The Schizophrenic Ides of March

 

Callie the Wildfire, Ozzie's Ex-Lover from "Rainbow Ranch"

 

Garrisimp

 

Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 2

Lucy could have searched the entirety of Rainbow Ranch up and down and it wouldn’t have done anything but make her lonelier. Not a friend in sight. Not even a piece of driftwood came from that flood. The more she traveled, the harder she hugged herself for warmth. She became dangerously close to creating her own flood with the tears that she held back. Her old fur parents wouldn’t have faulted her for crying. She could have done it all she wanted when she was abandoned on this island with many others. Razor Ripley didn’t want “weakness” in his ranks, but Loki the Skull was even more discouraging of vulnerability due to the insane king that haunted his soul. King Harrison wanted Lucy the Hammer to bear a grudge against her abandoners, but all he succeeded in doing was making her resent him instead.

 

The frosty wind gathering around Lucy did nothing to ease her resentment. “That mean old jerk!” she muttered to herself through shivering breaths. With the power station knocked out, there was nothing to guard against the chilly weather that made Lucy shake harder than any sorrow ever could. She had been wandering aimlessly for so long that she failed to take in her surroundings. There was indeed harsh snow dusting the ground and making the air nip at her fur harder than fleas. “Where am I?” she asked. “Where are my friends? Where’s my tennis ball? I want my mommy and daddy…”

 

With very little meat on her bones (armor notwithstanding), she knew she would perish in this weather and was strangely okay with it. This was what abandonment meant to her. Rainbow Ranch was a lie. Her dumpers were right all along. And as long as Razor Ripley was upset with her, she would never prove them wrong. Debating wasn’t where she excelled in life despite having a yappy bark, which she missed using in the presence of her squad mates.

 

And then…a warm breeze passed over her, putting a tiny smile on her face. The more she felt this, the harder her tail wagged. Lucy yapped and barked as she dashed toward the source of this heavenly heat. Among the uncaring frost was a tiny grotto which radiated a warm orange glow. Hopefully, whoever dwelled in this place was as warm as the heat radiating from within. It would have been easier for Lucy to knock, but her happy zeal carried her past the entranceway regardless, romping inside like a wild stampede.

 

The minute the heat warmed her aching bones, she breathed a sigh of relief and plopped down on her butt. There could have been a fire-breathing dragon in this grotto and Lucy wouldn’t have cared as long as she could feel this heat forever. Though the breeze was no substitute for a mother’s hug, it came pretty close. Her eyes widened at the sound of a phonograph playing gentle guitar and violin music. As if the relaxation couldn’t be more blissful, now she was going to be lulled to sleep by the sweet strums of guitar strings and graceful glides of violins. Lucy yawned before placing her paws behind her head and smiling her way into the dreamworld.

 

Her subconscious vacation lasted as long as one of her kibble dinners as a pup. The record scratched and the new age lullaby was replaced by the hisses and growls of an angry cat. Lucy gulped and slowly opened her eyes to see an elderly anthropomorphic cat standing over her. The cat flashed her cutting fangs, balanced a golden knife in her hands, all while hogging the warmth for herself in her orange knitted armor with brown leather boots.

 

“Are…are you Ozzie the Wise?” asked a trembling Lucy before turning her head away in anticipation of a scratch.

 

“Ozzie the Wise is nothing more than a myth,” the cat growled in a feminine voice. “I’m Callie the Wildfire and you’ve crossed into my domain. What makes you think you’re welcome here? This is not a stray shelter. Move along, fleabag!”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” begged Lucy before nipping up. “You don’t understand! I’m a member of the Shut Up Stupid Dogs! I’m here to help you! There’s a wizard on the loose and…”

 

“And you led him here, didn’t you.” Callie’s arms were crossed, blade still balanced in her paw.

 

“No, no! It’s not like that! You see, my…um…my squad mates were all…” Lucy gulped in an attempt to come up with an answer that never came.

 

“Let me guess: they met a cruel and unfair end at the hands of this wizard,” Callie said coldly.

 

“Um…yes…I mean…I hope not…” The tears were harder for Lucy to fight, but fight them she did.

 

“This is what happens when one of your kings decides to turn perfectly happy animals into monstrosities. This was always the plan for him. You think you’re the only one who misses your mommy? I miss mine too! I never had responsibilities and I don’t want them now. And yet, here you are begging for my help when my generator is sputtering and flickering.”

 

“Please, Miss Callie!” Lucy got on two knees and held her hands together like a prayer. “I can help you fix your generator if you just let me stay a while! Besides, you’re in danger! So is Ozzie the Wise!”

 

Callie tucked her head and turned her back to Lucy. “Ozzie the Wise is a danger to himself.”

 

“What do you mean? You know him?”

 

“I used to. He and I were supposed to be beddy-buddies in our fur parents’ humble home. We did everything together. And then…you know by now what King Harrison did. Ever since then, Ozzie became obsessed with responsibilities that were never his. He learned how to use magic and the more he used, the more his mind shut off. He’s not the man I loved so many years ago. I don’t even know who he is. HE doesn’t even know who he is. If he hasn’t gone down the same path as King Harrison with his insanity, he sure as heck is on his way there.”

 

Lucy stood up and hung her own head. “I’m sorry to hear about that, Miss Callie.”

 

“Don’t feel sorry for me, little pup. Animals never had a say in their own fates anyways, whether we were human-like or not. If our destinies are going to be chosen for us, then at the very least they should be chosen by people who undoubtedly care for us.”

 

“That’s…that’s so sad…”

 

Callie sighed and faced Lucy once more. “When you’re as old as I am, sadness becomes part of the norm. You’re not there yet, but you’ll get there someday. Your joints will ache. Your body will break down. Your mind will cannibalize itself. And then…we all fall down and die.”

 

“Why not speed up the process?!”

 

Lucy and Callie gasped before turning to find those words came from Loki the Skull, lightning swirling his hands and poison dripping from his fangs.

 

“So…you DID lead him here, didn’t you! Foolish oaf!” screamed Callie before she pulled out her knife to confront Loki.

 

“Callie, wait!”

 

It was too late; Callie already engaged her enemy with the fastest of stabs. Her paw blurred and flashed because of this speed, which left Lucy wide-eyed and awestruck. “Cool,” Lucy whispered to herself. Soon enough, her stabs began chipping away a the stone walls of her own grotto. She for sure had victory well within hand…until Loki blasted her with an energy ball and send her crashing into her record collection.

 

Lucy gasped as Callie picked herself up to fight again. But once she saw her records and phonograph destroyed, she collapsed to her knees and trembled in sorrow. “Oh no…no…Ozzie loved this music…and it’s gone…All of it’s gone…” She hugged her possessions and tried her damnedest not to break down in front of her mortal enemy. The last connection she had to her past, gone. All gone. Maybe she really should have “sped up the process”.

 

“YOU BIG FAT MEANIE! I’M GOING TO SMASH YOU GOOD!” An enraged Lucy drew her war hammer and charged at Loki with all of her scrappy might. Spittle flew from her lips like rabies and the warmth of the grotto was replaced with hellfire rage for her sworn enemy. She swung. She smashed. She pounded. She gave the old “one, two, buckle your shoe”…and her hammer went flying once again, jutting into the stone wall.

 

Loki, who dodged every shot Lucy gave, mockingly pulled the hammer out of the wall and dangled it in front of her. “This yours?”

 

“Give it back, you sick little mutt!” Every time Lucy jumped up and reached for it, Loki held it out of her way. Bored with this dog-exclusive game of cat and mouse, Loki zapped Lucy in the chest with a thunder bolt and send her barreling across the grotto. She coughed and wheezed at the damage while Loki continued to taunt her with the hammer.

 

“You want this back? Come get it. It’ll be waiting patiently for you in Ozzie’s home!”

 

“YOU LEAVE OZZIE ALONE, YOU PIG DOG! AND GIVE ME BACK MY HAMMER!” shrieked Lucy.

 

Loki ignored her command and teleported out of sight, black dust following him out.

 

Defeated and humiliated, Lucy dropped to her knees once more and pounded the dirt ground with her fists. “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Why does he get to have all the magic and all I’ve got is this stupid hammer?!”

 

“Magic?! What’s all this about magic?!” snapped Callie as she stood up to collect herself. “Ozzie the Wise has plenty of magic! He’s beaten King Harrison before and he’ll beat him again! You want your hammer back?! I want my past back! Come on, let’s got them both!”

 

Bewildered, Lucy asked, “So…you’re not mad at me anymore?”

 

Callie placed her paw on Lucy’s shoulder and stretched her claw. “Let me put it this way: I’m madder at King Harrison than I am at you. I’ll deal with you another time. But for now…” She held up a piece from one of her broken records. Lucy gulped in fear, but understood the mission at hand.

"The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor" by Max Allan Collins

BOOK TITLE: The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor

AUTHOR: Max Allan Collins

YEAR: 2008

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Urban Fantasy

GRADE: Pass

In the year 200 BC, China’s Dragon Emperor conquered his country with an iron fist and compassion for nobody. Karma would take the form of a sorceress’s curse, which covered him and his army in terra-cotta and banished them in suspended animation for eternity. Fast forward two millenniums and the Dragon Emperor is awakened from his curse by the greedy and zealous General Yang. The globetrotting O’Connell family must now put the mummy back into the ground by stabbing him in the heart with a mystical blade that was guarded for many generations. With an endless supply of firepower and unmatched martial arts skills, the O’Connells truly are the world’s last hope.

Even though this book earned its passing grade (four out of five stars), it’s not without its glaring flaws, particularly in the cheese department. The narrator constantly complimenting the female characters’ beauty, the gratuitous explosions, the sometimes off-color use of similes and metaphors, the instant chemistry between Alex O’Connell (the son) and Lin (Chinese tomb guardian), and the most obvious cheese of all, Alex and his father Rick using penis analogies to describe their submachine guns and pistols. Considering this was once a poorly received movie, I don’t doubt that these cheesy elements turned off plenty of viewers.

But that’s not to say that this book doesn’t deserve the praise it gets. All in all, it’s a fun little book filled with action, adventure, and opportunities for young authors to learn how to write in a fast-paced manner. It turns out that describing every punch and kick within a Jackie Chan-style fight isn’t one hundred percent necessary. In fact, that would take forever and impatient readers like me don’t have forever. We like hard-hitting action. We like hailstorms of bullets. We like tooth and nail struggles that bring the warriors to the edge of death and back again. Although the O’Connell family is blessed with martial arts skills and expensive firearms, they’re no doubt going to earn whatever victories they get. To put it in Rick’s terms, this struggle is going to make them HATE mummies!

The wild imagination of this story is something I also want to praise. Magical elements, bloodthirsty three-headed dragons, barbaric yetis, immortal Chinese warriors, a pool of eternal life, mystical artifacts, this urban fantasy has everything you need in order to get those inner wheels turning. While some of the magical occurrences come off as random at times, they don’t take away from the action or drama of the book and actually make sense in hindsight. Look at it this way: how else is a mere mortal named Rick O’Connell going to beat the crap out of a warrior mummy who won’t stay down? Anybody? Hello? Yes, the dragon dagger comes off as a McGuffin and McGuffins are considered literary sins, but if you’ve got a better way to kill off this seemingly immortal Dragon Emperor, I’d like to hear it.

Sometimes all a reader wants to do is have some fun and you’ll get that with this third installment of The Mummy series. You could also consider seeing the movie this book was adapted from, but diehard readers will want to choose the book instead. The writing style is cinematic in and of itself, so what are you waiting for? Pick up a copy of this four-star book today! Don’t be too turned off by the fact that this story has more cheese than a Domino’s pizza. After all, this kind of cheese would make even a vegan hungry.

"What Hides in the Darkness" by K.L. Cottrell

BOOK TITLE: What Hides in the Darkness

AUTHOR: K.L. Cottrell

YEAR: 2014

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Paranormal Fantasy

GRADE: Extra Credit

Everywhere Marienne goes, she sees hideous monsters disguised as real people. It started when she lost her parents in a car accident and her sister Claire blamed her for it. At first Marienne believes she’s going crazy until she sees two of these Hellions gang up on a handsome young man named Gabe. All pumped full of adrenaline, she joins the fray and helps him destroy both monsters. It is then revealed that Marienne is not alone when it comes to her ability to detect Hellions. Those with this ability are referred to as The Light Force. She undergoes athletic and combative training with other members of The Light as part of her newfound calling in wiping out these demonic beasts.

One of the many things I enjoyed about this book was how lovable these main characters are. It shows in the flirtatious and sometimes awkward way in which Marienne and Gabe talk to each other and slowly build up their budding romance. It also shows when Beatrix and Wes, a married Light Force couple, have each other’s backs through the hardest of times. Combine all four of these awesome characters together and you have a recipe for sweetness that rivals Betty Crocker cake mix. They stick together through thick and thin. They laugh and smile when they’re having fun together and cry endlessly for each other when danger strikes. With this kind of unbreakable friendship, the Hellions don’t stand a chance.

In addition to characters you will instantly fall in love with, others have the world’s most punchable faces. The character I despise most is Rafe, the predatory ex-boyfriend of Marienne who cheated on her with her best friend Audrey and wonders why things ended the way they did. Then you have the ultra-nutty sister Claire, who insults and slaps the stuffing out of Marienne whenever she gets the chance. And don’t get me started about Claire’s new boyfriend Shaun. Actually, I probably shouldn’t get started on him anyways since there’s a twist in the middle of the book about Shaun and I don’t want to give away spoilers. The most irritating part about these villains is that they’re realistic and actually believe in the hate they’re preaching. In wrestling lingo, these people are called “heels” and they’re doing a great job of angering the reader.

And now for the reason why I gave this book an ultra-rare extra credit grade (five stars). I mentioned before how sweet and likeable the heroic characters were. The physical training Marienne goes through reflects so much of those traits that it doesn’t feel like an overwhelming marine boot camp storyline. She’s self-motivated enough that she gets through her intense exercises and sparring sessions without one line ripped from R. Lee Ermey’s character in Full Metal Jacket. I believe we all have the ability to motivate ourselves through anything if we feel passionately enough about it. Knowing Marienne, Gabe, Wes, and Beatrix’s friendship is still intact after all of this heavy work is refreshing to me, especially after watching movies and TV shows where the drill instructor mentality rules over everything. The battles and traumas the heroes endure in this book are no joke, so they have to be there for each other and have emotional moments every now and then.

The fast pace, the likeable heroes, the despicable villains, the world building, and the loving nature of it all make What Hides in the Darkness an awesome book worth reading from beginning to end. The author even does a great job of making you want to complete the trilogy with her perfectly-timed cliffhanger ending. Give this woman your patronage and she’ll give you five-star entertainment!

"Lament of the Fallen" by Andy Peloquin

BOOK TITLE: Lament of the Fallen

AUTHOR: Andy Peloquin

YEAR: 2016

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Dystopian Fantasy

GRADE: Extra Credit

Once a ruthless contract killer, the demonic Hunter now struggles with the voices in his head, which urge him to kill and feed his magical dagger Soulhunger despite The Hunter’s overwhelming guilt. Traveling aimlessly, The Hunter stumbles upon a battle in which a knight named Sir Danna and her apprentice Visibos are trying to fight off highwaymen. Against the voice’s wishes, The Hunter springs into action and earns the two knights’ trust by defeating the bandits. As the group of three travels together, he must keep his demon heritage a secret since the two knights are sworn hunters of his kind. How long can this charade last? What will be the consequences if he gets caught?

Just like with the Bucelarii book that came before this (Blade of the Destroyer), the battle sequences in Lament of the Fallen are well-thought out and realistic down to the last detail. Andy Peloquin has a black belt in multiple martial arts, so when he talks about sneaking into guards and the effects a simple strike can have on bones, he’s not joking around. The way The Hunter ignores his own suffering in order to win a battle represents the kind of toughness it takes to succeed in martial arts. He could have fire in his lungs, stinging sensations on his skin, and a head full of fog, yet The Hunter somehow manages to push the worst kind of pain to the back of his mind and finish his battles with a bloody passion. His stealthy fighting style and ruthless aggression make The Hunter one of the most feared opponents somebody could have in a fight.

Which brings me to my next point: The Hunter is more than a bloodthirsty killer. Despite his demon heritage, he has more humanity in his pinky finger than most of the people he encounters have in their whole bodies. His struggles to resist the urge to kill are believable and relatable to any reader. His need for friendship despite his murderous vocation makes him even more relatable. He may have the outer shell of a tough-minded killer, but deep inside lies a modicum of innocence that will always steer him towards the right path. He doesn’t kill because he enjoys it. He does it because he must. Maybe the voices in his head enjoy every bloodbath he goes through, but The Hunter is better than the demonic commands that threaten to control him. If you can’t get behind him right away as a reader, you will by the time the story is over.

But there’s one reason why this book has earned my ultra-rare five-star rating: because the voices in The Hunter’s head are reminiscent of modern day schizophrenia, which I have suffered from since 2002. The Hunter just wants his brain to shut the hell up and give him some peace. That’s all I wanted when I first started hearing my own voices as a teenager. I wanted it so badly that I would have committed suicide to obtain it if it hadn’t been for my loved ones talking me down. Because I can relate to The Hunter on a deep level, I want him to succeed in this story. I want him to find answers to his past. I want him to seek revenge on those who wronged him. I want him to find friendship in the unlikeliest places. It’ll be another five hundred years in The Hunter’s world before Risperdal is invented, so living with this sadistic dialogue in his head is even tougher for him. I feel for him and I want nothing but the best for him, despite the fact that he’s an assassin for hire.

Andy Peloquin knocked it out of the park when he wrote “Lament of the Fallen”. Everything about this book is believable from the fight scenes to the emotional traumas to the world building to the street folk’s reactions. You will find a lot of surprises as you flip through these pages and you will have an evil smirk on your face when The Hunter finds success in his journeys. Mr. Peloquin is one creative son of a gun and he deserves the highest praise for his hardest work. I don’t give five-star reviews that often anymore, so enjoy your success, Andy! Hold your head up high (unless of course you’re dodging a roundhouse kick).

Oswald the Giant

Zack Moraga didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be found guilty for a murder he didn’t commit. He didn’t deserve to be locked up in the smelliest god-awful dungeon for five years. He also didn’t deserve to have his only chance at freedom come at the price of hunting a giant with little more than a jagged dagger and a measly crossbow. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t lay a giant even if he had a fiery catapult and two battering ram teams. He was all alone out there in the Dread Wight forest with two crappy weapons and a death sentence disguised as a window of opportunity.

The poor prisoner didn’t even try to track down this “Oswald the Giant”. He just sat on a tree stump in the middle of this foggy forest and sulked with his spiky-haired head in his hand. What did he really do to deserve all of this? Why was he wearing leather blue prison armor instead of a decent outfit? Didn’t anybody even remotely entertain the idea that Zack Moraga might be an innocent man? All he was at that point was a statistic. An outcast. A walking corpse. These negative thoughts caused a sigh to slip from his chapped mouth.

Finally after a few hours of moping on that tree stump with nothing but his thoughts, the ground began to shake. At first it was a gentle rumble. But then as the beast got closer, the tremors knocked Zack off of his stump and sent him into a mad dash for safety. He was barely one step ahead of the giant as it put its foot down for another violent quake. And another step. And another step. While this would be considered moseying for a giant, it was an exhausting sprint for Zack, who fell off the dirt trail and into a ditch.

The would be giant slayer laid on his back after so much exercise and breathed heavily. His ribs were sore from the cardio and his feet felt like he was walking on swords barefoot. He was done for. This is what a corrupt justice system in medieval times amounted to. For god’s sake, if the giant wanted to kill Zack, why didn’t he do it already? Get it over with! Quit letting the anxiety build up!

And then the giant laid down beside Zack on the dirt trail and rolled on his back. He let out an animalistic yawn and then a longwinded…purr? Wait a minute. Giants don’t purr. Sure enough, Zack opened his sore eyes for a few seconds and saw that the “great” and “fierce” Oswald the Giant was an oversized tiger-striped cat who purred and played like any other domestic animal would. But for now, he was sleeping.

A cat? The high courts wanted Zack Moraga to kill a giant cat? What for, exactly? Was his heavy stepping really that much of a threat to the royal kingdom? Was there a sudden shortage of fur? How about meat? Were people that starved for a good meal? Whatever the case was, the imprisoned warrior shook his head and achingly pulled himself to his feet. There wouldn’t be a better time to slay the giant than right fucking now.

Even though his body was sore, Zack managed to find the strength within his tired bones to climb up on Oswald’s belly using his fur coat. The big gut rose and fell slowly and evenly. The purrs were mixed in with the snores. This cat was definitely unconscious. But sneaking across the moving belly without disturbing him proved to be difficult work for Zack.

He tried to maintain his acrobatic equilibrium whilst tiptoeing across the beast’s stomach. Thinking this kill was already his, the hunter pulled out his crappy dagger and raised it in the air, hoping to get a good stab to the throat. He was almost there. He could feel the sweet taste of freedom. And then Zack stumbled on his ass and awakened the kitty giant, the rusty blade dropping to the ground below.

Oswald looked at the strange creature on his belly and lifted his head to try and lick him off like a flea. “Oh, dear god! Why?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” screamed Zack as he was getting bathed in feline saliva. The goopy fluids caused the jailbird to stick to Oswald’s tongue and be flung high in the air after the cat spit him out.

While in the air, the cat giant batted him around like a common toy with all four of his fuzzy paws. Zack Moraga continued to curse and scream since the harsh motion (along with the spittle) was making him sick to his stomach. A final wave of Oswald’s paw sent the fighter off to the side of the dirt trail into the ditch once again.

Zack hit the ground hard enough to finally trigger a storm of vomit from his already filthy mouth. After about half a minute of puking, it was pretty much just dry heaves, which went to show how poorly prisoners were fed under this justice system. How badly they were defeated was also evident when Zack laid in a puddle of his own (and Oswald’s) oral filth and didn’t care about life anymore. It was over.

“Who am I kidding?” he said to himself. “This was a setup from the start. I don’t know how to slay a giant, much less a goddamn cat. Fuck this. I’m…going…back…to sleep.” He let out an acidic yawn and started to pass out when Oswald was nudging him with his wet nose.

“Stop it, leave me alone!” said Zack weakly. “Just kill me already! It’s over! My life is over! Why are you taking so long?!” Oswald was licking him again and the saliva didn’t smell any better than it did before. “Why?! Why must you do this to me?!”

After a while of licking, Zack was clean of his vomit, but not of cat spittle, so it was a minor victory at best. Oswald then grabbed Zack by his shirt collar with his teeth and tucked him into his belly before snuggling around the suicidal warrior. Along the way, Zack heard his crossbow drop on the ground as well, but he wasn’t going to lift a pinky in order to pick it up. To be honest, Oswald’s furry cuddle was more comfortable than any straw bed in that crappy dungeon. It didn’t take long for Zack to fall asleep in the cat giant’s loving hold.

The entire night had passed over the Dread Wight Forest and still Zack’s handlers didn’t see any progress made. The two seven-foot tall knights clad in steel armor and carrying war hammers were trudging through the forest in search of their ill gotten prisoner. “I told you we couldn’t rely on that pathetic weasel to get the job done!”

“What did you expect? He’s one guy with the most basic weapons we can come up with. Do you really think he stood a chance? Besides, there really was no hope for him after all. This had death sentence written all over it.”

“So the whole thing was just one sick joke from the start?”

“Pretty much. Now where is the little bastard? I’m hungry and I don’t want to stay in this wretched forest any longer.”

The ground shook and knocked the two towering knights on their asses, yet they kept steady grips on their war hammers. Before them stood Oswald the Giant, with his teeth showing, his drool flowing, and his hisses and growls coming at intimidating paces. Even so, the two knights weren’t the least bit scared. They laughed at the kitty giant before getting up and dusting themselves off.

“Come on, you giant turd! Let’s see what you’ve got!” shouted one of the knights before that same knight felt a sharp pain going up the crack of his ass. He danced around bleeding and screaming like a little girl until he eventually lost his footing and spun out into the ditch below to die.

The other knight noticed that the source of the anal pain was a crossbow bolt, one issued only to prisoners of this “death sentence”. The steel-clad warrior looked around and saw Zack Moraga leaning against a tree with his arms folded and the smoking gun (or cocked crossbow) in his hand.

“You sick bastard!” screamed the remaining knight as he stampeded toward the unflinching Zack with his war hammer ready to strike. The seven-foot warrior felt a hard smack against his back and flew into another oak tree with explosive force. The pain was horrendous, so much so that turning his head to see who smashed him was a chore itself. It was Oswald and his giant paw, no doubt.

As soon as the knight peeled himself out of the tree, he fell over in a weakened state and was ripe for the picking. Zack waddled over to him and lifted his head before saying, “Justice is finally served!” That was the last thing the knight heard before he felt the jagged edge rip his throat to pieces, bleeding him out and suffocating him at the same time. He died instantly.

After the two handlers were disposed of, Zack threw aside his weapons and looked up at Oswald with a big smile on his face. He hadn’t smiled in such a long time and it felt good to do so. The now ex-prisoner climbed up on Oswald’s back and said, “Take me home, kitty-pie. I have a baby girl who’s dying to meet you!”

The jolly gray giant meowed and purred as he trotted across the forest, fully intending to take Zack home where he belongs.

"Blade of the Destroyer" by Andy Peloquin

BOOK TITLE: Blade of the Destroyer
AUTHOR: Andy Peloquin
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Medieval Fantasy
GRADE: Pass


The Hunter is a ruthless contract killer who always finishes his assignments and demands his payment right away. His methods are as mysterious as his actual birth name. He does everything on his own terms. Those who double-cross him will find themselves brutalized in the worst possible way. Rumors of his deadliness have spread far and wide, creating the illusion that he is invincible. But when he finishes an assassination of a high-ranking lord, he finds out that the aristocrat is involved with a criminal empire known as the Bloody Hand. Only through dealing with these merciless thugs will The Hunter’s invincibility be truly tested.

The reason this book gets a passing grade (four stars if you’re on Good Reads) is because of how well-constructed it is. Everything is so intricately researched to where the author himself feels like an authority on contract killings and stealth trickery. Whenever The Hunter needs a disguise, he not only puts on the right clothing, but he also puts plaster on his face to match the physical description of that character. When he needs an entry point into a castle or a fortress, he sneaks to the tippy-top of that building and eases his way inside with no problems. When he fights his opponents, they not only go down, they stay that way either through brutal incapacitation or death itself. The Hunter does everything he possibly can to keep his identity a secret while successfully going in for the kill.

As cold and calculating as he is, The Hunter is not without personal feelings. Every once and a while, he’ll meet with a small child or a lonely beggar that he feels so much sympathy for that he’ll pay them a little extra money and attention when walking by. He even allows beggars outside of his home, mostly to maintain subterfuge, but also because they have nowhere else to go. And whenever The Hunter sees a pretty woman, he’s not without his primal urges to get in bed with her and do the nasty. This goes to show that no matter how much you push your feelings down for the sake of your profession, they will always come back stronger than ever. It’s what makes us human, and though people think of The Hunter as godlike, he is human.

But if there’s one part about this novel that really had my attention, it’s The Hunter’s weapon of choice, the Bloodhunger. It’s a jagged dagger that not only rips flesh and shatters bones, but also drains the spiritual essence out of those it penetrates. When Bloodhunger wants blood, he’ll get it one way or another. Did I say he? That’s because the dagger actually communicates with The Hunter in a schizophrenic fashion whenever it’s time to kill someone. The hungrier the dagger is, the louder the head voices become. Sometimes The Hunter will have witty banter or a philosophical discussion in his own head about oligarchies, romance, and such, and Bloodhunger will completely interrupt his train of thought with violent words. Not only is this a creepy and frightening part of the story, but it’s also quite original. Any form of against the grain creativity will always strike a chord with not just me, but also other readers.

Andy Peloquin may be an independent author, but he’s no rookie. If he is, he doesn’t write like one. His descriptions paint a vivid image in the reader’s mind just like any piece of writing should. Blade of the Destroyer is no exception to that rule. You should also follow his blogs on Good Reads since his words of wisdom will ring true with any aspiring author. I follow him on Good Reads and we’ve actually become good friends over time. This passing grade I’m giving his book isn’t because we’re good friends. It’s because he’s a damn good writer with infinite potential and a creative mind. He can get the job done come hell or high water.




 

Tagline/Elevator Pitch:



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



Book Blurb:


The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer


The Hunter of Voramis is the perfect assassin: ruthless, unrelenting, immortal. Yet he is haunted by lost memories, bonded to a cursed dagger that feeds him power yet denies him peace of mind. Within him rages an unquenchable need for blood and death.

When he accepts a contract to avenge the stolen innocence of a girl, the Hunter becomes the prey. The death of a seemingly random target sends him hurtling toward destruction, yet could his path also lead to the truth of his buried past?

　

Book Info:



Title: The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer

Author: Andy Peloquin

Official Launch Date: August 21st, 2015

Publication Date: July 11^th, 2015

Paperback Price: $15.99

Digital Price: $3.99

Pages: 298

ISBN: 1515038955

　

Buy Links:



Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book-ebook/dp/B012EI9M4A/

Amazon Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book/dp/1515038955/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25269614-blade-of-the-destroyer

　

Book Launch Event:



https://www.facebook.com/events/1625045874438351/

　

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:
Hot wings, ALWAYS!
I never forget a face, but rarely remember a name.
I'm a head taller than the average person (I'm 6' 6")
Marvel > DC
I was born in Japan, and lived there until the age of 14.
Selena Gomez and Five Finger Death Punch are both in my playlist.
Aliens are real, but it's self-centered of us to believe that they would come to visit Earth.
Watching sports: suck. Playing sports: EPIC!
I earned a purple belt in Karate/Hapkido/Taekwondo.
I dislike most Christmas music, aside from Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
　
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