The Veil War

Chapter 36 is here, and here is the end of this part of our tale.

“Your family’s mostly in Alabama, right?” Coleman asked.

“Far enough from the Veil for now, yeah. For now. Chicago, New York, Washington… Boston’s holding out, I heard. But they were farther away. The whole middle of the country is fucking gone. Fuck, dude, the goblins are camping on the Mall in DC. How do you come back from that?”

According to my calculations, Lewis’ story runs to 94,321 words. The bonus chapter next week will take us to within a loud shout of 100k. That, I believe, is a respectable amount of fiction. By weight at least, it’s a novel. I’d like to thank all of you for reading, and I can say in all honesty that your participation in this project made it far better than it would have otherwise. Thank you.

(And as always, point out errors and the like in the comments. )

Chapter Thirty-Five is up, and we are now one week from the end. One week!

The Prince spoke in Occitan. Father Pietr did not provide a translation. Prince Raimond removed the armored gauntlet from his right hand and handed it to the priestmonk. He stepped up and slapped Lewis full in the face. Lewis’ head snapped to the right. Fuck, that hurt! He stifled the urge to curse, and his tired legs almost betrayed him. He managed to remain standing, barely.

As always, feel free to point out any errors and screw-ups in the comments. Thanks for reading!

It is, once again, that most treasured time of the year: Veil War Thursday. Chapter 34 is now come into the world, and is awaiting your attention.

“No!” he screamed. He ran toward the fire, icon tucked under his left arm like a football and axe in his right. Like the bow wave of a speedboat, the icon pushed the serpents back as he charged. He slowed; he was running through molasses. The resistance of the mystical barrier or the palpable evil of the serpents fire pushing him back. Kimball dug in, felt pain in his legs and arms as he pushed through. Agony arced down every nerve, and he screamed again, wordlessly.

He fell to the ground when the wall collapsed. The icon flared golden-white and the serpents were blown to wisps of fog, and dispersed. Another goblin summoner dropped, gripping his head in both hands and crying out in agony.

Remember your duty to catch my mistakes and trumpet them in the comments!

Actually, just kidding. It’s Thursday, and that means Veil War. Chapter 33 is up, so read and enjoy.

Van Buskirk staggered back to his feet. He checked behind, the flag still flew. The men still held the line. Two crusader knights leapt over the heads of his soldiers to land right in the midst of the advancing goblins. Five seconds of pirouetting death dealing and they leapt back to the comparative safety of van Buskirk’s line, leaving dozens of goblins dead and momentarily slowing the assault. Momentarily.

Ever and as always, use the comments to demonstrate your superior knowledge of spelling, grammar and usage. Thanks for reading!

Or chapter 2^5 as we like to call it around here. The long delay has been probably even more frustrating for me than you, though the threats of bodily injury if I didn’t finish were both touching and scary. So, here’s your traditional teaser:

Bolts of actinic fire rained down from Archimandrite John’s fiery apparition, and his eyes glowed with the power coursing through his body. The apprentices looked like shadow boxers, but were more lethal by far. The force they projected crumpled enchanted armor like tin foil, threw trolls from the line like rag dolls. Their breath came hard, Lewis could hear them rasp as they fought to inhale. The strain was incredible and Lewis through the agency of his sword could feel reality twist and curl around them as they focused that force.

I know it’s been a while, but remember you are encouraged to point out flaws, errors and outright mistakes in the comments. Thanks for reading, and for putting up with the unavoidable delays imposed by my silly need to have an income.

That’s what I like to tell myself, anyway. I accept full responsibility; but not the blame. I’ve done a lot of rewriting of this and the next couple chapters, and I think you’ll like the way it goes.

So, go read Chapter 31. And your traditional teaser:

Father John strode toward the enemy; a nimbus of light, like a sapphire, formed around his head and fingers of subtle fire danced in his hands. His beard stood on end, a Byzantine John Brown ready to smite his foes. His face looked tired and worn, but determined; his jaw set and eyes sharp.

Remember to comment. Comments are your way to prove that someone is wrong on the internet – and we can’t have that, can we?

Not that there’s any bewbs in it. Chapter 30 is up, in any event, you can read it here. Teaser:

Lewis laughed. “Siegfried might like it. I doubt the good fathers would.”

“I know, right? I can get my head around magical powered armor, and ginsu swords. I’ve seen enough CGI wizards in movies and shit that even that crazy pillar of fiery death didn’t even trip me up. Fucking cool, actually. But these priests, they’re as serious as Father Basil ever was back in Detroit. But Father Basil couldn’t blow shit up with his mind. Not that I ever saw, anyway.

A gentle reminder: use the comments to praise, vilify, correct and suggest. Your feedback is welcomed. Nay! Cherished!

It’s Veil War Thursday, and I’ve been so busy writing that I almost forgot to post the chapter. That would have been an enormous fail, seeing as it’s been written for a good while now. You can dive right in and read it here. Your traditional teaser:

“Are you fucking crazy? Lewis, your men are going to be ones with their dicks in the meat grinder.”

For the first time, some emotion leaked into his voice, “I know. You get mobile and make it worth our while.”

“Captain, I think I’ve got an idea.”

And as always, use the comments to point out the error of my mistake, or to lavish me with praise.

Actually, the fire was last chapter but it sounded cool. Chapter 28 can be read here.

Lewis raised his sword. For a moment, he almost panicked. What if the sword doesn’t turn itself on? I’ll be fucked… Then the color drained out of the world and for the first time since the battle at the village he once more became a tool for the sword he held. Thank god, he prayed.

His left foot slid forward across the sand, he twisted right and caught the halberd on his shield. He felt the axehead bite into the dense wood of the shield and felt the shock compress his whole body into the sand

As always, I insist that you point out any errors, inconsistencies and screw-ups in the comments. Your comments have indisputably made this story better than it would have been otherwise.

The battle comes to Lewis, at last. Chapter 27 is up, read here.

Behind him, Lewis heard the tonk of mortar fire. Sixty millimeter mortar rounds fell like thunderbolts on the trolls, digging craters and tossing the enormous creatures like a discarded child’s rag doll. Almost every time, though, the black-armored dolls stood again, and resumed their steady progress.

Pethoukis leaned back and shouted over the din to Lewis, “Mortar rounds are hitting. Are they slacking or is our mojo winning?”

“No fucking clue. Pour it on. Grenades and mortars, Pethoukis; maximum rate of fire. Give them some love.”

I can hardly believe that no one has found any typos in the last couple chapters. While I would be pleased to imagine that I am in fact that good, the more likely explanation is that you all are slacking. Point out errors, misconceptions, delusions and cock-ups in the comments, and I’ll be eternally grateful.