Michael’s Comments (group member since Feb 12, 2016)

Michael’s comments from the Foreworld group.

I think it's a great idea.

"Garshk-Hyuk, the barbarian king, shook blood from his sword and looked about. The clangor of steel had lessened. The screams of rage, terror and suffering that filled his ears during battle had softened now to mere muttering and whimpers. The setting sun, enrobed by clouds of scarlet-purple, cast long shadows across a bloody field of snow."

Ahem.

I would love to see some of the Mongoliad authors contribute material (in any form) to Foreworld KW. I think that even an Amazon review by Neal or Greg would inspire new contributors, simply because "Neal Freakin' Stephenson might actually read my book (!)". Recognition is a huge spur to fandom.

Very eager to read CRUX P in any and all forms.

I'm struggling through two books simultaneously. Zulfiqar and Clovis have been rewritten at least two dozen times and are only beginning to take a satisfying shape. Life has gotten very hectic recently. I find that I am thinking the books out during my morning workout and then using spare time to actually write my musings down.

Good reviews help sell a book, but I find the "Eh, yeah, it was good I guess" ones incredibly exasperating. My nightmare is mass mean-spirited trolling of the Amazon review section.

All of the acclaim is well-deserved. The RED MESSENGER series is jaw-droppingly great. Congratulations, C. B. M.

Hello and welcome, M. L.

Not to bogart Mike's discussion, but a few days ago I did promise to post a brief plot update on my two active stories.

I’m currently working on two adventure stories. The first takes place in 1885, the second in 1894. Both tales contain the same core of characters:

Sir Richard Francis Burton (orientalist, adventurer, explorer, master swordsman, linguist, author, and translator) is fast approaching the end of his life. Beset by illness and old age, his powerful body has begun to betray him. Yet Burton, even in his dotage, is a force to be reckoned with; an extremely clever man who is still occasionally capable of herculean feats. When the remnants of O. M. V. I. turn to him for help, Burton is flattered and eager to discover more about this mysterious Order. He will later die and return from the dead.

2nd Lieutenant Edmund Brunswick Bastable, formerly of the 66th (Berkshire) Regiment of Foot. Edmund is the second son of a social-climbing Hanoverian peer. A dedicated military man, Edmund spent his youth striving to become the ultimate soldier. His ambitions are dealt a cruel blow when he loses his leg at the battle of Maiwand. Upon returning home, Edmund learns that his father and older brother have died of cirrhosis and a broken heart (respectively) and that he is now Baron Bastable. He is also handed the reigns of his family firm. The Birmingham Consolidated Small Arms Company has been mass-producing military-grade swords and firearms since the Napoleonic war. Edmund uses his inheritance to build himself an ingenious steel-alloy prosthetic. Edmund quickly becomes the public face of the BCSAC, a swashbuckling romantic anachronism.

Viktor Karl Sigismund is Edmund Bastable’s only living relative, an elderly third cousin once removed. Vic is the 9th Margrave of the (now nonexistent) Grand Duchy of Braunschweig-Ochsenbrücke. We will later discover that Viktor is a master swordsman with an international circle of powerful friends and an enormous library of materials that trace back to O.M.V.I. Because Edmund is now Viktor’s heir apparent, the crafty Margrave begins to encircle his cousin with the shield brethren who will transform him into a worthy beneficiary.

Oscar Monkhouse is a very tough, roguish fellow. A cockney ruffian of German ancestry, he looks somewhat like a shaved gorilla (albeit a quiet one, who carries himself with great dignity). Recruited as Edmund’s valet, bodyguard and wrestling coach, Monkhouse seems to be a strange amalgam of Jeeves and Karl Gotch.

Merula Hastings was the daughter, secretary and collaborator of the late Christopher George Hastings (a Professor of Medieval History at All Souls College, Oxford). After the early death of her mother, Merula was essentially raised in a communal fashion by a small circle of insane academics. As a result, she has a number of very unusual talents and skills at her command. Merula is adept at fencing, archery and Andalusian knife-fighting. She can explain the Duke of Marlborough's strategy at the Battle of Malplaquet and intelligently debate the foreign policies of Constantius Chlorus. She can recite the Poetic Edda in the original Old Norse. Merula retreated to Switzerland after her father’s death, working as a nanny for the eccentric Margrave of Braunschweig-Ochsenbrücke.

The Boswell sisters (Moski, Pobba, Bora Tovver, Bitta Tovver, Chong, Pawney and Kawley) are a larcenous tribe of female Romanichals (British gypsies).


The stories themselves are Zulfiqar and The Butcher's Tower.

Zulfiqar takes place in 1885. Shihab al-Din Shah, the heir to Aga Khan II, has decided to exacerbate the rift between Islam and Hinduism in British India.

Shah is tired of his father’s pro-British attitude, and his casual approach to religion. The young heir has secretly been recruiting soldier-spies, a modern variation on his ancestor’s Order of Assassins, to carry out his plans.

Shah has decided to eliminate his chief political rival. His men will assassinate the heir to the British throne, using the legendary sword Zulfiqar – a weapon with intense symbolic and religious significance. He hopes that this event will inspire his followers to throw off the British yoke through revolution, and establish a mystical Shia caliphate in Sind, with Shihab al-Din Shah himself as it’s leader.

Naturally, things don’t go quite as planned. Before all is said and done, the reader will experience much sword-play and skullduggery, a train-robbery in Marseille, dueling Assassins, a Binder in peril, the clever machinations of Her Majesty’s Secret Agent Sir Richard Francis Burton, and a royal assassination attempt in a Parisian brothel.


The Butcher’s Tower:

The second story takes place in 1894.

The villains are a fin de siècle secret society which dabbles in politics and Satanism. As monarchists, politicians, propagandists and magicians, the villains understand how myth and legend can imbue certain artifacts (and, by extension, those who wield them) with great power. They hope to leverage their possession of the mythical Scepter-Sword of Clovis to gain a toehold in the coming republic. To this end, they are negotiating with the three pretenders to the French throne: Prince Philippe d’Orléans, Henri d’Artois (Count of Chambord) and Victor (Prince Napoléon). The group’s aim is to (essentially, inadvertently) launch the first world war twenty years ahead of schedule.

At this point, I think I can safely guarantee that this story will contain:

- Aristocratic Belle Époque Satanism. (Blood sacrifice. Hircine black masses. Costumed orgies. The works.)

- A terrifying pursuit through the pitch-black Parisian catacombs.

- A discussion of nationalist myths, modern propaganda and the way that “relics” can blur the lines of reality ala Borges’ Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius.

- A few clever (?) inside references to Foreworld people and events.

- The burglary of a treasure-house in a creepy fortress-like gothic tower.

Myself as well. Reporting for street team! Team Crux!

No, I plan on laying everything out quickly and with clarity. Part of the fun will be in how these characters interact, and the roles they use to disguise themselves. Each revelation (ideally) will be delightful; build-up, misdirection and pay-off.

The wonder of KindleWorlds is that a writer won't learn certain lessons until their work is in the public eye. Isle of Dogs taught me an incredible amount about form, technique and expectation. I owe a hell of a lot to Tony Wolf (whose patient and incisive editing shaped my story into something infinitely better than it originally was) and my reviewers.

One of the hardest tasks for any author might be balancing creativity with discipline. Some ideas burn like a fever inside my head for a day or two; but the actual work of turning them into a pile of words and pages is sheer drudgery. However, the later is a tangible relic of the former - your glorious imagination's emissary to the rest of the human race. Books or it didn't happen.

Durendal sat me down last night and gave me a good talking to.

“Look,” it said: “This just isn’t working. The story you are telling has diverged from the story you originally intended to tell. I’m afraid, my good-natured blockhead, that you must emulate Tao Te Ching (or Buddha, or whomever) and bend like a reed in the wind, etcetera.”

Thus, I’m proud to announce that Durandel shall henceforth be called Zulfiqar.

The revised plot will involve a one-legged swordsman, Corsican bandits, a reconstructed Order of Assassins, an audacious train robbery, a magical sword, superspy Sir Richard Francis Burton, a proto-Batman/Ra's al Ghul training sequence, the Battle of Kafr-el-Dawwar, an Aga Khan, Prince Albert Victor, and a certain Ms. Irene Adler (in a form will most assuredly cause Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to rapidly whirl deasil within his tomb).

Durandel itself has become a whole ‘nother thing. I shall relay whatever information is made known to me. Be warned, however: my stories are stubborn little bastards, and I am always the last to learn anything.

I've been trying to stir up interest in this group on Twitter.

I posted an epic photo of knights on horseback and the slogan: "Join us on the field of battle. Foreworld Goodreads."

Also, variations on:

"Aspiring writers: @nealstephenson @greg_bear @markteppo and company have built a universe for you to explore. Join them in #TheForeworld"

My intention, in case it isn't blindingly obvious, is to stress the martial camaraderie of Foreworld KindleWorld authors, and to entice potential members by invoking the magical names of Our Glorious Founders.

I think that these two factors differentiate us from most of the other goodreads groups. In many ways, the Mongoliad was created by sort of a modern OMVI. It was a noble, disciplined (literary, historical) guerrilla assault carried out by a small band of scholarly warrior monks, seeking to make an impact on the worlds that matter most to them. We carry on that tradition.

This group also offers an opportunity for fledgling writers to spar and roll in a dojo designed by a select group of speculative fiction's cognoscente - messieurs Stephenson, Bear, & Co. In essence, Foreworld Goodreads is offering a form of lineage.

Okay, mixed metaphors finished. Any input? Suggestions? Brutally frank criticism?

Mike

Being a fan of Mircea Eliade’s The Forge and the Crucible, of course I prefer my magical weapons to be made from meteoritic iron.

However, there is also quite a bit of evidence that Væringjar Vikings transported crucible steel along the Volga trade route and colluded with Frankish sword-smiths in the Rhineland. At least two 10th century ULFBERHT swords were forged from hypoeutectoid steel that is believed to have originated in Central Asia. That's my conspiracy theory and I'm sticking to it... at least until I can be properly shamed into forming another...

Hello and welcome, Tony. Its great to see you here.

I should mention that I'm one of the four KW writers who benefitted greatly from Tony's editorial guidance and hoplological expertise.

I’m currently working on three stories set in and around the Suffrajitsu milieu. The first two tales concern Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton and assorted members of the Kernoozer’s Club. The third takes place in 1911 and features Persephone Wright and Judith Lee.

This story had a complex beginning. I had to split the original idea into two separate tales, separated by 15 years time.

My first thought was that Durend was the great sword master of Tyrshammar. A subplot in THE BUTCHER'S TOWER is that Clovis, the legendary Merovingian king, had been trained in the arts of war at Tyrshammar. At his "graduation" he was sent home with a special sword and shield worthy of his rank. That sword was originally Durendal, but is now something completely different... a weapon more realistically reflective of that period. I might post details of that later as well.

My guess would be Vikings (or even Shield Brethren) moving along the Volga trade route.

My notes are a jumble, but I did quite a bit of reading on ULFBERHT when I was thinking about the sword. Obviously, this particular DURENDAL was created long after Roland's death in 778. It is the legend and attribution that are important in my story, not historical legitimacy. DURENDAL is going to be used as a politicalized weapon during the 'Urabi Revolt.

* ...subtle links between stories in the canonical Foreworld are a feature I'd love to see carried over into the Kindle Worlds realm... We have an opportunity to build that interlink into all of our stories.*

*I’ll try to give you some details from my three stories a little later in the day.*

As promised, here is some information from DURENDAL. This blade is completely the product of my own imagination, having no relation to any existing historical relic. The plausible details (about the sword, it's history and the languages involved) are as correct as my research can make them. At this point, the religious politics and legend of Roland are more important to my story than the weapon which signifies them.


Durendal is an early tenth-century 'gaddhjalt’ (or ‘spike hilt’) sword of the Geibig Type 5 / Oakeshott Type Xa variety.

Durendal was discovered in 1758 during the restoration of a small church near the Cirque de Gavarnie, in south-western France. The locals presented it to their patron, the Vicomte de Hauteville. In 1785, the viscount gifted Durendal to Madrid’s Museo Nacional del Prado. It remained there until 1882, and the beginning of my story.

Durendal's stats are as follows:

Overall Length: 41.12" (104 cm)

Blade Length: 35.87"(91 cm)

Blade Width: 1.93" (5 cm)

Point of Balance: 6.75” (17 cm)

Center of Percussion: 22.37 (53 cm)

Weight: 2 lbs (1.1 kilos)


Durendal isn’t typical of most 10th-century European swords. It is not pattern-welded. The smith(s) of Durendal created high quality carbon-steel blades. The grip is wooden, wrapped in a leather treated with bees wax.

The blade is inscribed with the iron-inlaid word DURENDAL.

A few high-end sword-smiths began ‘signing’ - or trademarking - their product during the Germanic Migration period. Ulfberht and Ingelrii were the most famous of these. Durendal was another. It is suspected that the name is an elaborate linguistic pun. Dur is the Latin word for hard. Enduring is durans. Durend is an obscure Frankish name that appeared at some point in the Carolingian dynasty. It became popular - as Durand - after the Norman Invasions. The Italians turned it into a first name (Dante) and a surname (Durante). It is the perfect cognomen for a sword master, who oversees the creation of a weapon that is hard, durable, and enduring.

Anachronistically, this weapon has been popularly associated with Hruodland, a Frankish military governor of the Breton March. Hruodland - whose name was later modernized to Roland (by the French) and Orlando (by the Italians) - became one of the central figures of medieval romance literature.

Although pitted, the blade itself was remarkably well-preserved, having been sheathed in leather and stored inside of a champlevé gilt-copper reliquary box. A scrap of parchment was kept with the sword. Although barely legible, it apparently read:

(Latin) “… haec deinde se servaturum testatus est” (“… then he swore allegiance.”)

(Old French) “Por Deu amor et por christien pople et nos commun sauvement, d’este dis eun avan, eun quant Dieux savier et pooir mihi dunat, et si sauver io chist mon sendra Karlun, et eun ayde ad mon spede Durendal et eun cuadhuna cosa ensi cuum hon par droict som rex.”

(“For the love of God and Christendom, and for our common salvation, from this day forth, as much as God shall give me knowledge and power, I will protect my lord Charles and will aid him with my sword Durendal or whatever else is at hand, as one ought to protect one’s king.”)

(Latin) ‘Quibus peractis Hroudlandus Cenomanus tenus per ducatus Cenomannicus.’”

(“With this completed, Hroudland left for Le Mans via the Breton March.”)


I have absolutely no idea how Durendal travelled from it's smithy forge to an 18th century reliquary box in Cirque de Gavarnie.

Keeping in mind that this pleasant little fiction is the work of much research, feel free to include it in whatever way you wish.

I am now picturing the Hermit from the inside sleeve of Led Zeppelin's ZOSO in a bunny suit.

* ...subtle links between stories in the canonical Foreworld are a feature I'd love to see carried over into the Kindle Worlds realm... We have an opportunity to build that interlink into all of our stories.*

I have already made subtle references to other Sidequests in the three stories I’m working on. I’d love to add more. These details reinforce worldbuilding.

I’ve made mention of William Marshall and Robert Dudley of Leicester - both of them tied up in OMVI shenanigans.

The Clovis sword ended up in the hands of the (fictional) Marchese d’Altavilla, an aristocrat from the Italian branch of the Hauteville family (from Scott James Magner’s Sidequests).

An early draft of Durendal began with a quotation from “France in the Time of Legendary Kings” (Francogallia in Fabulosus Aetate Regum) by a historian named Lazare de Rievaulx (the Cistercian monk of The Beast of Calatrava). I even added a scholarly footnote: “These references to magical swords are, of course, ahistorical; the stuff of folklore. Lazare himself understood this, being a very subtle ironist. He is best known for his attempts to inject Menippean satire into chivalric poetry. In many ways, he was a precursor of Cervantes. La Bestia de Calatrava, Rievaulx’s chansons de geste about the Iberian knight Ramiro Ibáñez de Tolosa, is a brilliant indictment of the Knights Templar and the interventionist policies of Pope Innocent III.”

The fact that the Foreworld freely mixes factual (Wikipedia-able) history with fictional détournement adds to the depth of the whole. The three of us casually repeating and confirming details will definitely mess with the heads of attentive readers. After all, in this manner was The Necronomicon born.

I’ll try to give you some details from my three stories a little later in the day. Have to run now. Doctor's appointment.

… ALSO…

We've spent quite a bit of time talking about Canon. A lifetime of genre fandom has convinced me that many wonderful ideas often enter a franchise surreptitiously, at a grass roots level, seeping into the spongy Canon until it reaches a saturation point, at which time these ideas become fait accompli. A king only rules because his sovereignty isn't questioned. Canon becomes Canon because it is repeated without disputation.

I would love to include artifacts and foreshadowing in DURENDAL. I've already made references to Sidequests by Mark and M. Harold Page.

I should mention that I view Nayland Smith as an unreliable narrator. Fu Manchu is definitely a hero. He was trying to kill Mussolini and Hitler - much to Smith's horror - as early as 1933! These are anti-imperialist stealth narratives.

Goddamnit, my whole afternoon is shot now. All I can do is think about Jack Gator. I’m writing films about him in my head. This is really too much fun!

I’m picturing Jack Gator as a Southern-Fried Buckaroo Banzai. Like, Doc Savage if it were written by Jim Thompson, Don Pendleton, Jimmy Buffett, and Nunnally Johnson. The cast would include Warren Oates, Harry Dean Stanton, Ben Johnson, Jerry Reed, Joe Don Baker, and Tom Laughlin.

Jack Gator is a polymath, born far below the Mason-Dixon line. His mother was a theoretical physicist. His father was a Texas Ranger. Jack has been a Marine, a martial artist, county coroner, inventor, test pilot, tech entrepreneur and Muscle Shoals recording artist. He operates out of a highly restricted compound/laboratory/private airfield in the middle of the Okefenokee Swamp. Jack spends his days solving insoluble crimes and physics problems. Jack can face down any obstacle with his brains, country charm and physical prowess. Voodoo cultists, alien invaders, Dixie Mafia assassins, zombie outbreaks. No problem is too great.

Jack is aided in his endeavors by the Honky-Tonk Cavaliers:

Mountain Dew - a moonshiner/industrial chemist/explosives genius

Maynard Hayashi - a bare-knuckle fighter and engineering wizard

Bandit - the devilishly charming mechanic, driver, and high-stakes gambler

Grizz - a hulking bodyguard and celebrated defense attorney

... and Jack’s luscious Cajun-Creole girlfriend TexArcana.

You guys really are a bad influence on me! How am I supposed to focus when you keep stuffing mind-worms into my ears like this?! ;-)