them crying herself. Christopher got up from the ground and handed the baby back to his mother, being ever so gentle despite his own scary appearance. “Thank you so much!” said the tattered clothed mother before she hugged him around his thick neck.

In all of this excitement, Christopher had lost eye contact with his target Courtney Robyn. The baby toss was just a diversion to help her get away. As the bounty hunter hugged the teary mother back, he was doing it also because a year’s worth of work had just gone to waste. His eyes would get blacker, his bed would get colder, and his depression would get heavier. In his mind, he cursed himself for being so “stupid”. On the outside, he held onto the hug for a little too long and the mother and her baby had to struggle to break free, which they did.

The mother and her baby would have the same reasons to cry as the rest of the bazaar customers, who were still running away in packs. Courtney Robyn didn’t escape from Christopher Brown. She didn’t want to. After a few loud, earth-trembling steps that cracked the cement roads, it was apparent that the cannibalistic murderer was still in control. Of all the animals to be riding, she had to chose a mastodon.

Not just any mastodon, but one powerful enough to squash large numbers of people like ants underneath its massive feet and towering legs. The body of this magnificent creature was stiff with muscles that made riding it feel like laying in firm bed, a luxury Christopher wish he had. Courtney Robyn, being arrogant and crude, rubbed it in by laying on her back with her hands behind her head while the beast of burden trampled through the crowd.

Some were fortunate enough to pack themselves in the alleyways and huddle underneath dustbins. Most of the customers were trying to outrun the godlike beast and got crushed and bloodied for their efforts. The streets of Middlesex looked like a battlefield with the number of flattened carcasses laying about. Christopher’s crossbow looked like someone had spilled toothpicks on the ground when it too was crunched.

Christopher himself, on the other hand, took a different route from the rest of the pack: he began scaling the buildings. The buildings were made with bulging stones held together with shallow cement, so sticking his feet and hands between spaces was easy. Climbing quickly was even easier since the adrenaline made him forget about his depressive tiredness.

But then the mighty mastodon was bumping into buildings as more people were trying to get away from it. The whole incident felt like a mosh pit with the mastodon crushing and smashing everything and anyone in its path. Courtney had done a hell of a job of riling the beast up, yet she was the most comfortable on its back. What a sick prick.

Christopher was beginning to slip and slide from his climbing position, but he was so close to the top. He could feel that final stone with in his muscular grasp. He held on with such tightness that it resembled the kind of chokehold he wanted to do to Courtney. The building continued to shake with the mastodon’s fury and Christopher’s fingers were getting weaker. With the last of his fingertips slipping away, he plummeted to the ground below in what was sure to be a splatter punk death.

He didn’t land on the cement ground to be pummeled, though. He landed right on the mastodon’s back with Courtney just now “waking up”. The spikes and studs in Christopher’s leather armor were so sharp and jutted so far that they irritated the mastodon like a bad case of flees. The destructive monster bucked around in the air like a rodeo bull, jostling Courtney and Christopher into the air and onto the cracked and split pavement.

In the last few seconds of consciousness he had after hitting the ground with deadly impact, Christopher could see the feet of not only bazaar customers fleeing, but also animal tamers lashing ropes around the mastodon to try and tame the beast. It was a relief to see the monstrous animal subdued within the world’s longest minutes. He could finally go to sleep.

No, he couldn’t! With one gloved hand, he held his left eyelid open. With the other, he rolled over on his belly and dragged himself over to where Courtney was laying. Christopher’s vision was blurry at best, but he knew the positioning all too well. She landed on the back of her neck with her legs doubled over her face.

Just a few more drags across the pavement with the detached studs in the bounty hunter’s armor irritating his skin. Another one. And another one. With bloody skin and quite possibly broken bones, Christopher Brown was finally able to drape his arm over Courtney’s lifeless body. Any authority figure looking at the two of them would know that Courtney was his catch and nobody else’s. They’d have no choice but to pay up and hopefully witnesses would back Christopher up if they didn’t.

Maybe the mother with the frightened baby could be a witness. Maybe the stony ground wasn’t such a bad place to nod off after all. Maybe…maybe…zzzzzzzzzzzzz….Goodnight, Christopher Brown. Rest in peace, Courtney Robyn.

Gail Reinhold

NAME: Gail Reinhold

AGE: 30

OCCUPATION: Paladin

CANONS: Final Fantasy Hardcore, Tribe, Hardcore Hell, and Fireball Nightmare

Your eyes don’t deceive you and quite frankly I don’t know why they would unless you were having an acid flashback. Gail Reinhold has been a part of four different failed stories, thus making her the most experienced heroine I’ve ever had (and no, that’s not an invitation for the W-word, so piss off). No matter what canon she was a part of, she was always the eventual arm candy of Deus Shadowheart, the most popular and experienced character I have.

Deus Shadowheart is a smelly barbarian who can rip someone in half with his thumb and forefinger. Gail Reinhold is a beautiful paladin who can be both tough-minded and tenderhearted at the same time. How exactly do these two people find each other attractive? How does a beautiful flower like Gail give consent to a barbaric beast like Deus and then the two live happily ever after? In all the times they’ve been together, it was always because Deus was saving Gail from an abduction, one that happened over and over again, might I add. Doesn’t exactly make Gail a strong feminine role model despite supposedly being a badass magic-wielding paladin.

With the random selection I put my characters through, it’s not likely Deus and Gail will ever be a couple again. They might not even be part of the same canon. Were they ever really good for each other if Gail was only a damsel in distress? How about she actually put her magic and combative skills to good use and save a man’s life for a change. Or save another woman’s life. Or save her own life. Make her tough and independent at the same time. She can still be the tender and emotional sweetie pie I always made her out to be, and that might actually work in making her a flawed character despite being nearly invincible in combat.

In addition to being multi-dimensional as a character, she can also be that way when it comes to the time period she occupies. Paladins are Dungeons & Dragons characters by nature, which in plain English means they’re medieval warriors in medieval times. But what if this was the future? What if she was an intergalactic princess with an energy sword (I can’t say light saber lest I be sued by Disney) and unlimited magic powers? Or here’s a crazy idea: she could actually make it in the modern world with no fantasy or supernatural elements whatsoever. She could be a badass marine, a rookie cop, or a digital Robin Hood, all while using a sword. A cop with a sword? A marine with an energy blade? Hell yeah, now we’re talking!

If Gail does find another story to be a part of, then I can’t make the same mistakes I made with her in the past, which are make her too fragile and kill her off with no sympathy or empathy for her character. Gail has a lot of potential to be something great. She shouldn’t be ruined by an early death or a Mary-Sue stigma. I might have to go all the way with her and make her the main character of whatever story she’s a part of. Gail Reinhold: a badass diva with a blade and an attitude. I like the sound of that! It almost sounds like it has graphic novel implications. Bottom line: I believe in Gail’s star power. She can have the charisma if I give it to her. But the question now is, what story will she be a part of? Let’s go to Random.org to find out!

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If Natalya won the Divas Title, that wouldn’t be good for Tyson Kidd. He’d have more things to carry.”

-John “Bradshaw” Layfield-