C.P.D. Harris's Blog

Blood and Gold is out now on Amazon in eBook format.

This book used to be called Red Glory in the old series. It was my least favorite of the those titles, but I have ironed out a lot of the flaws with help from Luke and the team. The narrative flows better and the characters are more consistent. There is less sex, but that is mostly to keep it in line with the current vibe of the rewrites than anything else. Enjoy!

Just to note both Immortal’s Ascent books are out in Audio, Papreback, and Ebook. here is the cover for the second one, since I have been lazy about showing it off.

Luke and I have been working on re-writing book 3, and the first draft is finished, but we are very busy over at Wrauthmarked and there are a lot of conflicting schedules.

This blog has been failry quiet this year. Part of it was just the usual Covid burnout. Having to sit with Ronan in virtual class, while interesting, did take up a lot of the day in the first half of the year. Finally getting to play Skyrim after finishing my Domains series also ate a lot of time. Still, I used to fill these pages once or twice a week with great regularity no matter how bad things got; so you can can be forgiven, dear reader, for wondering what I have been doing all this time.

And that leads us to the big announcement, namely this:

Earlier this year, I was approached by person of great taste and flawless character who was interested in republishing my Domains of the Chosen series with full rebranding. At first I was skeptical, there are a lot of sharks out there trying to take advantage of people with big dreams. I listened though, and to my surprise at the time, the offer turned out to be earnest and good. It even included a plan for audiobooks, which is a market that I had yet to break into.

I had corresponded with Luke Chimilenko back and forth in 2018. He actually introduce me to the idea of LitRPG with his Ascend Online series. LitRPG is a kind of genre fiction (usually fantasy) where the protagonist is playing a game or sucked into a gameworld. At the time I was amazed that such a thing even existed. I was always taught to keep gamey stuff out of writing to keep the narrative pure, you see. And yet Luke, and others like him, were combining the elements of games with writing in a way way that respected both.

When I first started writing the Domains of the Chosen, I purposefully downplayed a lot of the gamey elements of the work. Understanding that many readers like the comobination of the two would have given me more confidence in bringing the systems of magic and training in the Domains out of the background. I always wondered why my readers kept pking me to make the characters gain more power every book. Talking with Luke, and later some of the people I met through this new opportunity, helped put that in perspective.

Luke and I, along with some mysterious (but awesome) people decided to rewrite my original work as Progression Fantasy. LitRPG is a subset of this genre which is characterized by the protagonist training, gaining power, and continuously pushing beyond their limits in order to achieve their goals. LitRPG is progression fantasy, but so are some very old forms like Xianxia (which I just learned about), and the first two works of the Domains of the Chosen.

So that is what I have been doing for most of this year. Book one, which used to be called A Gladiator’s Tale, is now called Death and Glory ogf the Immortal’s ascent series. It has been great expanded, edited to the nines, and has already been recorded for audio. it will be released on January 25th in both audio and ebook. Book two is mostly done as well.

It should be familiar enough to those of you have read it before, but instead of toning the powers and training down, everything is amped up. I have to say that I have really, really enjoyed rewriting it. Puting action in that belongs in a great game, a stunning Wuxia/Action film, or a vibrant anime has really helped me make the series what it always was down deep. I fucking love it.

And so will you.

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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“STOP!” shouted Ushochhushi and Retaak felt him try to use Kasukaak once more. The pain of the compelling washed over him, but it was mere echo of before. And then Ushochushi was in the air, tossed up and out over the pit, his arms and legs waving, almost as if he thought he could fly.

“NOOOOOoooooo…” screamed the Seneschal as he tumbled into darkness.

Retaak watched for a long moment. He felt the compelling end, which signaled that Ushochhushi was dead. All around him the Fellspawn began to stir.

As Retaak turned to look at them, his body was wracked by a painful spasm. His vision clouded and he choked as his throat closed. He stumbled but did not fall.

He was so weak that the first of the waking spawn almost beat Retaak to the Dread Lord’s crown. A great surge of his kin came toward it, weapons drawn, sending the power that lay within. A swift footed goblin man nearly touched that terrible iron circlet before Retaak pushed him away and set the cold metal on his own head. Instantly he could feel the will and the heart of every one of them, not just those on the plain below the Dread Lord’s tower but those further afield as well. The clamored towards him, seeking the the crown, weapons drawn, hearts full of hate and fury, an army that none had ever been able to stand against.

“Stop,” said Retaak, compelling them. And they did. The Fellspawn, his kin, stopped in their tracks. Unstoppable, save by the Dread Lords. Unified by this crown.

It was not as if they were automatons, no, it was far worse than that. Kasukaak compelled them with pain and sublimated their wills to the crown. They struggled against it, all of them, in their own way. But they were bound to the crown, as the first Dread Lord made them. The only true freedom they understood would come if they held the crown as he held it now, an ambition they all held. Perhaps they deserved their cruel fate.

But Retaak was Wildborn. He knew the tender love of his parents before the seventh Dread Lord rose and called them all. He had overcome, with help from a Demon Spider and an Elf Mage, perhaps, the compelling. Surely he was not the only one. The crown let him gaze out into them. To his surprise Retaak found love among them. A mother’s pride in her son, a Father’s love, comradery, passion, art, music; good to match the evil that was also there. Good that could, perhaps, flourish if they were free.

He coughed again, but he was stronger this time. The Crown was healing him, he realized. Cursed thing. Of course no Dread Lord could ever die of old age or some simple gesture of defiance; it had to be violence every time. That was the nature of the crown. It enthralled them all, even the one who wore it.

And so Retaak, last of the Dread Lords, and the only one whose name was revered. Walked over to the blade of ruin and woe and pulled it from the rock. It came easily to him, for his limbs were fed by the energy of the crown and he could feel power flowing through his muscles.

He strode over to the grim altar at the bottom of the tower where victims were sometimes sacrificed to the Dread Lord. Taking one last glance through the minds of his people, he removed the crown and placed it on that altar. Instantly they surged forward, drawn to it like moths to the flame. Some did not come, however, and as Retaak raised the blade and brought it down, he caught sight of Uyagi. It was good way to end it all.

His last thought was this: The sound of a female’s laughter, mingled with a male’s, both familiar, both loved.

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The Blade met the crown. Both were objects of power. Retaak was unflinching in his purpose. The crown and blade were destroyed. Retaak and the closest of the Fellspawn running for the crown were instantly incinerated.

War did not immediately break out. Chaos did not descend. Most of the Fellspawn simply stood and stared for a long time as the realization that they were now free settled upon them. Eventually the rhythm of their lives drew them away, some dreaming of power, others of love and Freedom.

Among the last to leave was Uyagi, who took a little of the ash from where Retaak died. She stood silently for a moment, gazing at the ash and the ruins of the altar. Others, moved by what they had witnessed, stood nearby but they were silent too.

Finally, she whispered “Thank you, Retaak.”

And then she turned and left, thinking of a story that Retaak had told her of the valley where he had once lived and where she might be able to find it.

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Fin. I hope you enjoyed this.

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure. It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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Retaak felt the haft of the spear groan in his one hand as his fingers caught Ushochhushi by the collar. Suddenly the spear came loose in his grasp and Ushochhushi slipped away before Retaak could take hold of him. The ogre growled and righted himself. The seneschal made a dive toward his own weapons. Retaak reversed his grip on the spear and threw it, watching it brush past his nimble enemy who twisted and rolled, grabbing something from his bag on the ground.

The seneschal came up, rolling to his feet as Retaak bore down on him. The Ogre knew that Ushochhushi was fast and skilled, but in a contest of strength there could only be one victor. The seneschal threw three sharp projectiles, piercing Retaak in his chest and shoulder. They burned where they struck. Ushochhushi dove away, but Retaak anticipated his movements, snatching him out of the air and pulling him into a bearhug.

“Aaahhhh,” cried the Seneschal as Retaak crushed the breath from him and lifted him off the ground. Retaak grunted and squeezed, ignoring the his enemy’s squirming and kicking. He could feel the wounds where Ushochhushi’s throwing shards had pieced his skin and knew they were poisoned. He could already feel it weakening him.

“Too late, Retaak,” wheezed Ushochhushi.

Retaak growled in response, but he could feel his strength ebbing. Death was coming.

“Heh… heh… all that rage and muscle,” laughed Ushochhushi as Retaak staggered. His laughte trailed off abrubtly as he realized what Retaak was stumbling toward; the great pit at the base of the tower where the Dread Lord tossed the broken bodies of those he executed, where the corpses would eventually fall through the warrens and down to the maggot pits far below. “… What are you doing? Stop!”

With a mighty grunt Retaak heaved Ushochhushi into the pit…

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Thralls is delayed this week. My mother and father in law narrowly escaped a car fire tonight and things are just calming down now. I am feeling very lucky that neither of them were badly injured.

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure. It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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Retaak stared at Ushochhushi. He hated the former Seneschal and feared him as the new DreadLlord. He wanted revenge, not freedom. And even if his principles were in order, he would be a fool trust Ushochhushi. And yet…

“Only be being free can we learn how to be free,” said Retaak, this time raising his voice so that all of the Spawn still held in thrall by Ushochhushi’s Kasuukak, could hear him. “I am free, Dread Lord Ushochhushi, but so are you. What will you show our brethren now that you are no longer restrained?”

And with that, he placed his fist over his heart as a gesture of respect among equals, and then, without waiting for an answer, he turned his back on Ushochushi and began to march away. In the silence that followed the only sound that could be heard was his footsteps, the slow rasp of breathing from the Spawn around them, the wind…

…and the tiny sound of a light-footed step that Retaak had hoped not to hear, but that that he knew would come. He swung to side as quickly as he could, but even though he was expecting the attack Ushochhushi was so quiet and so swift that Retaak felt the spear cut along his ribs as he stepped aside, watching the blood-kissed tip as it passed him.

He grabbed the haft and pulled the Seneschal off balance with one hand, grabbing for his neck with the other.

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In other new I joined team Pfizer (shot 1) today!

And also, that announcement is still upcoming…

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure. It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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Ushochhushi stared at Retaak, shaking his head, after catching his breath he spoke. “You are a fool, but you were useful to me… I needed Albyursia to overcome the Dread Lord’s defences; it was that simple. You don’t understand the power that the Dread Lord commands, or how much of it was wasted… Yes, you are a fool Retaak, but you have served me well in the past. If you wish, you may go, be free… bury her in a nice place far from here.”

Retaak blinked. He did not trust Ushochhushi, nor did he want to let him live after using Albyursia, killing her, for his ambitions. Was he just trying to get him to drop his guard,

“You don’t understand Retaak,” said Ushochhushi. “The power that the Dread Lord holds is incredible. It is the power that made us. It is the power that enthralls us. I helped the last Dread Lord earn his position, but he squandered it, calling for tribute and pointless wars with the elves when he could have done so much more. Our people can be great, Retaak, but not with someone like that as their leader.”

Retaak was almost convinced. Almost. “There is no greatness without freedom, Ushochhushi.”

“And what do you think would happen to us without a Dread Lord to lead, Retaak? We will fight among ourselves, scatter, return to the wilds. The elves might leaves us alone but do you that the remnants of the Dwarves and the Humans would be merciful when Bemachhorak falls apart?”

“Only by being free can one learn how to be free,” answered Retaak.

“Show us, then,” said Ushochhushi.

<>

I had a terrible scare last night when little Isaac jumped off the couch and hit his lip on the table, biting right though. The amount of blood coming out of his mouth made it seem quite bad. We had to take him to emergency and he ended up getting stitches, but luckily it was now as bad as it seemed. Viv got almost no sleep and we are all exhausted and counting our blessings.

Should be up next week, if I can figure out exactly how to end this thing

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure. It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

Kasuukak came down on Retaak like a mountain. All there could feel it, and the spawn closest to Retaak shrank away as much as they could, fearful as the new Dread Lord stormed past. Somehow, Retaak kept his feet the face of of that onslaught, defiant.

“Such remarkable courage and strength,” said Ushochhushi, lifting the Dread Blade to swing. “And yet all of that will is wasted. That’s the difference between you and I, Retaak. You are too impatient, you never learned to take your place and wait. Ah well.”

He swung the blade. Retaak heard laughter, a voice from a place of webs and old doom, and felt the compelling break. The chains were off, suddenly he was free to move. Jerking back to avoid the Dread Blade, he felt the wind of metal brush past him and the rock spray against his leg as it bit into the ground. He stumbled back and away, expecting another swing.

Instead of a follow up that would have bisected Retaak, all Ushochhushi could do was glare at his enemy. The Dread Blade had bitten deep into the rock and the former seneschal was struggling to pull it out. Retaak wasted no time.

“Die!” he roared, surging back toward Ushochhushi, hands curling into fists, anger burning through his veins. “You killed her!”

Ushochhushi ducked under Retaak’s fist and kicked him in the side, hoping to push the Ogre back and pull the blade put of the rock. Retaak only staggered back a half-step, however, and the former Seneschal could not get a chance to pull on the weapon. Retaak swung again, Ushochhushi sidestepped and hit a nerve in his shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through the Ogre. Retaak powered through the pain making a grab for Ushochhushi, who let go of the sword and danced back from that lethal embrace.

Retaak growled, intent on Ushochhushi now. “You used her. You used us all.”

“What was she to you?” snarled Ushochhushi, snatching up a spear from the ground nearby.

“I will never know, now,” said Retaak. “Yet another moment you have stolen from me, and for what? a chance to wear the crown that will be your doom as surely as it has been the doom of every one who has worn it? What will you do Ushochhushi? conquer more land? extinguish more lives? All for the sake of carving your name into the bloody annals of history? Am I the fool for not wanting that?”

Ushochhushi heard the anguish in Retaak’s voice and it gave him pause. He lowered his spear…

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