Hopefully in a few weeks we'll get the rest of the trailer footage shot edited together and that finished.  In the meantime, get a laugh out of this at my expense.  Share away please!

I mentioned the AUD trailer film shoot in Vegas a couple weeks ago, and after much begging, and arm twisting, my plane tickets are booked.  Huge thanks goes out to the people who have donated money, and especially Les_ who donated some serious frequent flyer miles to help out.

If you're interested i helping more, donate, subscribe, or snatch up some stuff from the School Store.  More money is good, but no shit, right?

Anyway, I'll be in Vegas from the 22nd to the 25th, and we're filming on the 23rd and 24th.  If you'd like to attend the film shoot as a helper, or possibly with an on-screen part, head to the Facebook event for the shoot here:  http://www.facebook.com/events/400921953328689/

I'll be working with Joe on some place we can do a meet and greet after the day one or two wrap, so folks can meet me, and I can meet them, and we can be all social and shit.  So if you'd like to be in Vegas this weekend, make it so!  Bring your camera, or bring some AUD stuff for me to sign, and I'll gladly do so.  if you want to order something for me to bring for you to sign, place your order now, and shoot me a message here on AUD that you want it hand delivered in Vegas, and I'll make it happen.

Hope to see a bunch of you there!

-Chris

Just a small way for us to thank the folks who choose to buy and wear our merchandise.

Thanks so much everybody, and I hope Uncle Sam spares you a decent return this year.

 

-Chris

To trim down the links at the top of the site, I compiled all of the premium content links down to just one central page where you can access all of the premium content.  Are you a current subscriber?  Awesome!  This should hopefully organize things for your benefit.

If you're not a current subscriber, this will hopefully show you what you're missing, and entice you to send a few bucks our way to get access to it.  We certainly appreciate the cash, as running AUD isn't free, and the amount of work that goes into writing the story and maintaining the site is staggering.

Here's the link to the new page:  http://adriansundeaddiary.com/premium-content.htm

 

In other news, One Last Hurrah is slated for release in the next couple days.  It will be posted on the bottom row of the Nav bars (page already there and awaiting the content), for ten days.  After ten days, it slides over to the premium access only areas of the site, where you'll need to pay to read it all.  So get it while the getting is good.

Hope everyone is enjoying the New Year, and as always, we appreciate all your support!

-Chris

 

My longtime friend, and Elmoryn co-conspirator Alan MacRaffen has announced the release of the first entry in his Tales of Eldrid Cole series.

Eldrid Cole is set in the world of Elmoryn, in a new place, with new characters, and is especially dark, even for fan of AUD and Elmoryn. If you're a fan of AUD or Elmoryn, please make sure you register over on Elmoryn to check this story out. It's sure to please.

Here's a link to where Eldrid Cole will be posted over on Elmoryn.

http://elmoryn.com/the-tales-of-eldrid-cole.htm

In other AUD news, I'm plugging away on One Last Hurrah, and hope to have it wrapped up for the site within a week.  It'll be located under the Thomas Ring header on the nav bar, though I might leave it up and around a bit on its own so it's a little easier to find.  As usual, it'll be publicly available for ten days before reverting to premium content only.

Happy New Year to everyone, and please make sure to celebrate responsibly tonight.  I don't want dead readers, just happy ones.

-Chris

         Lol.

         Mayans are silly.

 

 

         -Adrian

You can also check out his writing at:  http://whatzombiesfear.com/

http://adriansundeaddiary.com/putting-a-name-to-a-face.htm

At the end of the story, take a second to throw us a vote on Top Web Fiction please, as it's always nice to sit atop the poll every once in awhile if you get my drift....  (that's also what she said)

I case you forgot, I'm still running the 20% off sale until Christmas.  Type in bitinthedick in your AUD store cart, and update it to receive 20% off all your order.  Feel free to buy gifts for others, or ask for gifts from us. 

Much love, and after banging out a chapter or two of Elmoryn, I'll be back to writing more of the Fall/Winter schedule.

 

-Chris

I'm working on writing Putting a Name to a Face, but with my wisdom tooth surgery the other day, progress is a bit slow.  It's hard as hell to stay focused on writing when I'm hopped up on painkillers, so bear with me, and I'll get it done as best I can, as fast as I can.

AUD Hats are in stock finally.  I must say, they are sexy as fuck.  Adrian would wear these, and I wore mine all day at work today.  Seriously badass hats.  If you pre-ordered any, they are shipping out Tuesday. 

Between now and Christmas I'm running another sale for all you folks.  Type in bitinthedick on any school store order in the discount field, and you'll get a flat 20% off your entire order.  Hats, shirts, stickers, books, you name it, and it's 20% off.  Get some stuff for yourself or friends for the holidays, or point your loved ones our way so they can get something nice for you.

Plus, surgery ain't free, the semen clinic has shut me off, and I've only got so much blood in me.

Back to work kids, as always, appreciate the support, and thanks so much for all the love.

-Chris

http://adriansundeaddiary.com/ejunkie-test-page-2.htm

 

Elmoryn

The Wrath of the Orphans

Chapter One

A Wretched Affair

 

                “We’re almost out of time.  We need to move faster!”  The young man said, panic ripe in his voice.  He carried a small woman in his thin arms.  Her head hung limp, and the arm not pinned against the man’s chest swung to and fro lifelessly.  She was dead.

                Ahead of him ran his younger sister.  They’d just entered the fringe of the small village their farm was on the outside of.  New Picknell.  Quiet and safe New Picknell.  As the son carried the dead body of his mother at a jog, the smaller sister searched out for the single home that would contain their salvation.  The home of New Picknell’s lone Apostle resident. 

                “Catherine!”  The daughter yelled, her voice cracking from the emotion she’d been expending since her mother’s death. “Catherine we need you!”  They would have to cross the entire town to get to the small farm Catherine’s family lived in.  Theirs was a good sized home still inside the town’s edge, still protected from solitude and the wilds of Elmoryn. 

                A woman stood up from her seat at a washboard, letting the wet laundry slide down into the metal basin.  She saw the siblings running as fast as they could manage, and her face went pale.  She reached down beside the washbasin and produced a mallet.  Her lungs inflated to holler a warning, “Dead body in the city!  Dead body in the city!”  After screaming her warning she clutched the mallet to her chest.  Her anxiety decreasing, she retreated to the safety of her home, where she shut the door, and barred it.

                As the frightened pair ran through the small village the doors of homes either slammed shut, or swung open with an adult standing in the frame.  Everyone was armed, and stared at the body in the boy’s arms.  They feared it.  They feared what it could become.  They feared what it would become if their journey took too long.

                “Catherine!  Catherine!”  The daughter screamed again, losing what was left of her already bruised voice.  Other voices joined her, sharing the tremendous urgency.  The screams of "Catherine!" were nearly deafening by the time they reached the dirt street that ended at the wooden fence that marked the edge of the family farm they had been seeking. 

                “Catherine please, come quick!”  The son yelled, his arms failing.  He had been carrying his dead mother for almost an hour at nearly a sprint, and his young body was well past its limit.

                His voice pierced the home and a black haired woman opened the door.  Her face was calm, reserved, and full of a timeless poise that instantly spread relief to all those in a panic outside her home’s fence.  As she stepped outside her door and walked down the finely laid stone path to the sturdy gate she moved with purpose, and confidence.  Her trip ended just as the daughter and son reached the gate.  The Apostle flipped the latch on the gate and pulled it open, motioning for the son to bring the dead body to a stone bench that was curiously placed just off the stone walkway.  Its purpose was not for sitting.

                “How long has she been gone Nickolas?”  Catherine asked calmly, gathering the fabric of her long cream colored dress to her hip.  The garment flowed in the warm, late summer breeze.  The stink of the dead body hadn’t yet come, and inside the yard the only scent was that of freshly cut grass.

                The young man, Nickolas, panted as he put his mother’s body down on the polished granite slab.  She looked very small and almost stately as he arranged her arms at her side.  “I don’t know.  She was hit by a rotting timber in our barn. It fell on her from the hayloft and struck her dead.  We found her and came running as fast as we could.  The trip here alone was an hour.  She could’ve been dead for a few hours more.”

                “Where is your father?”  Catherine asked in a slow and steady cadence, inspecting the dead body with tender care.  She had done this many times, and this was her way.

                This time, the daughter replied, her voice almost entirely gone now, “He left early yesterday to bring a small harvest to the rails.  He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”  She coughed a dry cough and shed a thick tear down her cheek.

                Catherine winced, “That’s a shame.  He will be heartbroken, as I’m sure you both are.”  She put a reassuring hand on the shoulders of the siblings.  From the other side of the fence the town’s residents that were brave enough to watch had formed a line against the thick wood separating Catherine’s property from the town proper.  Pitchforks, shovels, hammers, and even a few swords and axes were in their hands.  They stared intently at the body on the granite surface just a few feet away. 

                From the front door of her home a brother and sister duo not unlike the ones that had just delivered their dead mother’s body walked out into the yard.  The twins were tall, thin, and had hair black like their mother.  They both shared clear eyes of a striking blue.  They looked on from the step of the home with calm concern.

                Catherine reached out and took the hands of the siblings that were now half orphaned.  “Everyone gathered here please give the spirit of the recently departed Julianne a few moments of silence while I free her soul from the bonds of flesh that bind her.”

                Everyone went silent, and Catherine began the service, her hands still clutching to the brother and sister.

                Head lowered, her silken voice reached out beyond the veil of death, “All life is fragile.  Today we learn that lesson yet again.  The life of Julianne has reached its end, and despite the injustice of her being taken away from the world of the living, her legacy does not end today.”

                Catherine looked up at the body, ensuring it was still on the slab before continuing, “Julianne’s immortal spirit is still within her, and in this moment we shall set her soul free from the body she had in life.  She will roam these plains, and these hills forever, lending support to her friends and families and their descendents for all time.  She shall hear the praise and adoration of the living as if she were still here.  She shall lend Apostles a bit of her very essence, allowing us to perform The Way, and give mystical boons to those we can.  In life she gave love and security, but in death she gives so much more, and she will do this forever.”

                Catherine let go of the sibling’s hands as they slowly wept.  They’d seen the Blessing of Soul’s rest done before, and to complete the ritual, Catherine needed both of her hands.  The mother of three reached into a small pocket on the front of her dress and produced a handmade cloth bag.  She retrieved a tiny vial of scented oil, and sprinkled a minute amount of herbs down the length of Julianne’s dead body.  The herbs and the oil were essential components to the blessing Catherine was performing.  They physically and tangibly bound her will to the act, and enabled her to use the Apostle’s version of The Way, or Elmoryn’s magic.  Catherine’s magic was fueled by her latent talent to access the hundreds of thousands of ancestor spirits roaming the land.  In a few moments, Julianne would join them.

                When the proper number of oil drops had been applied, and the right amount of herbs placed on the right points of the body, Catherine placed her hands on Julianne’s body.  The intimate connection of Apostle and body signaled the final moments of the blessing.  Catherine reached out of her own body and soul, and into the body of the deceased woman.  It was not unlike opening a metaphysical cage, and setting free a bird kept within.  Her hands never moved, but behind her closed eyes she felt Julianne’s body shudder briefly as her spirit was set free.  Her soul would not rot and fester in her body.  She would not become the undead everyone gathered feared. 

                She took her warm fingers from the now cooling body and reached her full height.  The young girl still wept, but when Catherine embraced her, she calmed quickly, feeling the relief the blessing had given them.  The crowd gathered gave a quiet round of clapping as the tension faded from the afternoon.  They filtered out quickly, letting the family grieve in privacy.

                “Thank you,” Nickolas said.

                Catherine smiled warmly, “You are very welcome.  We can store the body until your father arrives, give you time to gather wood for her pyre.”  Cremated bodies couldn’t be animated by rogue Necromancers, no matter how unlikely the chance of that happening was.  Tradition was tradition after all, and since The Great Plague almost eradicated all human life from the face of Elmoryn three hundred years ago, all bodies were cremated.

                “Thank you.”

                “You’re welcome.  I’ll have Malwynn and Umaryn help with your mother’s body.  In the meantime, head over to Jalen and Naomi’s over there, and let them know what’s happened.  They’ll take care of you until your father returns.”

                “Thank you Catherine.  My mother would thank you as well,” Nick said softly, taking his little sister under his arm.

                “With any luck I’ll cross paths with her spirit, and she can thank me herself.  I’m glad you made it here in time.”

                Nickolas could only nod.  The thought of not making it to the Apostle in time was too much to contemplate.

 

 

*****

 

 

                A gentle gust of wind blew across the crest of the rolling hill just a few miles north of the village of New Picknell.  The slender blades of bright green grass waved to and fro, tossed whimsically in the sweet air of the Elmoryn summer.  Summer here in northern Varrland came late, and lasted only a precious couple months.  The tiny shoots of grass grew quickly and robustly, living their simply lives to the fullest until the cold and snow came for the long winter that would surely bury them, cutting them off from the life giving sun they grew tall to touch.

                The next day Catherine’s eldest children walked side by side.  The brother and sister strode slowly beside each other under the late season’s sun.  The brother stood only an inch taller than his sister, and both walked proudly with raven black hair.  Slung over his wiry shoulder was a bow that had seen ample use over the past decade.  A simple bow, one made to learn and hunt easy prey with, the bow was present more for comfort than for purpose. The quiver at his hip held only a handful of arrows.  The sister, lean and strong walked with no weapons.  Her bright blue eyes, the same as her sibling’s searched the expansive green fields in every direction, looking for something interesting to break the monotony of a quiet day that youth never seemed to find the ability to appreciate fully.  The prior day’s excitement had already been forgotten.

                “How’s the forge been?” Malwynn asked his sister.  It was the first thing either of the two had said since leaving their small town.  Comfortable silence was their way.

                “Hot.  It’s quite the job.  I am very excited for when Luther teaches me more advanced techniques soon.  I think I’m just as excited for when the colder weather sets in.  It’ll make the forge considerably more comfortable,” the sister replied. 

                Malwynn looked to his sister Umaryn and smiled proudly.  Much like their mother, she was blessed with a rare ability, and had taken a different route than most of the woman in his village, as well as the majority of women across their country of Varrland.  Umaryn was spirit touched. 

                The world of Elmoryn was bursting at the seams with life and energy.  Some gifted individuals were blessed with the gift of being able to hear and reach out to the spirits of the dead, gaining insight and power, channeling the very souls of the ancestors into mystical power.  Others touched by the spirits were able to connect their own essence to the things that men and women had created.  Across Elmoryn all crafted items, especially those of particular quality contained a smidge of spiritual energy, and Umaryn could speak to those spirits, and channel the energy inside into her own mystical talents.

                People more experienced with these mystical energies called them The Way.  It was said those with the gift to manipulate the many different energies of Elmoryn were said to know The Way.  Umaryn was developing her skills with the spirits of the things made by man working in the forge, and eschewing the traditional roles a girl of their age took.  She’d make no bread for the man that captured her heart, but she might fashion him a blade of tempered steel that would sing a song that could show him her love. 

                Malwynn had developed no such talent in The Way.  He had managed to become a decent shot with the simple bow hanging on his shoulder, and had earned his father’s respect by working hard in the family fields.  Malwynn and Umaryn’s family was small and tightly knit together.  Their mother and father had traveled widely across Varrland and neighboring Duulan for many years, and their experiences had left them yearning for a quiet, safe place to raise their family.  New Picknell had sufficed.

                Ellioth, the patriarch of the family was a retired scholar, and veteran adventurer.  Ellioth had notable skill in wielding a blade and wearing armor, and coupled with his passionate love for discovery he’d made a good living searching out treasures lost in the various wildernesses across Elmoryn.  Ellioth was one of the few still living souls that had traveled deep into the Eastern Wilds far to the south.  That savage, wild region was known the world over as a one way adventure, filled with death, failure, and sorrow.  Ellioth had escaped the monsters and natural threats of the Eastern Wilds with tales that would turn the halest man pale white.

                Catherine, mother of Malwynn and Umaryn had met Ellioth at the Cathedral in Daris where she had worked and lived.  The central home of the Church of Souls in Varrland, the Cathedral of Kincaid was a massive nexus of religious energy and population.  Catherine was an Apostle, a reasonably skilled user of The Way, and servant of the spirits of the ancestors that roamed Elmoryn.  After meeting Ellioth, falling deeply in love, and becoming pregnant with the twins, the couple moved to New Picknell where Catherine took over as the most senior Apostle at the modest church in town.  Catherine attended to the births, deaths, healing the sick and wounded, and most importantly, consecrating the bodies of the dead.

                The most sacred of all duties an Apostle can perform is the consecration of the dead.  It is so important to the Church of Souls, and the very survival of humanity on Elmoryn that it is the first spell taught to Apostles once their gift and devotion is revealed.  Everyone on Elmoryn knew what happened to a body left unconsecrated too long… Malwynn’s mind drifted back to how close they had been to tragedy yesterday with Julianne’s death.  A few minutes more, and the entire village might’ve been in danger.

                “Are the fields ready for harvest?” Umaryn asked idly.  In truth she wasn’t interested, but she and her twin brother had been sharing these long walks since the two could walk, and this was their way.

                “Almost.  Another month and a half.  You know you could ask me the real question you want to.  I don’t mind.”  Malwynn said with a wry smile, reading his sister’s mind.

                Umaryn’s eyes lit up with restrained excitement.  “I didn’t want to pry.  How are you and Marissa doing?  Are we ready for the thought of marriage?  Will I be Aunt Umaryn soon?”

                Malwynn almost blushed, the skin of his thin, pale white cheeks taking on a faint redness.  “Ha.  You’re terribly funny.  I can’t speak to children in the near future, or your ability to be an Aunt to them, but I can comfortably say that by the harvest, I think I’ll go to her family and ask their permission for her hand in marriage.”

                Umaryn giggled ferociously and took her brother’s arm, shaking it happily. “Oh I’m so happy for you two!  Just imagine it.  Malwynn the husband, Malwynn the father. Mom and Dad will just be overwhelmed with joy.  Imagine little Rynne being an Aunt too.  She’ll beam!”

                Rynne was their little sister, just ten winters of age.  She shared the same midnight black hair and blue eyes as the twins.  In just a few more years, she’d be the target of every teenage boy suitor in New Picknell.

                “I’m sure she’ll be just smitten with the idea of being an aunt.  However… I need to find the courage you seem to have in abundance, and find the nerve to ask her parents for her hand first.  I’m sure I’ll manage.  Try not to tell mom and dad though.  I’m still waiting a bit longer.”

                Umaryn beamed, “Not a problem.  I’m happy you’ve trusted me with this little secret.  It makes me feel very special.”  The last bit was delivered with thick sarcasm.

                “Mmhm.  I’m sure you feel like the most important person in the worl-“ Malwynn stopped mid word, looking over the crest of a hill a half minute’s jog ahead.  “Did you hear that?”  The tall, young man’s eyed narrowed as he scanned the hill ahead.

                Umaryn pointed her eyes at the same spot her brother was investigating, listening intently, trying to sense what he’d sensed.  She saw and heard nothing.  “I hear nothing.  Too much time with the wheat?  Not enough time with Marissa has you hearing things eh?”

                “I’m telling you, something is happening over that hill.  I swear to the ancestors I heard metal on metal.  Swords clashing.  You’re telling me the artificer in the family can’t sense two forged items making noise nearby?  Come.  I want to see what’s ahead.” 

                Umaryn’s eyes narrowed at Malwynn’s stinging insult, but she followed him as he took off running towards his goal.  Sometimes he was infuriating.

                But brothers can be that way.

 

 

*****

 

 

                Umaryn, always the faster and stronger of the siblings pulled ahead as they ran, cresting the hill and seeing the other side many seconds before her thinner, weaker brother.  As she slowed her gait and took in the spectacle before her, the fresh summer air in her lungs turned stale.  The coppery stench of raw spilled blood turned her belly sour.

                Malwynn reached the peak of the grassy green slope and immediately put his hands on his knees, oblivious to the smell of blood and clamor below.  A rapid trio of heavy puffs refilled his empty lungs, and he stood fully, immediately matching his sister’s awestruck expression.

                War had come to New Picknell.

                Evidence showed the battle had only just begun; there were but a few slain bodies on the ground.  One man was freshly murdered.  His was clad in sturdy leather armor and wore a white and red tunic over it.  He had been attacked at the face and neck, and his armor had failed him.  His lifeblood was spilled across a swath of the grass in long jets.  His arteries had ejected his blood forcefully.  His death had been savage, but quick.  Two other bodies wore the unmistakable purple collars of the Amaranth Empire to the far north.  The dark purple indicated that the defeated were undead in the control of one of the Queen’s Necromancers.  If there were two destroyed undead nearby…

                The necromancer was adorned in a rich purple robe that told of his importance in his home nation.  In Amaranth the color purple could only be worn by those in service to the Queen, to wear it without her consent was a death sentence.  Under the dark folds of rich cloth he was covered from head to toe in what appeared to be plates of thick carved bone.  He wore it like a massive petrified insect might wear their shell.  He wielded a wicked looking mace in his left hand, heavy and threatening in its blunt power.  His true weapon was his bare right hand.  The touch of a necromancer often carried the brutal necrotic power of their dark magic.  The necromancer himself was mounted on a Gvorn.  Gvorn were rare here in the rural areas of New Picknell.  They were natural to the far north, and were massive war and pack beasts.  Each Gvorn stood as tall as a war horse, but had a powerful set of horns that mimicked a ram.  They had thick wool as well that protected them from the snow, ice, and frigid winds.  The Gvorn the purple robed necromancer rode was grey like the winter sky, and had a thick coat of wool.  This mount had brought him here from deep in the Amaranth Empire.  Possibly from as far as the capital necropolis of Graben.

                The necromancer was engaged in mortal combat with a man mounted on a Gvorn that dwarfed his.  This rugged beast was a full hand higher than the necromancer’s and had been shorn of most of its heavy coat, revealing the dark grey skin beneath.  Only a Gvorn from the south would be shaved that way.  The man held a rugged shield with the crest of Varrland, and wore dark white and crimson robes over a suit of chain and plate mail.  He wore no helm, and his long salt and pepper hair was tied back in a ponytail.  It tossed violently about as he swung a gleaming steel long sword at the death mage on the opposing Gvorn.  The blade bit into the shoulder of the wizard, cutting a chunk of the bone plate away, and tossing his body nearly out of the saddle. 

                “Arrgh!”  He spat at the knight. 

                “Invader scum!  I’ll send you back to your bitch Queen in an urn!”  The knight’s breath was strong.  He was barely breaking a sweat in the battle.

                At the feet of his massive mount were the rest of the two opposing forces.  Things were precarious for the Varrland forces.  They were clearly outmatched in numbers.  Still standing and violent were a full half score of undead.  Their skin was pale grey, the rotting arrested by foul Amaranth magic.  They lashed out at half a dozen men similar to the man missing his throat.  They slashed out with short swords and decimating fingers that terminated in ragged yellow fingernails.  Fortunately the undead were mindless automatons, attacking with only the barest of skill and instinct.

                The worst situation was a trio engaged in battle a few horse lengths past the necromancer and knight.  Malwynn and Umaryn clutched hands nervously at the crest of the hill as they watched the fatal dance play out.  Two men wearing light armor, heavy cloaks edged in a purple fringe, wielding long and wickedly curved battle axes circled a younger man separated from his group.  He could be only a few years older than the twins; no more than three winters, maybe four.  He had short dark hair, shaved to only the thickness of the razor that cut it.  Like the knight riding the Gvorn still battling with the necromancer he wore heavier armor; chain mixed with plate.  Instead of the long sword the knight clearly was expert with, the younger man used a warhammer.  It was long, almost the length of a grown man’s leg, and had a wicked spike opposite a heavy, hardened steel head.  Umaryn admired the weapon’s elegant simplicity as he spun it in deadly circles, hand to hand.  The weapon’s balance must have been near-perfect.

                Unfortunately, the martial display was just that; all for show, and not for purpose.  The young warrior was simply buying time until help could arrive.  The two axe wielding assailants quickly had him turned sideways and flanked as he spun his weapon.  Finally, after several long, agonizing seconds, the solitary warrior made his move.  He looked to one of the two purple cloaked men and suddenly brought the head of his hammer up lightning fast at the other.  His eyes bought him hesitation from the man he struck in the face, but he twisted just a few inches too far, and gave his back up for just a few seconds too long.  As the Amaranth soldier fell to the grass with his face broken apart by the hammer his cohort struck the Varrland warrior.  The foot long smile of the axe slashed down powerfully at the simple chain right beside the red and white clad warrior’s kidneys.  Despite the rings of forged steel, the incredible force of the impact ruptured the flesh beneath, sending the man to his knees.

                Malwynn’s mind suddenly unfroze, and he slipped his bow from his shoulder as the Amaranth warrior raised his axe for the killing blow.  Umaryn watched her brother slip an arrow free from his quiver and let it fly.  Spinning like a dervish the arrow flew true, past the knight’s mount only an inch from the creature’s heavy wool coat, and directly into the shoulder of the cloaked invader.  The man’s hand reflexively gave way as his downward axe stroke fell harmlessly to the side.  He looked savagely towards the twins, his glance threatening them.  As Malwynn drew another arrow the Amaranth warrior resorted to a weapon that was still effective: his boots.  He kicked the wounded warrior in the back of the skull and flattened his body in the blood stained grass.  The warrior lay still as the Amaranth soldier with the arrow lodged in his shoulder came running across the melee at the twins.  They had only a few seconds before he’d be up the slope and upon them.

                The purple robed necromancer shrieked in joy as the warrior fell, taking his eyes off the knight almost as if a powerful narcotic was taking over his mind.  As they watched the murderous Amaranth soldier charge their position the knight capitalized on the necromancer’s exultation.  His Gvorn spun round at his command, putting his sword hand a foot closer to the foreign death mage, and he lunged forward, piercing the bone armor under the cloak in a weak location.  The smooth blade penetrated the morbid bone armor with a strong thrust, and the necromancer’s high was quickly brought down to earth.  He looked over from the fallen Varrlander man to the knight who urged his Gvorn forward, plunging the blade even further in.  The necromancer coughed a thick wad of dark blood, and the knight yanked his sword free.  His arm cocked back, and he sent a mailed fist into the jaw of the evil wizard, knocking him off the ghostly grey Gvorn.  Umaryn and Malwynn watched as the necromancer’s neck twisted disturbingly to the side as he crunched into the ground.  His body settled in a manner that planted his dead face into the grass.  As his body shuddered the remainder of life inside it, and his throat released the final breath ever taken in, the armor that encased his body suddenly faded from reality.  In death, the necromancer’s magic faded.

                Their attention switched back to the man almost upon them.  Malwynn had another arrow ready and was drawing the string to launch it as the man hefted his axe upwards with his good arm.  Umaryn, ever the clever one, stepped instinctively to the side of the man, flanking him almost exactly as the two Amaranth warriors had flanked the Varrlander.  Malwynn’s fingers opened, and the arrow bolted off into the chest of their attacker, piercing the chainmail.  The arrow didn’t go far though, the chain was of good quality, and Mal had not drawn the string fully.  Nonetheless the arrow staggered the rage faced man, and Umaryn struck.  She had produced a small hammer from somewhere, Malwynn didn’t know from where, nor did he care.  She snarled and sent the hammer at the rear of the man’s head with a backhanded stroke.  The forge tool crunched into the base of his skull and Malwynn watched the man’s eyes roll to the whites instantly.  He fell down at their feet and twitched several times as the life left his body.

                “Finish them!”  The knight hollered in his confident baritone.  The remaining Varrlander foot soldiers had managed to quell the undead threat with their superior blades and dexterity.  The undead were a powerful threat to the common folk, but to armed and armored soldiers, it would take many of the animated dead to be a true threat.  Many, or more powerful kinds.  As the last undead had its head separated from its body the knight brought his massive war beast over to the twins, clearly surprised at their presence.  He had already cleaned and sheathed his blade, and with a silk cloth in his free hand he was wiping away the spatters of fresh Amaranth blood from his face.  He stopped his mount a few paces from the panting, adrenaline crashing twins.

                “What brought you two out to such a remote place today?  If it weren’t for your participation against the Queen’s insurgents I’d suggest you were their allies.  Are you locals?”  He asked, his tone somewhat thankful.

                Umaryn answered.  She was calmer than her brother, “Yes… We are from New Picknell, several miles to the south east of here.  We’d had a challenging day and wanted a quiet walk.”

                The knight smiled, “Not what you expected.”

                The twins shook their heads, taking in the carnage and devastation the fight had unleashed.  It was as if a bloody sore had appeared out of the ether, and spewed forth dead bodies, and sadness.

                “Boy, what is your name?  You’ve some skill with that bow.”

                Malwynn was lost in his thoughts and frayed emotions, but gathered himself, “I am Malwynn sir.  And I’ve little skill with this bow.  An ancestor guided my actions, no doubt.  This is my twin sister Umaryn.”

                “Greetings to you both Malwynn and Umaryn.  Your family resemblance is quite strong.  My name is Knight Captain Marcus Gray,” the knight said with a smile before continuing.  “The dead only assist those worthy of helping Malwynn.  Your skill is not to be left out of the equation son.  I thank you for joining the fight against the Amaranthines here.  You nearly saved Chael’s life.  I’m sad to see an Apostle go.  Do you know where there might be another Apostle?  Is there one by chance in New Picknell?”

                The two siblings were floored.  They’d watched an Apostle die.  Malwynn was the first to speak, “Our mother is an Apostle.  Chael was his name?  We didn’t know he was an Apostle.  I’m... I’m sorry we didn’t save him.  I wish I’d drawn my bow a moment earlier.”

                The knight dismissed his apology with a sad shake of his head, “He was a warrior too, and when you take your faith to the front lines, you may die for it.  He knew the risk and continued forth.  He was a good man and died a good death.  But now we must ensure that he does not become what he hated so.  Can you show us to your mother?  We have dead to attend to, and she seems to be our source for the Blessing of Soul’s rest.”

                Umaryn and Malwynn nodded simultaneously, as they often did.  Together, the Varrlanders gathered up the bodies that needed their souls set free, and they set off back to New Picknell. 

                Quiet, and safe New Picknell.

I hope you're enjoying the first release of the Fall/Winter schedule, The Truck.  Eddie is a pretty fun character that's been living in my head for awhile now, and it's nice to get him out on paper, and into the real world where he can get into your head too.  Eddie's journey as he heads to Bastion will be filled with lots of interesting story, and I hope you all enjoy it.   More releases on the schedule soon though I do need to get my wisdom teeth yanked here (long overdue), so I'll be out of commission in a couple weeks, for a few days.  If I'm coherent, it'll be great, as I'll be sitting and writing.  If not...  Oh well.

In other exciting news, AUD officially turns two on October 23rd, the day Joe and I launched the site.  I might be doing a special discount code on that day for subscribers, so check Hall E in the forums as we get closer.

I made us a hat!  Well, Mike Dodrill and I made us a hat.  Here's the art:

I really thought folks would appreciate a sports logo esque khaki hat after Mike did this piece of fan art, and he's been gracious enough to share it with me so I could get it made.  Everyone thank Mike.

Hats are $15 as a pre-order, and will be in my hands roughly the first week of November to ship out to you guys.  If you' like your hat signed, I can easily toss a signature on the underside, or top of the brim if you'd like.

Here's a link:  http://adriansundeaddiary.com/aud-cap.htm

I hope everyone is enjoying their run up to Halloween, as well as the new season of The Walking Dead.  I'm looking forward to sharing more here as well as on Elmoryn.  Speaking of which, we're almost at chapter nine over there, and the story is getting thick with intrigue and backstabbing.  Check it out if you haven't already please.  http://elmoryn.com/

Best wishes, etc so forth and whatnot.  Also, thanks for all the support folks!

 

-Chris

I wanted to toss a quick post up today as a thanks to a couple of friends of AUD.  The guys on Facebook over at Zombie Apocalypse Preparations have been solid supporters of AUD almost since the start, and have been good friends to Joe and I to boot.  Their book, How to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse, and Have Fun While Doing It, is available, and if you like AUD, you will certainly enjoy it.

Click this link to snag it on Amazon.  It'll put a buck or two in their pocket, as well as ours here, as it's a referral link.  Support two great genre authors in one fell swoop.  Don't forget, Christmas is coming, and we're still running a 25% off sale in our School Store here.  Just type in; bitinthedick in your discount code area on the shopping cart, update it, and your price drops like frigging magic.

Thanks again everyone, much love, and keep your eyes peeled for more side fictions from the Fall/Winter releases, as well as possible entries from Adrian or Abby.  Oh, and don't forget...  I also write Elmoryn too.

 

 

-Chris

                It's been a long time, eh? 

                I've been fighting the urge to sit down at this laptop and crank out something here in this word processor for some time now.  It's hard, amazingly so.  So very long I sat with this little remnant of technology in front of me and swore and swore about how much I hated it, and all the time it took from my life, and how much of a burden it was, and all that horseshit.

                But sitting here, putting words back on this strange, electronic white page, I feel good.  A little guilty that I'm not doing the things that have taken over my life of late, but still, I feel good. 

                There's a LOT to cover Mr. Journal.  I know I won't remember it all, but I'll write what comes to mind, and hopefully that's enough for you to feel less alone, sans all the love Abby has hopefully been sending your way.

                Speaking of which, I sincerely hope that she has been writing.  I initially handed my laptop (this laptop) to her in the hopes she'd just take over and keep writing.  Making files one after another like I did, but after a few days, she handed me this machine back and was all like, "Thanks Adrian, but I'll use my laptop."

                I caught of whiff... of arrogance.  I think she's a Mac user.  Nothing against Mac users, but they frequently have an air of elitism that makes me want to fist them.  You use a computer, just like I do, now get over the make and model and just use the damn thing.  Or I get the Ben Gay.

                Funny to say "You use a computer just like I do."

                We... don't really use computers at all.  Lots and lots of writing by hand.  Graph paper has become a staple here at Bastion.  We use it for everything it seems.  The only computer use is the security systems, and the few folks that absolutely NEED to use a computer to play a game or whatnot.  I wonder how many more people here at Bastion are writing journals just like me?  I'd bet quite a few.

                Let's talk next about basic logistics, supplies, and needs as we head closer and closer to another winter.  Winter scares us a lot.  Despite us doing very well on food and general supplies, staying warm, and ensuring that our food harvest lasts will keep us up late no matter what.  I think from here on out, for a very long time winters will be very scary.  Fighting zombies was one thing, but waging war against mother nature is an entirely different matter altogether.  I'm glad now we are only fighting one at a time.  We have accomplished a few things to make our live a lot more tolerable though.

                Not long after my last entry, and our shit visit to the city, things have settled down appreciably.  The biggest change of all is the entire lack of undead anywhere.  No zombies, anywhere to be seen.  When I put a bullet through Cassie's head, forgive me, they all dropped to the ground, and that was it.  Like a fucking switch got turned off.  We've seen none since, which has been a real frigging blessing.  Life has gotten much easier, and moving around and finding salvaged goods is now a commonplace, easy task to accomplish.

                Going house to house still requires increased vigilance over what I'd describe as pre-zombie days.  Not as much as when the living dead were out and about, but still more than "usual."  We're more worried about bumping into new survivors, and dealing with rot, and subsequent disease.

                Yeah, rot.  I think we're largely past the worst of it now, but initially in March through about late May, we were absolutely fucking overwhelmed by the quantity of dead bodies that suddenly started rotting all over.  Do you remember when I said that the undead weren't rotting?  I think while animated they had something to them that prevented the vast majority of decay from kicking in.  I think that same property kept them from freezing solid all winter too.  That same property also prevented the spread of disease off of their corpses as well.  Remember the stories of how the second massive waves of death came from the spread of disease?  Well, we were fortunate enough to dodge deaths from sickness, but I'm sure across the world others weren't as lucky as us.

                When they all dropped dead though, shazam, rot, decay, pestilence, you name it all came back with a motherfucking vengeance.  Houses were beyond horrid.  The City was entirely off limits the entire summer.  A self imposed quarantine.  We've only just this week started braving the edge of it again.  Our friends over at Spring Meadows have been huge in getting supplies gathered from that edge of the City.  Everyone over at the Factory has been a godsend as well.  They're in a far more industrial region of town, and with their access to factories and raw materials that previously weren't really an option, we've been able to accomplish far more in the way of technological... recovery.

                We got exceptionally lucky mid June when the Factory people encountered a trio of fellow survivors nearby.  They met on friendly terms, and after a week of staying touch, the new folks moved into a building down the street, then finally into the Factory itself.  Two of the three are here at Bastion now.

                The two we have here are a husband and wife in their mid fifties.  Fletcher and Annie Thomas.  Fletcher was a veterinarian before the end, and Annie worked at a magnet company.  She has a degree in electrical engineering.  They were on vacation visiting some relatives in this neck of the woods when the shit hit the fan.  Fletcher has added considerable experience to our medical capabilities, as well as to Ollie and Melissa's farming ventures.  Our cows will be much better off, as are our chickens, our six goats, eleven sheep, and the three horses we've managed to find running wild.  They're a very nice addition to our transportation needs, though I'm still too scared to ride one of them.

                Horses scare me.  Call me a pussy.  I dare you.

                Annie has a lot of good, basic electrical and engineering experience.  She's done a shitload of research into bio diesel, and we're already several months into her building a substantial bio diesel plant in one of the staff houses in the ass end of campus.  It's not technically in the house per se, but at the house, and the house is her office.  We've spent half our damn efforts scouring the world around us for all the materials she needs to get it going.

                But she assures me that by Halloween, we'll be in production of bio diesel.  The fuel truck that Kevin and company brought with them has been an incredible boon clearly, as has all the other fuel sources we've been able to acquire, but it's getting lower and lower faster and faster due to our increased travels to acquire shit here and there, especially seeing how we're moving much further than home than ever before.  I can't even begin to describe to you how incredible it was for us to hit the City library, and pillage it for science texts. 

                Reminder: winter is coming.

                Bio diesel will solve our fuel problem for the vehicles, as well as our fuel issues for the generators for the different dorms.  Annie has been helpful converting them over.  Plus, we were able to hit the DOTs in the surrounding larger towns, and get our hands on the industrial generators, which luckily enough ran on diesel already.  I don't understand the science of it all but things are working out.  She also has plans to build us a hydroelectric generator on the river, but that will be several years of work, and we haven't even begun that yet.  I'm excited for the future, and that has been a very long time coming.

                Speaking of bio diesel and Ollie, we've increased our food production.  Well, fuel production.  Ollie has put effort into translating a large amount of our available farming area, especially that area outside the Bastion walls to growing soybeans.  They have great nutritional value, and they are one of the more efficient plants to turn into bio fuel, so Annie and several texts on the matter say.  Ollie has ZERO experience growing soybeans though, so I imagine this will be trial and error for a season or two while he gets things ironed out.

                In addition to the soybeans, the simple fact that we have all the available farming land now available to us, means we've expanded our fields.  We planted a fucking TON of corn this year, as well as squash, pumpkins, zucchini, lettuce, cabbage, etc.  Our barn here at Bastion wasn't nearly large enough for all our animals too, so we moved the lambs and goats to the barn on Jones Road.  We are eating well, and are canning a lot too.  I think we will have enough food to last winter, but with all the new mouths to feed…

                Thirty new in total here at Bastion, twelve at the Factory, and six at Spring Meadow.  Without going into excessive and needless detail, we're now using all the dorms here, and they've all been upgraded with wood stoves, as well as fresh generators.  I simply cannot overstate how much easier it is to get around and find things when the threat of attack by zombies is nil or next to it.  Right now we get more excited when we find a gallon of bleach than when we find boxes of ammunition.

                That's not to say we haven't had our dangerous encounters.  I'd say every three weeks or so we're shot at as we move about.  We've run into two small settlements that I'd describe as being "openly disinterested" in any kind of contact from us.  One is set up at an old junkyard, and numbers somewhere between fifteen and thirty, and the other is based out of a large National Guard base.  Not sure what their headcount is, but I'm guessing it is around twenty.  Their building isn't that big, and our recon shows they have fairly small fields for food growing.  They're in opposite directions, and are approximately an hour's drive away.

                Both encounters were nearly the same.  We rolled in with our travel group of humvees and box truck or military tow truck, and immediately warning shots come across our way.  We stopped, took up defensive positions, identified the source of fire, and as we were about to return it, they yelled at us to leave, and we yelled back.  Luckily, enough diplomacy happened at both places that no one got hurt, but we've been ice cold ever since.  We send a small patrol to both places every month to touch base to make sure all is well, but that's the extent of it.  We stay on top of our defenses, ensure that all adults are either armed, or capable to use a firearm quickly, and god help them if they come for us.  Our anger has diminished, but our accuracy has not.

                Our new people are from all over.  We've actually lost ten of the existing folks from Bastion that you knew about, and we've picked up forty, hence the +30 number.  As folks leave and encounter new people, they are spreading the word of Bastion and all that we offer, and some of those who hear of us, are coming.  We offer a considerable place to stay, and all you have to do is hold up your end of the work.  Heartwarming and shit.

                What else?  I've got a million things to write down here and I can't quite focus enough to hit the bigguns.  No one has died here since March.  NO ONE.  We've been lucky.  Beyond lucky really if you spend any time thinking about it.

                Babies!  Ollie and Melissa are pregnant again.  They're due sometime in February, I think.  Patty and Mike are trying to have a baby, once openly in the Hall E common room at night (much to my dismay) but the age issue keeps coming up.  Blake and Kim are expecting again, and their turd drops sometime around Christmas.  I'm fairly certain that Abby and Harold are only months away from announcing their conception too.  Abby asked me one day if it would be weird if she asked Harold to name a potential son Gavin.  I told her that man deserved a child named after him, and if she wanted, I'd talk to Harold about it.  She smiled, and that was the end of it. 

                Two couples in the new forty are due as well, one within a few weeks, and the other in about two months.  If all goes well, we'll be plus four more little bouncing bundles of vomit, poop and tears.

                I mean that in a good way.

                Michelle and I are not expecting, despite our attempts to the contrary.  We stopped using protection a few months ago, mostly due to the fact that there is a rather dwindling supply of condoms out there.  Michelle isn't getting any younger, nor am I, and we figure of all the couples that are out there in the world, we're about as good as any to have a baby.

                Mr. Journal, I think I love her.  I can say that pretty comfortably today, many, many months after the whole Cassie thing.  I think I was starting to love her before then too, but denial slows things down, and if anything, I'm stubborn as fuck.

                Yeah I love her.  It's good.

                Not sure what else to say here.  School is going great, the farm is growing things as fast as could be expected, our cows are good, the chickens are laying eggs, there are no zombies around, and the assholes that are still living are doing a good job of not killing us at will.  I spend all my days working on building a large second barn here for our animals.  It's near the first barn we built last year, and I've got a great tan to show for all my work.  We should be done with the new stables sometime in late October, barring setbacks.  I said that strictly for the Jinx Fairy.  I'm on to you, you lousy bitch.

                It's not all bad.

 

                Finally.

 

                Maybe I'll post again soon when the urge strikes me.  This was nice.

 

                -Adrian

Hell Gauge stickers are now here, and in stock.  They're 2.5" gloss paper stickers, and they're 3 for $4, or 9 for $9.  Not too bad.

If you'd like to send us a few bucks to keep the engine running this is a neat way to do it. 

 

Also, I'll be putting a poll up in the near future with my narrowed down choices of additional side fictions you folks want written.  I'm stoked about writing two or three more in the next few months for your reading pleasure, and I'd like your feedback on what you want to see.  Keep your eyes peeled.

Appreciate the support as always, and if you're looking for something to read, make sure you check out Elmoryn.

 

-Chris

http://elmoryn.com/death-is-not-the-end-shirt.htm