Self!

I'm not going to waffle on much here unlike I normally do. Suffice to say that this is my very favourite song. Still, before we get to the lyrics, here are some images from the awesome video that accompanies the single:

Lead Vocals: Vickie Perks


Drums/Percussion: Tina O'Neill


Lead Guitar: Jo Dunne


Acoustic Guitar/Keyboards: Maggie Dunne

And here are a couple extra pics just for the hell of it!


Self! by Fuzzbox

You didn't write, you didn't telephone
You didn't call, you left me on my own
You don't think about anyone but yourself
Do think the problems fade if you get stoned?

Self, self, self, self
Always you, never me
What the hell do you expect me to be?
Self, self, self, self
You don't see things like I do

You've left me empty, you've left me numb inside
Just cos I love you doesn't mean you can take me for a ride
I'm sick of you giving me all the cues
I've tried to forget you but I can't
Although I've tried
Tried and tried

Self, self, self, self
Always you, never me
What the hell do you expect me to be?
Self, self, self, self
I can't forget you though I try

You didn't write, you didn't telephone
You didn't call, you left me on my own

You've left me empty, you've left me numb inside
Just cos I love you doesn't mean you can take me for a ride
I'm sick of you giving me all the cues
I've tried to forget you but I can't
Although I've tried
Tried and tried

Self, self, self, self
Always you, never me
What the hell do you expect me to be?
Self, self, self, self
You don't see things like I do

Self, self, self, self
Always you, never me
What the hell do you expect me to be?
Self, self, self, self

Self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self

One Down, One To Go

I've been collecting the Gor novels for a long time, well over a decade now and for the past few years I've had almost the entire set. Almost, but not quite. Two books eluded me. There are 26 books in the series in all, as listed below:

1. Tarnsman of Gor (1967)
2. Outlaw of Gor (1967)
3. Priest-Kings of Gor (1968)
4. Nomads of Gor (1969)
5. Assassin of Gor (1970)
6. Raiders of Gor (1971)
7. Captive of Gor (1972) - Earthgirl Point of View
8. Hunters of Gor (1974)
9. Marauders of Gor (1975)
10. Tribesmen of Gor (1976)
11. Slave Girl of Gor (1977) - Earthgirl Point of View
12. Beasts of Gor (1978)
13. Explorers of Gor (1979)
14. Fighting Slave of Gor (1981) - Jason Marshall Trilogy Book One
15. Rogue of Gor (1981) - Jason Marshall Trilogy Book Two
16. Guardsman of Gor (1981) - Jason Marshall Trilogy Book Three
17. Savages of Gor (1982) - Part One of Two
18. Blood Brothers of Gor (1982) - Part Two of Two
19. Kajira of Gor (1983) - Earthgirl Point of View
20. Players of Gor (1984)
21. Mercenaries of Gor (1985)
22. Dancer of Gor (1986) - Earthgirl Point of View
23. Renegades of Gor (1986)
24. Vagabonds of Gor (1987)
25. Magicians of Gor (1988)
26. Witness of Gor (2001) - Earthgirl Point of View

Norman has allegedly completed a 27th Gor book, Prize of Gor, which has yet to be published.

Until recently I was missing both Kajira and Magicians, but thanks to ebay I now have a copy of Kajira of Gor at last. Unfortunately, this just leaves Magicians to complete the set, the single rarest book in the series, because unlike the others it only had the one print run. All the rest had multiple print runs (these books used to sell in the millions of copies when they were originally published!) both from Daw (the US publisher) and Star (the UK publisher), often with differing covers (the UK cover for Dancer for example is the US cover for Kajira).

So should anyone reading this come across a copy of Magicians of Gor by John Norman in a second hand book store, or a charity shop, or whatever, please grab it. I badly want to get a copy of it to complete my collection, but it always reaches stupid prices on ebay. Kajira set me back £12 (including postage and packing). The cheapest I've ever seen Magicians go for would set me back at least £30.

Adventures With Cabinets

Well not really a cabinet per se, more of a chest of drawers but that doesn't make for a good title. I've needed a chest of drawers for ages, as the three drawers at the base of my wardrobe do not suffice to store my clothes as well as my bedding. As a result for the past year or so, my laundry would get washed and dried, folded and then placed on a chair at the foot of my bed. And as the pile on the chair would go down, so the pile in my laundry basket would rise, until the process was repeated all over again.

Clearly with another person soon to be living here, that routine cannot continue and so I set out this morning to find a chest of drawers. I didn't bother with the places selling new ones, they would all come flat packed and require assembly. Dad has the DIY skills in my family, not me. Lady Luck was smiling on me today though, as I struck paydirt in the first shop I looked in, the St. Margaret's Somerset Hospice Charity Shop by The Bridge. A three drawer pine chest of drawers for just £25. Still, I've learned to always shop around, so keeping that chest in mind, I set off to look around the other charity shops in town that deal in furniture to see if any of them had anything better.

To cut a long story short (unusual of me I know), they didn't. I headed back to the Hospice Shop and ponied up the money for the chest of drawers. I was asked then if I wanted it delivered and learned that it would set me back another £7.50. Also the only day they could deliver it in the next two weeks was this coming Wednesday afternoon, which I didn't know whether I had off work or not. Leaving the paid for chest in the shop, I headed to Morrisons and phoned Tony. He's been working out for the past couple months now, so figured I'd give him a use for his muscles.

I also phoned my parents house, but Dad must have been out at the time because there was no response to the call. Buying a cold drink I sat outside to wait for Tony to arrive (having told him to try and bring Gareth along too). Tony turned up as I was talking to a fellow Cake Shop worker by the name of James Whitfield, though Gareth had passed on lending a hand. We walked to the store and picked up the cabinet to carry the thing back across town to the house, mostly via Goodland Gardens.

It's a bloody good job that chest of drawers had wheels on it that's for sure, as it made getting the damn thing back here a hell of a lot easier. To be fair, Tony did carry most of it for a big chunk of the way, while I lightened the load by carrying a couple of the drawers. Once we got it back here, I had to pack up the old dining table that I had half folded up for use as a table to paint miniatures on. I packed all that up and put it away. The table is down in the lounge now. My room looks a lot tidier as a result of this change (and the couple black bags of rubbish I threw out also helped). I believe I am now as ready as I can be for my kajira's arival.

Insurrection: A Book Review

Insurrection by Thomas M. Reid is a Forgotten Realms novel and the second book in the six part War of the Spider Queen saga. It begins a couple weeks after the events at the end of Dissolution, with five of the main characters we met in the previous book sent to investigate whether Lolth's silence extends beyond Menzoberranzan to other cities of the drow. Specifically, they are heading towards the nearest such city, a trading centre called Ched Nasad the City of Shimmering Webs, so named because the entire place is built in a chasm on huge calcified strands of webbing.

The characters taking part in the trek are: Quenthal Baenre (who is nominally in charge of the expedition), Jeggred (who has been appointed by Triel to guard Quenthel and obeys her without question), Faeryl Zauvirr (returning to her home city and acting as a guide), Ryld Argith (the muscle) and Pharaun Mizz'rym (whose magics give him more destructive power than all the rest combined and who chafes under Quenthal's leadership, doing his best to undermine her at every turn). Joining them is Valas Hune, a male scout who fights with twin kukri's and who can travel through shadows.

As we join the group they are fighting a running battle against the forces of a half-demon warlord called Kaanyr Vhok. His soldiers are demon/orc hybrids called Tannarukk's. He both has a lot of these troops and they are fanatically devoted to him. They are attacking the drow as the drow have trespassed in Vhok's terriotory. Leading them is Aliisza, an alu-fiend (the daughter of a human male and a succubus) and Vhok's consort who takes an immediate (and carnal) interest in Pharaun.

Battling their way past the Tannarukk's brings the group eventually to Ched Nasad, where they find the city on the brink of a revolution. Lolth's silence is indeed all pervasive and Pharaun soon discovers that it is not only the drow who have lost contact with her, other races that venerate the spider queen receive no spells from her either. While the males are off exploring the city (and getting into fights), Quenthal and Jeggred find themselves caught up in some treacherous politics between the noble houses and are betrayed by Faeryl.

This leads the group into contact with two other new characters, the priestess Hallistra Melarn and her battle captive/servant Danifae Yhauntyrr. Hallistra is implicated in a conspiracy to betray Ched Nasad, but has been set up as a scapegoat by Faeryl's mother. Danifae is bound to Hallistra's service by means of a powerful binding spell, but she yearns to be free. Extremely beautiful and very clever to boot, she schemes to win her release from slavery, as before she fell captive, she was a priestess herself. When the plot to frame Hallistra blows up in their face, Faeryl and her mother launch their fall back plan.

What follows is nothing less than all out chaos, as a huge force of mercenary Duergar (gray dwarves) at the behest of Faeryl's mother (who herself is being manipulated by an outside agency. Drow plots are nothing if not machiavellian!), attacks the city from within. What makes things worse is that they make heavy use of a strange kind of alchemical weapon, which creates a fire that actually burns stone. Ched Nasad is a city built on a vast criss-crossed network of stone webbing. I'm sure you can imagine the carnage that happens as a result of this!

The last hundred pages of this book are one long running battle, that is exhilirating to read as things go from bad to worse seemingly with every turn of the page. This is a really well written book and as with part one of the saga, it gets full marks from me, 5/5. The new characters of Valas and Aliisza are a lot of fun to read, Valas because his abilities continually surprise his travelling companions; Aliisza because she is a fun character. She likes to laugh and a good time in bed (she's not exactly very loyal to her lord), while at the same time being evil to the core. I'm very happy to have read that Mr Reid is writing a trilogy, in which Kaanyr and Aliisza will feature heavily.

A Grand Quest

For the past week or so I've been enjoying playing a game I bought a few years back. It's called Baldur's Gate and it is (in my humble opinion) the finest roleplaying game ever created for the PC. Well the entire Baldur's Gate saga put together is the greatest rpg that is, but the first part is my favourite bit of it. I have both the original game and it's expansion pack Tales of the Sword Coast installed and I've been merrily hacking my way through the many quests and wilderness areas.

I bought the game when it was first released, but despite owning it for years and playing it an unknown number of times, I've never actually finished it. I got all the way to the end once though, after following the central plot to pretty much the exclusion of all else. I got to the final battle and the big bad guy (whose name is Sarevok) kicked the ever loving shit out of my plucky band of heroes.

So this time I decided to play it a bit differently. For starters I have an all evil group of characters, starting with my own character a male half-elf thief named Rakarth Blackspawn. He is joined on his quest to rid the Sword Coast region of the monsters, bandits and worse, by: Imoen (female human thief), Kivan (male elf ranger), Xzar (male human necromancer), Kagain (male dwarf warrior) and Viconia (female drow cleric). I used the Gatekeeper editor to change Imoen and Kivan to evil alignments, as else they were at odds with the other four and they are both far too useful to lose.

I tinkered a bit with the characters stats too (well mainly Rakarth's) to make them a bit more heroic, but while I could have given them all sorts of equipment, money, even magical powers above those they gain by their level, I did not do so. While they have good stats, they are still all very killable if I'm stupid, and I've lost count of how many times I've had to rely on a saved game when a battle went bad. One particular fight I've fought over a dozen times now before finally just walking away. It's in the dungeons of Durlag's Tower against the first four warders in case you're interested. Try as I might, I cannot defeat Love, Fear, Avarice and Pride. Which is a real shame, as apparently there are 3 levels of dungeon further down that I'm itching to explore, I just can't get there!

As I was saying though, I'm doing it a bit differently this time. The last time I played this I pretty much stuck to the main quest and on;y did a very few side quests. Whole areas of wilderness never got explored fully, and some not at all. Not so this time. I've followed the main quest only when I had too. Other than that I've explored everywhere, every tomb, dungeon, cave and crag has been investigated and cleaned out. I fully intend to hit the experience point cap on all 6 characters before I reach Sarevok and his trio of buddies.

As I write this I'm about to explore the catacombs under Candlekeep. When I get out of there, rather than return straight away to the city of Baldur's Gate itself, I'm going to pay another visit to the village of Ulgoth's Beard and go off on a quest from there to search for Balduran's lost ship. I would have done that quest sooner, only I needed the sea charts from the city, and you can't enter the city until you've flooded the mines in the Cloakwood Forest. So I had to follow the main plot for a bit, so that I could go off exploring the wilds again.

I'm having a tonne of fun playing though this classic game and when I'm done, I'm thinking that I might import this set of characters into Baldur's Gate II and continue their quest all the way through to Throne of Bhaal. Normally a character starts BG2 at about 8th level. Mine would start at somewhere around 10-11th and be far better equipped!

A Lazy Few Days

I'm on holiday at the moment and I have been since 9pm when my shift ended on Saturday. I set myself a couple tasks to do during this week off work and... well I've not really done either of them as yet. I have sort of made a start on one of them though, in a roundabout kind of way.

The first task was to sort through the several banana boxes full of assorted crap under my bed. I was to sort it into lots for auction, photograph them and store the photos on my computer. The lots would then be bundled back up in some way so that they would stay togther in their groupings. Basically I was going to use elastic bands and/or carrier bags to seperate everything up with. I went to start doing this today and what I've done instead so far, is to fill most of a black bag with assorted rubbish.

I've yet to take a single photo, or even really decide what I'm going to sell. I'm lacking a ruthlessness that is needed for a task like this I think. The hoarder aspect of my star sign (Capricorn) is showing through and I find myself reluctant to part with anything... even really useless stuff I find myself putting in the pile of "It might come in useful some day". I'm going to give that task another shot tomorrow and try being more assertive with myself.

The other task I set myself was to write letters to several publishing houses to ask for them to consider me working freelance for them as a proofreader. Of course I would expect them to set a test before any agreement of receiving actual work, if only to gauge my level of skill and ability to meet both a deadline and their standards. The course I took even included a sample letter of application to use a template.

Only a month or so ago I chanched upon Bookseller, a website for professionals in the field of publishing and I had a look at the forums. Where I encountered several threads of posts mocking applications from would-be freelance proofreaders, specifically those that had taken the same course I have qualified in. It seems that the Maple Academy course is not well regarded in the profession and the comments about the course I took, were written with barely veiled distaste bordering on outright snobbery.

So my confidence has taken a bit of a knock to say the least. I still intend to apply all the same, I just need to write a letter of application that will catch the attention of the editor whose desk it lands on, so that it will not immediately be dropped in his waste paper bin. I'm good with words, written that is, not so good with the speaking, so I will figure out a way to word such a letter, but that will take me a little while. I'll be sure to keep you posted on that front.

Dissolution: A Book Review

I've nearly finished reading the next book in this saga, so about time I got the first review posted I think. dissolution by Richard Lee Byers is a Forgotten Realms novel and the first book in the six part War of the Spider Queen saga. Each book in the saga is written by a different author, all following one epic storyline covering the events that unfold when Lolth the Demon Queen of Spiders and the tyrannical goddess of the subterranean Drow (dark elves) suddenly and inexplicably falls silent. She answers no prayers and grants no spells to her clergy.

Since her clergy are all female and they have ruled the drow race with ruthless ambition for millennia, to say that they are terrified of this news becoming known would be a huge understatement. But as the days become weeks, their loss of power becomes harder to hide, not least from the males of their race who have been second class citizens for a VERY long time. Since sorcery is exclusively taught to males and they retain their spells, this puts the priestesses at a considerable disadvantage should the truth become known.

This book begins several weeks after Lolth's silence began. Set in the forbidding underground metropolis of Menzoberranzan, the largest of the cities of the Drow, it begins many plot threads that will doubtless flow through the rest of the series, as well as introducing most of the primary characters (though several don't make their debut until the second book). Those characters are: Gromph Baenre (Archmage of the city and the Master of Sorcere, the wizard school. The most powerful wizard of the Drow race), his sisters Triel Baenre (Matron Mother of House Baenre and uncrowned ruler of the city) and Quenthel Baenre (Mistress of Arach-Tinilith, the school for priestesses). Pharaun Mizzrym (a powerful wizard) and his companion Ryld Argith (a Master of Melee-Magthere the warrior school), Faeryl Zauvirr (Amabassador from the Drow city of Ched Nasad) and Jeggred (A Draegoloth, half-drow/half-demon and Triels's son and faithful bodyguard).

To say reading this book was an experience would be an understatement. I've never before read a novel without a single good aligned person in it. There isn't one here. Every single last one of the characters in this book are evil to the core. This makes for some utterly compelling reading, as you really never know what any of them are going to do next... well okay you can be pretty sure they'll scheme, backstab, murder and bicker a lot. That goes without saying, they are Drow after all, a race of black skinned, white haired elves with red eyes and souls entirely devoted to chaos and evil.

My favourite character would have to be Pharaun, who has the misfortune to be a quick witted genial conversationalist born into a race almost entirely without a sense of humour. Still, while it is fun to read his chatty banter, in the course of this one book he smothers a woman to death, leaves his best friend for dead, massacres a patrol of guards to get some attention and kills his own sister!

I loved this book and unsurprisingly it gets full marks from me, 5/5. If you like dark fantasy then you should love this series!

Fast Forward Futurama

This is a song from one of my all time favourite bands. Yet when I mention them to almost anyone, the reply I nearly always get in return is "Who?" Fuzzbox, or to use their full name, We've Got A Fuzzbox And We're Gonna Use It, were an all girl quartet that bagan back in the late 70's as an indie punk band with their first album. They then went on an extended tour of the states. When they returned in the late 80's, they released a second album entitled 'Big Bang', from which this song is taken. I loved those songs, still do. I've got them all on mp3 and listen to them regularly. Back in the day, I had the album on vinyl and I still have that record at my parents house.

The song itself is mildly tongue in cheek with its references to supposedly futuristic technology and customs. A shame there was no video made to accompany it, as the bands other videos are all really well made. I recently bought the groups compilation cd 'Look At The Hits On That!' which had a cd of the bands songs, but also a DVD of 9 of the groups superb videos.

Fast Forward Futurama by Fuzzbox

There you stood within the Kalamar
Drinking Mojo's from the Summer Bar
Now's the moment when you know you've got to
Strap the Spingles on
Switch the Isotron
We collided

Fast Forward Futurama
Give me your love tomorrow
Not just a cooler karma
Not just a thing to borrow
Fast Forward Futurama
Fast Forward Futurama

Reading text books on Polotomy
New sensations watching over me
Hidden meanings - now you know you've got to
Fix the Zulmarand
Take you by the hand
You confided

Fast Forward Futurama
Give me your love tomorrow
Not just a cooler karma
Not just a thing to borrow
Fast Forward Futurama
Fast Forward Futurama

At the Flowtell where they're stopping at
Dancing Tangos on the Spiromat
Leave in time because you know you've got to
Catch the Tele-Jet
Leave the Firmament
Unrequited...

Fast Forward Futurama
Give me your love tomorrow
Not just a cooler karma
Not just a thing to borrow
Fast Forward Futurama
Fast Forward Futurama

The Next Phase

I have several goals for this year, and right now every last one of them is proceeding well, with only a couple slight delays thus far. I planned to sort my bank accounts out so that I could have funds to renew selling items on ebay. I've done that, the nice bonus sum I got from work at the end of March went a big way towards restoring my finances to a more manageable level, as did my banks agreement to extend my overdraft capacity by £100 for a 2 month period, so I would not continue to be hit by fees. Thanks to both of those measures I have begun getting out of the hole I dug myself into.

I have renewed selling on ebay now. The first 2 batches of auctions raised about £150 in all and that money will bring my accounts fully out of the red for the first time in... I don't know how long. I have one item on ebay at the moment, but as I have all of next week off, I will be spending a good deal of that time sifting through the boxes under my bed. I will be arranging the stuff I own into lots for listing on ebay, and taking the needed photographs. I am going to clear out the stuff I no longer want or need, and in doing so I am going to clear my debts.

I dusted off the home study course I bought back in 1998 and never finished earlier this year, and resumed my studies. This time I completed the course, sat both exams and mailed the papers off for grading. Today I received my diploma in the post. I passed both Proofreading and also Copy Editing with a Merit grade in each. Not the best I could have hoped for, but better than scraping in by the skin of my teeth with a mere Pass. Again I will be putting my holiday to good use by sending out mails to publishing houses to inquire about the possibility of freelance work. That money too (should I earn any) will go to clearing away debts.

Also arriving in the post today was a parcel... well okay I had to go and fetch it from the Royal Mail sorting office, as there was a customs fee to pay. Inside were the last of what I consider to be the basics. I'm not interested in a girlfriend, too much compromise involved. I seek a kajira instead and if all goes well, she should be arriving in a couple weeks time. There are certain basics required for owning and keeping a kajira. I now have what I need to ensure that my girl is kept properly, as she would expect to be kept.

The only glitch thus far in my year has been the news at work that I am to be moved from the Admin dept, back to the Cake Shop where I worked before. I am unhappy about this development which was explained to me yesterday, but I am not in any position to do anything about it. Still, this does give me added motivation towards getting freelance proofreading work and then getting enough regular work in that field, that I can quit my job in the supermarket for good. That is a longer term plan though, but should be acheivable within the next year I believe. Too while I do not wish to return to the Cake Shop (despite getting to work in close proximity to both Dan and Richard again which is a bonus), the hours in that department are far more reliable than they are in Admin, which makes planning around them much easier.

Everything (well almost everything) is proceeding according to my design. Always a step forward, never a step back. Be slow, be steady, be sure. Never has my motto seemed more appropriate than now.

The Note Through The Door

So after work today at 9pm, I got home to a note stuck in my bedroom door. It had been put there by my two housemates, after being posted through the front door. Gareth noticed it earlier in the day and put it in the doorframe for me to find. The note was obviously hand delivered, and was written on the back of a printed copy of a photograph I have online. This photograph in fact:


The text of the note read as follows (and this is an exact copy of it, spelling mistakes included):

We know who you are and we are willing to put this in the gazzette.

Unless you are willing to meet us @ "shout" tomorrow night. Come Alone or else.
Ask for O.J Simpson at the bar + knock three times!!!

Come Alone

Needless to say the actual thing wasn't in italics and that last Come Alone was underlined, twice, but you get the idea. To say that this note is laughable is to put it mildly. Let's go through it shall we?

Who know you you are

Well obviously you do, you just hand delivered the note to my address which means that you have to know me in person, or else be very good at following me home to know where I live, as my address (for obvious reasons) is not listed where that photo can be found.

we are willing to put this in the gazzette

Put what in the Gazette exactly? A picture of me holding a whip? Hmmm, like it would even get published and if it did. So what? We have 2 sex shops in town already and a 3rd has applied for permission to open. They wouldn't be here if they weren't making money and that means SELLING THINGS. A good number of homes in this town have got things a lot more risque than a whip in them that's for sure. Not exactly news dumbass!

Unless you are willing to meet us @ "shout" tomorrow night. Come Alone or else.

Or else what? I just pointed out that your "threat" is utterly toothless. I've neither got the money nor the inclination to go to Shout on student night. I'm 30, the average age in there on a Thursday is a good 5 years younger than me and that's the older crowd. If you wanted me to go somewhere alone, you should have said the Market House as I nearly always go there by myself. If you actually knew me, you'd know that!

Ask for O.J Simpson at the bar + knock three times!!!

Riiiiight okay, so you're going to be at the bar, all night are you? I ask this because you forgot to state what time to be at Shout for. So whoever you are (and from the we earlier I'm guessing there's more than one of you... that or you just suck at grammar), you're going to be stood at the bar, all night, watching for me to do and say that are you? I think not.

I'm going to give this "invite" a pass. It was almost certainly written by one of my mates as a very poor joke. You want to play a practical joke like this on me guys, you're really going to have to do a lot better than this.

Taunton Tour: Taunton Castle

This has to be both one of my favourite places in Taunton and one of the least visited. While I love the Castle and I really like the fact that Taunton both has a castle in the town centre and such a really nice looking castle at that, the museum inside it hardly ever changes its exhibits, so it is a bit boring really.

I first visited the Castle with my school back when I was 11 or so and not long after that, myself and my brother started attending a club that the museum's curator ran on Saturday mornings. It was a really good club and the kids who attended got to do all kinds of cool stuff, like mount insects on cardboard, go on a fossil hunting daytrip to a quarry and I remember a wonderfully educational presentation given by a friend's Mum, who was a friend of the curator and one of the top Egyptologists in the country.

It's a shame really that there is so little left of the Castle, as it used to be MUCH bigger than what is now left of it. The main culprit to blame for its current state is Oliver Cromwell, as Taunton fought on the side of the crown during the English Civil War and once Parliament had won, they set about ruining many of the strongholds that had opposed them and so the grand old Keep of Taunton's Castle was 'slighted', which is to say it was destroyed! What is left of it can be seen in the gardens of the Castle Hotel these days, but it's not much to look at.

There is a map on the wall (just out of view on the right side of the photo) which shows the modern town map in black and white, with a colour overlay that shows just how big the Castle used to be. These days what used to be the old Bailey is now Castle Green (though most of it is in fact a Car Park and not really very green at all), an area surrounded by historic buildings that either were part of the old castle structure, or designed to look like they were.

In the foreground of the photo can be seen the sword in the stone, which just about every kid in town has tried to pull forth a time or two. I know I have. Alas it seems I'm not fated to be King of the Britons, which is probably for the best!

The Shattered Mask: A Book Review

About time I got around to writing this review as the book has been sat on my desk for the past few days and I'm only 120 pages away from finishing the next book I started after finishing this one. The Shattered Mask by Richard Lee Byers is a Forgotten Realms novel, and the third book in the seven part Sembia series. Each book in the series (apart from the first which is an anthology of short stories) is by a different author and is centered around one member of the wealthy Uskevren merchant family. I previously read Shadow's Witness which is the 2nd book in the series. This one is set several months later and features the matriarch of the family, Shamur Uskevren.

A popular saying is that football is a game of two halves. Well the same thing can basically be said about this book, in that the second half of it is so different from the first half, that it might as well be a seperate book entirely. The first half of the book is a fairly dull read and the plot is entirely predictable. To say I was disapointed would be an understatement. Byers is one of my favourite authors and I had a hard time believing that he wrote what I was reading. the second half though is another entity altogether, fast, furious and action packed, very much more his writing style and it is clear that with this part of the book that the author is in his element.

The story focuses on Shamur Uskevren, stately matriarch of the family, estranged wife of Thamalon and mother to Tamlin, Talbot and Thazienne. She has a big secret, which I'm going to state here. Doing so does not in any way spoil the novel, as this is mentioned in the first chapter anyway. Shamur isn't who everyone thinks she is. She was not the lady Shamur Kern who was romanced by Thamalon when he was trying to rebuild his houses fortunes many years ago. That girl was poisoned and killed mere days before her wedding. Taking her place was her aunt, also called Shamur Kern, who half a century before had been an adventuress and burglar. Only on one of her adventures she'd gotten caught in a magical backlash and frozen in time... for more than 50 years.

When she returned to the timeline she found everyone she knew long dead and went back to her family, to find the Kern's on the brink of financial ruin, their only lifeline being an impending wedding between the young Shamur (who bore an uncany resemblance to her "late" aunt) and Thamalon Uskevren. And then of course the girl died. Since no-one knew of her return, Shamur the Elder took the younger Shamur's place and entered into a loveless marriage to save her family. Unfortunately, one of Thamalon's enemies has pierced her masquerade and manipulates her into trying to assassinate her husband, by implying that it was Thamalon who poisoned her niece.

This enemy is a wizard (and his shadowy familiar) who wears a moon mask to cover his face. He is a foe that Thamalon killed years back, and who has now returned from the Nine Hells themselves to exact revenge on his slayer and who decides to dupe Shamur into doing his dirty work for him. That in a nutshell is the first half of the book. A convoluted revenge scheme which invariably fails to work and which sets up the second half of the book, where to coin a phrase "all hell breaks loose".

Seeing that subtley won't win him his desire to see the Uskevren destroyed, but mistakenly thinking Shamur and Thamalon already dead, the wizard resorts to brute force and overwhelming numbers to try and wipe out the Uskevren heirs. The fight scenes are masterfully written, full of energy and a joy to read. While their children dodge conjured monsters and hired blades aplenty (and do some maturing and a lot of squabbling too in the process), Shamur and Thamalon play detective to try and figure out just who the moon-masked wizard is and why he wants them dead, racing against time to discover his identity before he succeeds in exterminating their children. All the while the pair have to come to terms with the decades that Shamur has been deceiving her husband in her false identity, which makes for some amusing and also poignant banter between the pair.

I'm going to give this book 3/5. If the whole book had been written as well as the second half is, then this novel would have easily scored full marks. While I can see why the book is written as it is, that didn't make reading the first half any more entertaining.

A Great Discovery

This morning I was in the process of packing up the figures to be mailed off, when I realised I needed some more padded envelopes. Fancying a walk anyway to help me wake up, I headed out to WHSmith's and duly bought the envelopes once I'd located them amidst the stores new (and frankly very odd) layout. Me being me, I can never just go to one shop, so I browsed a few others and remembered that I needed some new pens for work too.

So I set off towards Poundland and in doing so passed the entrance to Whittard's, the coffee and tea shop. I've only ever been in it a couple times, but as yet I've never done so and gotten out again without spending money. Figuring I'd treat myself to a bottle of caramel syrup for my coffee, I went in and found it and then looked at the shelf above...

Where there were jars of flavoured coffees. Vanila, Irish, Hazelnut and the like. All very tempting to try, but the one that got my attention was on the end of the shelf. Chocolate Caramel flavoured coffee! I love chocolate, I love caramel and I love coffee, so I just had to try a jar of it. I'm happy to report that it is quite nice, but it is lacking in the overall coffee taste. So I'll likely just have a couple mugs or so of just it, before adding the rest of the granules into The Blend and seeing what that tastes like then, as I think the current mix of Columbian coffee in the blend could well offset the taste deficiency of the new jar.

My search for the ultimate coffee blend continues.

One Less Sibling

Up until today, if anyone had asked if I have any brothers and sisters, I'd have told them that yes, I had one of each, both younger than myself. Not so anymore. I no longer consider myself to have a sister. Ohh she's not dead or anything, she just seems to prefer that I not exist. Far be it for me to not return the favour.

To be honest, this has been a while coming now and the signs were obvious months back, if not even longer ago. I've never really gotten on with her and certainly not for years now. She has always been more my brothers sibling than mine. I've been fine with that, everyone has their favourites after all. The writing was really on the wall back in the autumn though. I didn't have the money to get her a birthday present and was told not to bother about it, as she'd never gotten me one. Which to be honest I had forgotten about.

So then I asked what she'd like for Xmas. Mum suggested I pay something towards her holiday to Cyprus this year (to attend a friends wedding), and simply give her a card on Xmas Day itself. This struck me as a great idea. But then I was told that as she wouldn't have the money to buy me a present, not to do so. Fair enough I thought and I respected that. So imagine my surprise come Xmas Day when she not only buys everyone else in the family a present, she buys them two. I'd like to say I wasn't hurt by that, but I'd be lying.

So today I was told not to bother buying her an Easter Egg, because she wouldn't be buying me one and would rather not have anything more to do with me. This information was relayed to me by my Mum. I can't say that the news came as a surprise given her past actions. Still, it's not everyday you lose a member of your family. But then I don't regard this as a loss.

Waiting For The Hammer To Fall

So I'm happy. I really am. For once things actually seem to be going my way, which to be frank, is a bloody nice change of pace! True I am still deeply in debt, but I have that under control and my ebay auctions are going well, with the first wave done and the second already listed and attracting bids and watchers aplenty. I have hundreds of comics to sell off and a lot of old toys, even some books too, over the coming months. That money is going to be put to use, reducing the amount I owe.

I'm doing okay at work and I have a grasp on most of what my job entails now. I'm getting more Sunday work which is good, as working a Sunday adds about £18 to my weekly wage. This also helps my finances out, as that money is my entertainment money each week. It is the money I have for the cinema, a DVD, a Domino's pizza or a bunch of novels to fuel my reading habit.

Now normally if I was to write something like this, I'd have to concede that part of my life isn't going so well and what would follow would be a short tale of some romantic screw-up or other meaning that I'm still alone. Not this time. This time, romantically, things are going well. I've had a lot of interest on the site I'm listed on and I think (fingers crossed) that I've found the girl for me. We certainly get on really well in chat. Now we just have to figure out how to get together, which could be a bit tricky, seeing as she's in Africa. Still, I am hopeful that won't prove to be an obstacle for much longer.

So, things are going well for me, even today is nice (what little I'll get to see of it as I overslept till 4pm) with me off work and the sun is shining. Which brings me to the title of this post, a line from a song by Queen, which sums up my underlying notion that something bad is sure to happen soon. To put it better, I refer to a quote from Babylon 5 by the Centauri Ambassador Londo Mollari, in which he says:

"Everytime it seems I am truly happy, the universe sees fit to conspire to do something nasty to me"

Never have truer words been spoken, well certainly not in relation to me anyway! Bring it on universe!

Two Pints And A Packet Of Peanuts

Well I was going to spend tonight indoors, most likely with a good DVD and the tear 'n' share jalapeno bread thing I bought from work today. As it turned out that wasn't what happened, as Gareth gave me a buzz on MSN (don't ask me why he didn't just yell up the stairs, I don't know) to ask if I wanted to join him on an excursion to Henry's pub to meet my mates Dan Shapter and Matt Cheetham there.

It took me... ohh maybe a second, to decide "what the hell" and agree to tag along. Evidently Gareth had also contacted Tony in a similar manner and so all three of us set out to the pub, which is a very short walk from the house we share. On the way Tony suggested we go in through the back door to which Gareth responded "What back door?" Seems that despite frequenting Henry's for many years now, Gareth was unaware of the rear entrance to the building (which is even signposted from the car park out back).

So we resolved to show him this doorway, only to be stymied by it being locked and thus we had to trudge around the front. Still, Gareth is now aware that the pub does indeed have a back door, so we claim a small victory for that sake. Henry's was packed as it always is on a Saturday night, but upstairs the pool tables were not so busy and so once we had drinks in hand (a pint of Extra Cold Guiness for myself) we duly claimed a couple of them.

While Matt played Dan, I took on Gareth in a long and drawn out game (neither of us are really any good at pool at all), which resulted in me winning by virtue of Gareth potting the black early. Handing the second table over to another group who'd showed up, I sat and supped my pint and chatted for a while, before Matt vanished for a bit and Dan played Gareth. Finishing my pint I went back downstairs and bought a bottle of Brahma lager and a pack of peanuts (dry roasted of course!) and returned upstairs in time to see Dan defeat Gareth and want another victim... I mean opponent.

I gamely stepped up and while I'd like to be able to type that I beat him, needless to say I didn't! With Tony not interested in playing, and having beaten everyone Dan adjorned to the bar to get a new drink and I played Gareth again, with the same result as before. A long drawn out game with me winning because of him potting the black ball early (actually he potted it twice this time, but we caught it the first time and continued the game anyway). Deciding that his luck was in rotten form and that it was best to quit while behind, Gareth made to leave.

Not really having the money to spare, to stay longer, I decided to head home as well as did Tony. We stopped in Tuckers cafe on the way back for me to grab a cheeseburger and Tony to pick up Doner meat & chips. Mmmm grease! So that was my Saturday night. I'm sat here now typing this and listening to classic 80's rock. Goodnight World!

Attack Of The Were-Rabbit?

There are times when life is certainly stranger than fiction. The fiction of course being the recent animated movie starring Wallace & Gromit and their efforts to stop the predations of a monster rabbit, which was attacking the huge vegetables, that had been grown by the people of their town, for an annual vegetable competition. It is a funny film, I watched it at the cinema when it came out and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Life though has a funny way of imitating art at times, as this news article on the BBC News website proves. Seems local people in a northern village have hired two guys with air rifles to stand guard over their vegetables after a monster rabbit with paw prints larger than those of a deer, has been preying on their allotments. Go and have a read, it made me laugh. Every time I think the world cannot possibly become a stranger place, somehow it always manages to do precisely that!

The Sales Barn

It has been a while since I posted an excerpt from a Gor novel. So here is a chunk of Chapter 9 of Dancer of Gor, in which the former librarian Doreen Williamson finds herself sold for the first time, from a sales block at auction!

A man opened the gate and motioned me out, still on all fours, onto a small wooden platform. I could smell sweat, and hear voices, excited voices. One voice seemed predominant among them.

He knelt me back and put manacles on my wrists, joined by about a foot of chain.

I knelt there, the chain across my thighs.

The gate was closed behind me. I saw another girl. I did not know her, now behind the gate. She must wait.

Suddenly the nature of the calls and responses from the crowd became clear to me. There were calls for bids, and there were bids, literally bids, and something was being sold.

I inched forward, to see better. I could see the forward edge of a large, rounded block, about five feet high, set back on the dirt, a few feet within the railing. A double chain seemed to be extending upward, toward it, on a pulley system. I moved forward on my knees, nearer the wooden wall in front of it. I saw Gloria there, on that rounded, raised surface, standing, her wrists over her head, in manacles much like mine. The chain at her manacles extended upward in an inverted "V." It was about two feet in length. The higher hook on the chain had been placed over one strand of the double chain overhead. About Gloria a man walked, with a whip.

I looked back, trembling, at the girl still on all fours in the shoot. Her face was frightened, behind the slats of the gate.

The man who was near me took a short length of chain. It had a hook at each end. It was about two feet in length. He put one end about the chain on my manacles, and held the other.

I suddenly almost cried out with fear. From my left, from the rounded, wooden surface, there had come the snap of a whip. I heard the movement of a chain overhead. I saw Gloria being drawn from the surface by the manacles, doubtless, by means of them, to be lowered to the ground on the other side.

The man then slung his end of my short chain, that whose lower hook was about the chain on my manacles, over the chain extending upwards.

Gloria had been sold!

The chain moved a little, and my wrists were pulled upward.

"No!" I cried, in English. "No, please!"

Then I felt the manacles drawn upward and my arms extended. I was pulled to my left and then, suddenly, my feet were off the platform and I was swinging inches over the dirt. The sides of the manacles cut into my wrists. I was then being lifted up, toward the surface of the block. The gate beneath me, and behind me, was opened. The other girl was now doubtless being brought to the platform, behind the low wall, out of the sight of most of the crowd, and another was moving to the gate. I saw, now, being lifted, that there were tiers behind the standing area, extending back and toward the back of the building. On them, though I could not see them well, there seemed to be many men, sitting. I could not see any females. The only females in the building, I supposed, might be females such as myself, naked females, up for vending. There must have been some four or five hundred men in the building, in the tiers alone, not counting those crowded by the low railing. As I was lifted I could see the semicircular nature of the dirt flooring. Doubtless, the large platform removed, tarsks would be sold here. It was a lofty, raftered building. I put my head up. I saw the chain moving. I saw more rafters, too, high above me, almost lost in the darkness under the roof. It was a barnlike building. My wrists hurt. I was then suspended above the platform. The men were looking at me. It was a sales barn. Then the chain slacked a little and my feet touched the surface of the platform. I stood, it seemed, in a half inch or so of sawdust. My wrists were still held high over my head. I heard the crack of the whip and I jerked, frightened, in the manacles. Some of the men laughed. The whip had not touched me. My response though, I think, aside from being startled, had informed the men that I was not totally unfamiliar with the whip. Indeed, though I had felt it very seldom, I had felt it. Indeed, the first sensation that I had been aware of on this world had been the stroke of Teibar’s whip, awakening his "modern woman" to her new reality. He had struck me three times. I had never forgotten the feel of those informative, salutatory blows, bidding me welcome to my bondage.

The fellow put his left hand on my breast, holding it still, reading it. Then he nodded to another fellow, behind me and to my left, on the platform.

"Lot 89," called that fellow.

Various men at the rail and in the tiers rustled papers, or glanced at notes, held in their hands. I gathered that many of them might be the sort of men who would buy more than one woman. That frightened me.

I listened to the fellow behind us, scarcely understanding him. It was called to the attention of the buyers that I was another Earth female. I was characterized as being intelligent, and as having, for my time on Gor, attained some skill in comprehending the language. I would be capable, I heard, of understanding most simple commands put to me. I myself thought my grasp of Gorean far exceeded such a minimal level but perhaps they wished to be conservative in their claims on my behalf, if only to protect themselves against the possible complaints of dissatisfied customers. Too, they probably weren’t certain, really, how good my Gorean was. I had been here only since yesterday morning. I then heard my height and weight, in Gorean measurements, thirty and a quarter Gorean stone and fifty-one horts, or approximately, in Earth measurements, one hundred and twenty-one pounds and five foot three and three quarters inches, and a large number of my other measurements being similarly, recounted. These would be my "block measurements," those which were mine as of now, on the date of my sale. Some masters will hold a girl to her block measurements, by the whip if necessary. Others will insist on their improvement, under the penalties of a similar discipline, in one direction or another, depending on their own preferences. Other masters are quite lenient, or tolerant, at least within certain limits, pertaining to such measurements. Clothing sizes were not given, as there is little concern on Gor with a slave’s exact sizes in such matters. Most Gorean garments for female slaves are either loose fitting, and drape, or they are pulled tight, sometimes strapped or tied about her, to reveal her. If it is of interest, however, and we are speaking of fixed-ring sizes, I would take a number-two wrist ring and a number-two ankle ring. My collar size is eleven horts. These are average sizes. Gloria, for example, would have taken larger sizes. Men’s sizes, those of male slaves, incidentally, though the numbers are similar, are on a different scale. The buyers were also informed that I was "glana," or a virgin. The correlated term is "metaglana," used to designate the state to which the glana state looks forward, or that which it is regarded as anticipating. Though the word was not used of me I was also ‘profalarina’, which term designates the state proceeding, and anticipating, that of "falarina," the state Goreans seem to think of as that of being a full women, or, at least, as those of Earth might think of it, one who certainly is no longer a virgin.
In both terms, ‘glana’ and ‘profalarina’, incidentally, it seems that the states they designate are regarded as immature or transitory, those of ‘metaglana" or "falarina." Among slaves, not free women, those things are sometimes spoken of along the lines as to whether or not a girl has been "opened" for the uses of men. Other common terms, not generally of slaves, are ‘white silk’ and ‘red silk’, for girls, who have not yet been opened, or have been opened, for the uses of men, respectively.

I suddenly wondered, wildly, my hands held high, held fast in the manacles, if Teibar, my Teibar, might be out there somewhere among those men, perhaps high in the tiers, in the darkness, waiting to bid on me! Then I realized how foolish that would be. He could have bought me at the house, at a discount, if he had wanted me, not waiting, not following me for great distances, not almost certainly paying more in an open market, not risking losing me to a higher bidder in a place such as Market of Semris. No, Teibar would not be here. It was I, who was here, alone.

I heard myself characterized as being "semitrained." Was that all my training in the house counted for, I wondered, rising so early, retiring so late, the busy days, the long lessons, their frequency, variety and intensiveness, administered to us morning, noon and night? I then wondered if this, like the claims made with respect to my Gorean, were intended to be precautionary, or conservative, perhaps to avoid possible subsequent difficulties with disappointed buyers. But this time I did not think so. I had some inkling, by now, given my training in the house, of the sorts of things which could be involved in "training," many of which we had not even had time to touch upon. I was sure that given the possibilities of slave service I was still very naïve and backward, still muchly uninformed. Indeed, I suspected that there would always be more to learn about service and love, that such things were fathomless and limitless, and, thus, in a sense, the notion of being ""fully trained," or knowing all there was to know, was in actuality less of a practical goal than a lovely ideal, one which might perhaps be approached ever more closely, but would never be, and perhaps should never be, fully attained. Let the girl revel in her growth, and not fear that one day there will be more to learn, nowhere else to go. There are no summits on the heights of love. Ulrick, however, had assured me in the house, once, that I had talent. I hoped so. Such, among the imperious masters of this world, might improve my chances for survival. I did have a live body, some understanding of my womanhood, and a desire to please men. I looked down into some of the faces below me, behind the railing, across the dirt, across the tarsk run. I had better be pleasing to such men, I thought, shuddering. Then I moaned to myself. Teibar was not here. I was alone. What was I doing here? Why was I brought here, to this world? My wrists hurt, held up so high in the steel. Were the men not being cruel to me? Could they not see I was naked, and helpless?

"Category," I heard, "-Pleasure Slave."

When I heard this categorization, so matter-of-factly given, concluding the fellow’s recounting of attributes and features, measurements and such, I was suddenly, inordinately, startled. I had known, of course, I was not a house slave, or a tower slave, for I was not permitted to kneel in fashions appropriate to those varieties of slave. Too, I had understood, of course, that many of the things I was taught seemed to have direct application to the pleasing of masters, and even profoundly sensuously so, but I had not, until now, heard that exact simple, direct expression. We had never been told, in so many words, that that was the sort of slave we were. Perhaps the Gorean girls had understood, clearly enough, but I do not think we girls of Earth had, at least not is so direct a way, not in the way, certainly, which seemed to be summarized so clearly and succinctly by that one expression. Ulrick had not even told me the sort of slave I was. He had laughed, and informed me that I would learn from men. Now, it seemed, on the sales block, I had done so. I threw back my head, and moaned. The chain overhead tightened and I was pulled up a little more, so that only my toes were on the block.

The auctioneer lifted his whip, cracked it, and called for the first bid.

My wrists hurt. He was calling for a bid on an illiterate barbarian. I realized, suddenly, that that was I.

I was an educated, civilized, refined woman on my own world. Here I was an illiterate barbarian!

I heard someone call out from the floor. I realized, suddenly, I had been bid upon. I was being sold! Too, he was not bidding on part of me, say, on my body. He was bidding in the Gorean fashion on all of me, on the whole slave. The bid had been for twenty copper tarsks. In a moment I had heard twenty-two, and twenty-seven.

On my own world I was a modern woman, of sorts, independent, and free, and with political power, particularly with fearful, cringing men. But here men were not fearful and cringing. But then I had been taken from Earth, and my power, to be brought here to be utterly powerless, to be a slave, to be a pleasure slave! How reductive, I thought, to be a pleasure slave! Then I knew that that was what, on a proper, natural world, I would be, that that, on such world, was right for me. "No, no!" I wept, in English.

I heard more bids.

The auctioneer walked about me. He touched me, here and there, with his whip. He turned me on the chain, I on my toes, exhibiting me.

Then I again faced the men. There were more bids

I though how amused Teibar might have been, to have thought of me, his hated "modern woman," as he thought, being sold, and being sold in this place, a place fit for her, a sales barn, where tarsks, four-legged, and two-legged, like herself, were sold. I wondered if Teibar knew I would be sold in this place. He was doubtless privy to the records of the house. But he may have left their service before I was consigned to the wholesaler outside Brundisium. But it could be this was a common clearing point for their slaves. It could be, too, he had retained contacts with the house. He might very well know I was here. He may have even, for his amusement, arranged that it would be here, or in a similar outlet, that I was sold, influencing the orders in some fashion. Perhaps that I was here, naked in a sales barn, my wrists manacled over my head, being bid upon by strangers, was part of his vengeance on me. At the least he would have known that this, or something similar, would be done to me! How amused he must be, when he thought of such things, his haughty, pretentious "modern woman." as he thought, she whom he held in such contempt, to her dismay and terror, and misery, now being sold naked from a slave block, into absolute bondage!

Then I became aware of someone, or one or two men, actually, calling up from the floor. It was not bids they were calling. I tried to understand them. I did not know if it were their accents, or I simply, in my confusion, my misery and distress, had suddenly lost almost all my command of Gorean. I could not really understand them.

The chain slackened above me and my arms fell, somewhat. The auctioneer put his whip on his belt, held me by the left arm in his right hand, and, with his left hand, reaching up, lifted the chain between my manacles off the lower hook of the short chain, that attached to the strand of the double chain overhead. His hand on my arm kept me from collapsing to the sawdust. My hands were down, the chain on the manacles now against my thighs. He said something to me, but I did not understand it. Then he reached in front of me and gathered the chain between my manacles into his hands and lifted my wrists up, bending my arms back. He put my wrists back, behind my head, and then released the chain on the manacles, letting it drop behind my neck. "Clasp your hands behind the back of your head," he said. I understood him now. "Bend back," he said. "Display yourself." I obeyed, of course. Too, the whip was now again in his hand. "Flex your knees," he said. "Now, turn," he said. "Do not forget our friends to the right," he said. I then displayed myself, again, identically, at the right side of the block. I did not think the other girls had been removed from the chain, or not many of them, given the speed with which the line had moved. Why should I be favored in this respect? The bidding had been interrupted at eighty-eight tarsks, whatever that meant. I did know that there was apparently something about me, perhaps unfortunately, which many Gorean men found of interest. I do not think this was simply a matter of figure and face, though I think these appealed to a Gorean taste, but perhaps something else, something deeper, which they seemed to sense about me, some sort of possibility, or potentially, or something which I myself did not fully understand, or yet understand. Sometimes he touched me with the whip, calling attention to a curve or flank. Teibar’s "modern woman," I thought, is now displaying herself naked to Gorean buyers. He then had me kneel and bent me back, painfully, my hair back to the sawdust, to the center, and then the left, and then the right, before the buyers. He then had me straighten up and unclasp my hands from behind my head. He then lifted the chain forward, over my head. It then hung, between my wrists, a little below my neck. He let me lower my hands. My hands then, and the chain, were again on my thighs. My hands chained as they were, I could not both keep them on my thighs and maintain a full, open-kneel position. I looked up at him, from the sawdust.

Men were calling out, from behind the railing, and some from the tiers. To my surprise the auctioneer removed a key from his belt and removed the manacles from me. I rubbed my wrists. There were marks on them where the manacles had cut into me, when I was lifted to the block.

The auctioneer cracked his whip.

I looked up at him, from the sawdust. I was to be put through slave paces.

I tried to put from me what was being done to me.

I wanted to go back to the library.

The sawdust was in my hair, and its particles clung to my sweating body.

"Yes," I thought, "I can find that book."

I was on my belly, naked, in the sawdust.

"Yes," I thought, "there was quiet, shy Doreen in the library, going quietly about her duties, there, walking about, returning to the reference desk, over that flat carpet, from the information desk, past the xerox machines." I rolled in the sawdust.

Yes, there she was, there, in that simple sweater, that plain blouse and dark skirt, the dark stockings, the low-heeled black shoes. Surely no man could find her of interest. Then she became aware of a man at the reference desk, looking down at her, one bright afternoon, a man whose look penetrated into her deepest heart and belly, and stripped her, and saw the slave there. And he had caught her in her dancer’s costume, that in which no man had ever seen her before, and she had then, in swirling skirt and scarlet halter, and bells, danced in the darkened library, danced before him and his men. I was vaguely aware of a cry of pleasure from the crowd. I had performed the transition between two of the moves in the slave paces with the startling, sensuous agility of a dancer. It then seemed that it was the dancer in the sawdust, on the block, she who had worn the skirt and halter, and bells. How beautiful they seemed to find her! How she moved! She heard the exclamations of praise. The auctioneer stood back, the whip lowered, startled. "No!" I cried. Then again I was awkward and fearful, and only an Earth girl, miserable, confused and terrified, cringing in the sawdust of a slave block on an alien world.

"What is wrong?" asked the auctioneer.

"Nothing, Master," I whispered, cringing before him on all fours.

A gesture of his whip informed me I should lie upon my back. Then I was supine before him. He turned about. He stood partly over my body. He faced the crowd. He had one of his legs between mine.

"Two," was called to him from the floor. "Two!"

"Two!" repeated the auctioneer, holding up two fingers. "Two!"

The auctioneer did not sound angry at this bid. I myself was startled. The bids had been in the eighties before. Now, it seemed they were reduced to only two.

I was on my back, gasping, lying there.

The auctioneer stepped a little away from me, and turned to face me.

It was now as though I could hardly move. I was terrified. I hoped he would not beat me, because the bids were now down to two.

He looked down at me, puzzled.

I think I must then have seemed to him quite otherwise than I had but moments ago. I do not think he understood this. It was almost, I suppose, as though there were not one, but two women on the block, almost as though he had two different women to sell.

I rose up on my elbows but he, with the heel of his bootlike sandal, thrust me back to the sawdust. He then, with his bootlike sandal, turned me to my stomach. "Kneel," he said. I knelt. He then replaced the manacles on my wrists. He turned me so that I knelt facing the crowd. He pulled down the short chain from the horizontal chain. "Stand," he said. I obeyed. "What is wrong with her?" called a man. The chain between my manacles was looped over the lower hook on the short chain. I could hardly stand. I was terrified. I looked out on the men. Any one of them, I realized, could own me. I was a slave! I could be owned. I could belong to them! They could do with me what they might please, anything. They would have over me total power. But I was a woman of Earth! This could not be happening to me! Then, as the higher chain, the strand of the double chain, took up its slack, my wrists were again pulled up, high, over my head. Again I could touch the block only with my toes. I had not been as Ulrick had wanted, not at the end. I had been too much afraid. I had not been fresh and supple. I had not controlled my breath well. I feared I had not been beautiful. I had been too afraid, too afraid to be truly beautiful. I had been too clumsy. I had not down well! Oddly enough I had not wanted to disappoint Ulrick, who, I think, had liked me. Too, I didn’t want to be punished for not having done well. Surely they had wanted to make more money on me than "two," two of whatever it was.

I looked down into the faces. They were masters, and I was a slave. My eyes met those of one fellow, a large, corpulent man, stripped to the waist, very hairy, with crossed belts running across his chest. He had a drooping mustache. He had a long scar at the left side of his face. He was one of the grossest, most frighteningly ugly men I had ever seen. He looked up at me, and grinned. On the right side of his mouth, a tooth was missing. I looked up, away from him, at the manacles on my wrists. They again hurt my wrists, my body stretched, and pulled up, as it was, on my toes. My toes hurt, and the back of my legs. I looked above the manacles, to the chain. Chains are so strong. We cannot break them.

The auctioneer was now behind me and to my left. "Is there a further bid?" he asked.

I think the ambiguities in my performance, if that is what they were, may have puzzled several in the crowd, as well as the auctioneer.

The house was quiet.

I looked down again. Again my eyes met those of the large, corpulent fellow. He grinned. He did not seem puzzled. I feared he might be a perceptive master, in spite of his grossness, his ugliness, from whom a girl could not keep secrets. I looked hastily away, again, from him.

"Am I bid only two," inquired the auctioneer, "for this luscious merchandise?"

I felt the whip touch my flank and waist, on the left.

He then stepped a bit before me, to my left. He turned and touched me twice with the whip. "Consider this flank, and belly," he said.

I tried to hold myself perfectly still. The light touches of the whip, though, had made me terribly uneasy.

He again moved behind me, and to the left.

"I have been bid two," he said, "for this lovely barbarian pleasure slave. Do I hear more? To be sure, she is only semitrained, and perhaps not yet fully broken to the collar. That I would not gainsay. But surely she has some promise. Yes, I think so. Some of you, I am sure, suspect that she has promise."

I did not know what he meant by that.

"Is there a higher bid?" he asked. "Shall I close my hand?"

A wave of anger suddenly swept over me. I, a pleasure slave! Absurd! How reductive! How degrading! I wanted suddenly to prove to them that I was no pleasure slave. I was an educated, refined, civilized woman of Earth! I was a modern woman, at least of sorts! I was no pleasure slave! But I knew, looking down at those faces, that if any of them owned me, I would have to be fully pleasing to them. I would have to bend all of my efforts, and all of my beauty, my charm, my grace, my knowledge, my intelligence, my tact, everything that I was, and could hope to be, to that end. I would have to be to them, and perfectly, a pleasure slave. And what horrified me most, I think, was that I wanted this. I wanted to serve men, and give them pleasure, to be precious to them, to be loved and appreciated, to make them happy. What a terrible woman I was, to want to make men happy. Then again, I strove to be cold and hard, to be cruel like stone and leather. I must not allow myself to feel! But what, I asked myself, if I were not allowed to be my own mistress? What if men simply did things to me, forcing me to feel, as it pleased them, forcing me to yield, and melt, against my will, forcing me to feel, and experience, things which on Earth I had never even dreamed of, forcing me to be what I most feared, permitting me nothing else, a woman in the order of nature? Then I steeled myself again. I was no pleasure slave. There was no pleasure slave in me! I was above such things. I was my own mistress. No man could change that!

"Aii!" I cried, suddenly, startled, squirming wildly, leaping in the manacles, twisting, with a movement of chain, then my weight on them, the chain taut, my knees lifted, almost to my belly, my eyes shut, my teeth gritted.

There was much laughter from the house.

When I opened my eyes again, my body now again stretched out, standing on its toes, my wrists high over my head in the manacles. I looked down, across the dirt area, over the railing. The large, hideous, gross, corpulent fellow was there, looking up at me, grinning. I blushed hotly. I looked away from him.

I had not expected the touch.

There was more laughter.

My body was crimson with shame.

It had been revealed to the men that I had a vital, living body.

I held my ankles, and knees, and legs as closely together as I could. I was terrified. I was suddenly aware then, dimly, of what men might do to me, how they might take me out of myself, subjecting me to incredible sensations as they, not I, might wish, or choose. Too, if I had so reacted to so small and simple a thing, it was difficult to conjecture how I might behave if subjected to more detailed, subtle or prolonged attentions. I suddenly felt terribly helpless, and yet, too, in a way, eager. Too, what if, horrifying enough, I was not permitted resistance but must, under the sanction of terrible penalties, under the command of masters, open myself fully to feeling, if I were forced to yield, and fully, and was forced, thusly, to collaborate in my own conquest? There was one thing which perhaps, in a way, was in my favor. My entire skin, and body, tonight, was much less responsive than it would normally have been. I could tell that, even from this morning. I had known it, too, from my responses on the platform in the exposition area of the sales barn, at the other end of the long corridor. This had to do with my disappointment in the matter of Teibar, that I was still not within his grasp, that he had not brought me here, in some master’s jest, to reclaim me. I had then understood that, despite all my hopes, I was really, in the end, nothing to him, only another pretty Earth girl, to be brought here merely in the tone of his business, to wear the collar and lick the whip. My sense of abandonment had been acute. How alone I had suddenly realized I was here, on this strange, beautiful world. I had been almost in shock, and without feeling. Too, tonight, I had been, particularly in the last few minutes, almost numbed with misery, and terror, understanding myself being sold. I had been frightened, constricted and tight. I had been, I feared, not beautiful. I had been just the opposite, I feared, of what Ulrick would have wanted. Thus, even though I had been taken unawares by the sudden movement of the auctioneer’s whip, and had moved suddenly, inadvertently, in a manner which might have suggested to some that I was a pleasure slave, I knew that the fullness of what I conjectured would be my typical response to such a touch had not even been hinted at. The full range of my responsiveness, thusly, I congratulated myself, still lay concealed. None could suspect it. I shuddered, though, to think of what it, so delicate and deep, might be under a master’s hands. I could suspect, even from the simple touch I had received, how helpless I might be.

"Two!" called a fellow from behind the rail, raising his hand. "Two and fifty!"

"Two and fifty!" called the auctioneer, pleased. "Two and fifty! Do I hear more?"

The house was quiet.

I looked down. The fellow who had just made the bid, whatever was its amount, was the large, gross, corpulent fellow, he who was so ugly, so frightening.

"Shall I close my hand?" asked the auctioneer. His hand was open, held out to the side.

I looked down at the man.

I twisted in the manacles. I could not free myself. I was a slave!

I looked down at him.

I would wear a collar. I was branded.

I looked down at him.

I knew that in time my body would regain its sensitivity levels, that inexorably its awareness, and helplessness, would return. It would be inevitable, like the rising of water in a well. I could do nothing about it.

I looked down at him.

He looked up at me, and grinned.

"The barbarian is yours!" said the auctioneer, closing his hand.

Now I Know What Made Otis Blue

I like this song. It is slow and doesn't really have that great a sound to it but I like it all the same. It sounds... thoughtful. I think that is the best word I can think of to describe it. I have this song on mp3 and any time it comes up on random play I always find myself singing along with it. I don't really have anything more than that to say, so here are the lyrics.

Now I Know What Made Otis Blue by Paul Young

Mmmmmmm

You've got a hold on me
Hey don't you know
We've gone to far for me to let you go

You sold my love away
And then you tried
To see it burning in a stranger's eyes

I remember the good times
I remember the things we used to do

Now I know what made Otis blue
Girl, it must be love
What we're going through

Now I know what made Otis blue
Every single night
I keep holding you

Don't make me sleep alone
Don't make me bleed
How can you waste your love in jealousy

If we're together baby
Your eyes will see
There is no other lover here with me

Do you remember the good times?
Do you remember when every word was true?

Now I know what made Otis blue
Girl, it must be love
What we're going through

Now I know what made Otis blue
Every single night
I keep holding you

There's no one else, only you
And I'm begging you
Don't turn my heart to hurt this
Oh no

Now I know what made Otis blue
Ooooh

Now I know what made Otis blue
Girl, it must be love
What we're going through

Now I know what made Otis blue
Every single night
I keep holding you

House Of Serpents Trilogy: A Book Review

This book review is a bit different to any I've written thus far, as this time I'm reviewing an entire trilogy rather than a single novel. Also, while I normally write a review within a few days of finishing a book, two of the three books of this trilogy were read long before I even started writing this blog. So with that in mind, on with the review.

House Of Serpents is a Forgotten Realms trilogy by Lisa Smedman. It is primarily set in and around the city state of Hlondeth, which sits on a large ocean inlet called The Vilhon Reach. Hlondeth is a city ruled by the Yuan-ti (a cruel race of snake people), though the population is mostly human. These are the first books to really focus on this strange (and really quite sinister) race. The books are also different from normal Realms novels in that they strongly feature psionics rather than magic.

The books of the trilogy are: Venom's Taste, Viper's Kiss and Vanity's Brood. Whereas Venom's Taste could easily be a self contained novel, the second two books of the series are very much more closely tied together. The main character of the trilogy is Arvin, a maker of magical ropes and nets for the Hlondeth thieves guild. An orphan, he was raised in a strict orphange by monks of Ilmater (the God of Suffering), and was "adopted" by the thieves guild at a young age when they learned of his skill at ropemaking. As the story progresses though he gradually learns more and more psionic skills.

The other main character is Karrell a female yuan-ti pureblood (which means she is only minorly tainted by snake blood, as opposed to an abomination which is almost entirely snake save perhaps for having arms), even though we don't meet her until the second book. Karrell isn't evil like the rest of her race, and she is a cleric of Ubtao (God of the Jungles), a rival to Sseth (the Yuan-ti God). she is on a mission to see that the Circled Serpent (an artifact of great power) is destroyed.

Arvin (and later Karrell too) are oppossed by many different foes, but the most notable amongst them is Zelia (a female yuan-ti psionicist who quickly becomes Arvin's nemesis) who appears in many guises, due to her ability to mind-seed others. This strange psionic power overwhelms another persons mind, erasing it and imprinting it with a duplicate of Zelia's own. The other major opponent is Sibyl, a monstrous four-armed winged yuan-ti abomination who served as Sseth's avatar (divine herald) several years before until the God strangely went silent. She seeks to find out what has happened to her God and return to being his avatar again and she has a cult of fanatics who serve and worship her, to do her bidding.

The trilogy is very well written and certainly not for kids to read, as it is quite sexual in nature in many places. Considering that serpents have been considered sensual since time began, this is I think, a highly appropriate way to have written the books. I think the books could have flowed better though, as I said already the first book could easily have stood alone. Also the descriptions of psionics changed from the first book to the later two, though this isn't the writers fault, as the way psionics work in the D&D game was changed in that time and she had to include that. Still, it is a bit odd.

The plot is fairly convoluted in places, with schemes and counter machinations going on, which is all very well written and typical of the Byzantine politics and intrigues that the Yuan-ti routinely engage in. I'm going to give the trilogy 3/5 overall. It is a good read, but it could be a lot better. the difference between the first book and the later two is my main reason for its score.

Back On Ebay

I've just listed the first seven of the miniatures I recovered from my parents loft last weekend. It's been about 6 months now since I last did any selling on ebay, and a couple months since I last bought anything from there. I enjoy selling more, as I always seem to get sniped at the last moment whenever I'm trying to buy something.

I'm hopeful of getting some good prices for these figures, as they are all long out of print and there were never that many of them made in the first place. The money from these and the sales to come are going to go to pay off my overdraft and then my credit card. I would have spent some of my annual bonus from work that I got paid on Friday on the same task, but a nasty sized electricity bill and the large chunk the taxman took out of the bonus have scuppered that idea. Still, I have money enough to return to business on ebay.

If you want to keep track of what I'm selling and how well (or poorly) my auctions are going, use the link on the sidebar to see a page that summarises every auction I have currently running.