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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the protagonists of your favourite books

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Dark Fantasy

Drangar Ralgon (of Shattered Dreams by Ulff Lehmann)

Dear readers, tonight with me is a man fighting men and demons in a world torn apart.

When war engulfs the land and an ancient evil is about to be released, gods and wizards try to intervene. Our guest was raised as a shepherd, until he found himself embroiled in their machinations – after being dead for a few days.

He is here to tell us about his world and his adventures.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was raised by the Sons of Traksor. And before you ask, the cunts fool others into believing they were tasked by Lesganagh to guard the world against a demonic incursion. Another demonic incursion, I mean. What? Never heard of Lesganagh, have you? He’s the ruler of the gods, the Lord of Sun and War, and some say I was blessed by him as well.

Demons? Yeah, the Sons say that a hundred years ago or so, some asshole found some books in an elven ruin, and upon being promised something or other, you know how it is, power-starved bastard promises another bastard more power if they free them. So, story goes something came out the door the idiots opened. In the end the Kalduuhnean prince Tral of House Kassor beat them back. If you buy into that kind of shit.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Favorite toy? I liked the blunt sword my… da… gave me on my sixth birthday. At least I thought he was my da, bastard only pretended I was his son. Cherished memories? Amidst all the pain of being shunned by other kids, and mocked by my cousin, Dalgor, and generally being treated as an outsider, at best, yes, there were some. Anya, one of the weapons teachers, she didn’t treat me like a leper or target for whatever the others would throw at me. She took me under her wing. Felt nice not being the pariah for a change, but a student. Continue reading “Drangar Ralgon (of Shattered Dreams by Ulff Lehmann)”

Superior Mother (of Women of the Grey: Starburst, by Carol James Marshall)

Dear readers, tonight with me is the chilling leader of an alien race.

She is the Superior Mother, leader of the secretive Women of the Grey. They live amongst us, unknown to humanity.

She is here with her assistant, to answer a few questions.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

“It is understood among my kind that we do not question our leaders. Answers, my sweet, are earned. I hardly believe you have bothered to earn such information from me.”

With this Superior Mother sits back. There is a sense of cold in the air, almost like the first hint of autumn.

Did you have any favorite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Superior Mother learns in, seeming displeased.

“If I had known you were to ask my questions of such insolence I would have prepared myself to be entertained. Our kind does not play. We plan, we build, we watch, and when humans are busy with these toys you speak of, we strike. I do not understand how humans have thrived for so long, with concepts like toys.”

Superior Mother sits back, slowly shaking her head with the occasional tap of a ring on her index finger to the table. Continue reading “Superior Mother (of Women of the Grey: Starburst, by Carol James Marshall)”

Herald (of Golden Dawn by Aldrea Alien)

Dear readers, tonight with me is a man, a demon, straight out of hell. For over a millennium, his catchphrase is “Family and Blood”.

Called to guard a crystal, what appears to be a demotion turns out very different when Herald discovers the angelic creature trapped within it. He’s here to tell us about the difficult and dangerous decisions he had to face.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like in Hell?

I can only speak of the one place. It was a cavern, dry and hot with this red light that emanated from the very stone. There was dust everywhere my siblings and I walked, the remains of less-fortunate clans. Sometimes it was our doing. My twin, Harbinger as father called him once we reached the mortal realm, once tried to find the far walls, but we never managed to find it before it was time to return to the Haven and see if we’d another sibling to add to our numbers.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child?

Very few things were given to us and only those that had practical use. I’d a sword as soon as I could lift one, but it was no toy. The minders who raised us all… Well, we could never be entirely sure what they believed in, but Harbinger and I… We came to consensus that they knew what was beyond the doors to the Haven and wanted to prepare us. Once we left, they no longer cared. I don’t think anyone ever expected us to ever be given the means to leave Hell entirely, though. Continue reading “Herald (of Golden Dawn by Aldrea Alien)”

Gentry Mandrake (of Liefdom by Jesse Teller)

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Dear readers, tonight with me is a creature out of fairy tales – but not those tales we reserve for children. A guardian of a peaceful city, tonight’s protagonist is a fairy like no other.

He is here to tell us about the dark troubles he faces in his society, his longing to belong, and about fighting to protect the human child bound to him.


Tell us a little about yourself and where you come from.

I am a protector, a guardian of the city I live in, and the boy that I was born to. Every time a Gentry fairy is born, a human child is born, a child protected by the Gentry. I protect my child zealously. He is my life, and he is in danger.

The city where I live is called Liefdom. There are many cities in the world of The Veil, but Liefdom is the capital city of all fairy life. We are surrounded by a forest, but all our structures are built into dryad trees. Every tree holding up every house is alive and vibrant, personal. My home is in a tree named Lyadora. She is a black chestnut tree and she strongly dislikes me. I don’t think she hates me; I don’t think she’s capable of hate. But she tells me all the time that I am a monster, that I don’t belong here. Maybe she’s right.

What’s your understanding of hate?

I’m a warrior, so I am intimately engaged with the emotion hate. When I look at a thing that needs to die, I am enveloped with the emotion. My blood heated by it. There are a few things, a few acts, that inspire deep hatred in me. They are all tied to my fate as a protector. The city I live in is often called the City of Innocence. If someone endangers that innocence, my soul boils. There is an adversary out there. I can feel him, as I’m sure he can feel me. His life offends me, though I know not why. He has harmed my child. He has risen to destroy everything. He is poised to take it all away from me, and I know not his name. And I know not his face. But when I near him, I will be able to feel him throbbing in my bones. Continue reading “Gentry Mandrake (of Liefdom by Jesse Teller)”

Quinlan Reis (of The Rhenwars Saga by ML Spencer)

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Dear readers, tonight with me is a man facing imminent cataclysm. A conspiracy of darkmages have resorted to harnessing the powers of Hell to save their legacy, and Quin and his brother Braden are determined to stop them.

A mage himself, but with with a turbulent past and terrible and tragic secrets, he’s part of a band trying to prevent the forces of chaos from boring the Well of Tears into the netherworld, right under their city.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up in Caladorn. What you probably know of as the Black Lands. Of course, back in my day, they weren’t so very black. All that came about later…but that’s a story for another day. I was raised among the horseclans of the Khasahar until it was discovered that my brother and I could sense the magic field. There, on the spot, we were claimed as property of the Lyceum. After that, Braden and I were taken to Bryn Calazar to be trained to our respective orders. The names given to us by our father were stripped from us, our language replaced, our hair shorn…it was an appalling transition, one that I was only too delighted to make at the time. I was rather naïve back then, you see. I was still under the delusion that I might actually make something worthwhile of myself some day. How optimistic I must have been! Or stupid, which basically amounts to the same thing.

What do you do now?

Now? I drink. I’ve been known to frequent a brothel from time to time. It’s a lifestyle that seems particularly suited to my apathetic disposition.

Continue reading “Quinlan Reis (of The Rhenwars Saga by ML Spencer)”

Characters Speaking Out

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Dear readers, while we are taking a short break due to the holidays, I thought we’d include a recent full post done by our very first guest.

As part of Virtual FantasyCon (that awesome event where Felix and Murder In Absentia received an unprecedented five awards), we did a blog hunt. Readers jumped from blog to blog – and as an introduction to our corner of the blogosphere, Felix got a chance to speak for himself.

Of course, the bastard went ahead and started to curse me for making him work. Apparently he’s not big on doing self-promotions without immediate pay.

This post was originally published on Diane Riggins site. I’ll let you read Felix’s words for yourself.


Salve omnibus. My name is Spurius Vulpius Felix, sometimes known as Felix the Fox, but almost everybody calls me just Felix. It means Fortune’s Favourite in my language, though I’m afraid I am more like Furtuna’s favourite butt for practical jokes.

Actually, you may know my language as Latin. Years ago I visited your world, quite by accident. I came to a city named Rome, which was hauntingly similar to my own home in Egretia. Language, artists, philosophers all seemed familiar – yet there were some glaring differences. It was on a river, not on the seashore for one.

And everybody talked about gods and magic, but no one seemed to know how to properly practice it for another.

Anyway, I was approached by one of your world, one by the strange name of Assaph Mehr, and asked to collaborate on my memoirs. I would tell him my life’s stories, all the interesting mysteries I solved, and he promised to publish them to adoring fans in your world.

So far, the mentula hasn’t paid me a single denarius in royalties.

He says it’s a matter of time, that critical review has been exceptional, and that my memoirs are being sold all across your world. I would be paid, eventually, once he has finished repaying all the scribes and artists that have assisted him in the production of the scrolls. Or codices, as it appears your world prefers to bind sheets together, rather than stitch them in a scroll like civilised people.

So here I am, brought here to promote my own memoirs to increase my “fan base”, whatever that may be.

While I am here, I did check out what Assaph has been writing. Mostly true, just embellished a little. For example, there was this one case of a young woman who was haunted by the most dreadful dreams. It turns out that the cellars of her home were infested by lemurs. These are not, as Assaph says, cute and cuddly little creatures who “like to move it”, but rather than animus of unburied dead. They have the resemblance of what might have once been humans, but are now devoid of life and colour; grey shade of the dead.

As the story goes, I had to lure them away from the house and into the Mundus, the gates to the underworld. I distinctly remember that I told Assaph that I counted 44 of the evil spirits chasing me, but he insisted on making it fifty. He said that writing a story called Fifty Grey Shades would help him sell my memoirs, though I didn’t quite understand why.

So I will be here all week, always happy to answer questions and do everything to help Assaph increase our “fan base”. You can read the story about the Fifty Grey Shades on Assaph’s “website” (I won’t even pretend to understand what that is) here: https://egretia.com/short-stories/, together with a few more other short adventures. My first important case has been published as Murder In Absentia, and is available here: http://amzn.to/1XbfKN1. You can buy it for less than the price of a half-decent glass of wine (Assaph insists that that is the only way to go; you people do not seem to appreciate authors as a respectable profession). And lastly, Assaph has, apparently, been talking to other characters from fellow authors’ scrolls. You can find them on TheProtagonistSpeaks.com.


If you like to read more of Felix, you can read the (free) short stories he appears on at his home of egretia.com. You can also find him on the pages of Murder In Absentia, where his memoirs swept the amazing five awards at Virtual FanatsyCon.

We will resume our regular interviews next week, when we will be hosting a woman whose music moved heaven and earth. Please follow the site by email (bottom-right), via Twitter, or like our Facebook page to be notified when the next interview is posted.

Lia (of The Veiled Soul by Abbie Chandler)

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Dear readers, tonight with me is a woman doomed to pay for crimes she doesn’t remember committing. As a grim reaper, the split of time between life and death is the only chance she gets to feel anything real.

She is here to tell us about the ephemeral transition between life and death, and of what binds her to the mortal world.

 

 

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I have absolutely no idea where I grew up. As a grim reaper, my memories of my life (and the crime that got me here) have been wiped clean, and I’m stripped of my soul. The only life I’ve ever known is the reaper realm. It occupies the same space as the physical world. Same buildings, same things, but there are no people. There is no color. I leave ghostly footprints. I could be crashing is your guest bedroom or stealing your coffee. I can’t stick around in the same place very long, so I bounce around from houses to hotel rooms. The only thing I’m meant to do is reap souls, but residual urges drive me. I eat. I sleep. I run. I have sex. It’s muted and emotionless, but I guess it’s the only way I can connect to what I used to be.

How did you get here?

As a reaper, I’m unable to connect any living being. They’re not supposed to be able to see me. Just before I was ripped out of the reaper realm and thrust back into the physical world, I was supposed to reap the soul of a murdered young girl. The only problem is that the killer was there, and he could SEE me, and he seemed to know me. Then, instead of killing the girl, he tried to kill me. It’s not even possible to kill a reaper, but in that moment, my whole world shifted, and I was in the middle of a parking lot, bleeding to death. So now I’m trying to piece together how I got out, why a human could see a reaper, and what I did in the past to be a reaper to begin with. To make matters worse, I feel a constant pull to kill. I have no soul. I feel a bit like a monster.

But it’s nothing like him. They call him the Phoenix. Before he tried to murder me, I felt his soul. It was solid. Pure evil. Continue reading “Lia (of The Veiled Soul by Abbie Chandler)”

Dr. Skylar Santangelo (of Healing The Witch Of Adelaide Glen by J.C. Stockli)

JC Stockli - Healing The Witch Of Adelaide GlenDear readers, tonight with me is one of our leading legal prosecutors. As it turns out, his grudge against the paranormal and supernatural lies with some dark secrets in his past.

 

 

Tell us about where you grew up and studied. How did you get from slums to academia? What is your PhD about?

[chuckles] Mamma moved to the States when I was real young. I grew up in a housing project in the south end of the city. I never aspired to leave the hood. I liked it there. I was someone to be known there, but every smart-ass punk has it coming to him, I guess. I chose academia over incarceration. My boys from back on the day found their path on the straight and narrow and guided me along. I’d be dead without those guys, no doubt. In terms of my PhD, the only subjects that made sense were theology and demonology. I’m what you’d call a “subject matter expert.”

Tell us about those tats – what made you get them? Is there an overall design?

[turns head down with a furrowed brow] There’s a method to every man’s madness. Some of my ink is just the result of being a stupid punk. Others…? Yeah, they mean something… but we’re not getting into that here. Next question, man. Continue reading “Dr. Skylar Santangelo (of Healing The Witch Of Adelaide Glen by J.C. Stockli)”

Nameless (of the Followers of Torments series by K. Caffee)

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Dear readers, tonight is a first for us! With us is someone – some thing – without a name, one of the legendary Pukah. “What are the Pukah?” I hear you ask. Well, that is something that we would all like to know. Due to the Pukah rather, errm, unique nature, their creator K. Caffee is also with us. So it’s our absolute pleasure to break new grounds, and interview both the protagonist and the author at the same time!

 

 

So what, exactly, are the Pukah?

Know not me.  Some me pukah call, Master am, Runner am, Silk was.  Pukah?  Di’tang ask must.

(K. Caffee:  Until Nameless encountered Raonal, he had no idea he was anything other than an unusually adept fighter.  Even Raonal (Nameless calls him Di’tang – or Silken slave) hasn’t been able to fully explain the race.

The short answer is that they are a type of faerie crossbreed.  Typically, a pukah will bring joy, laughter, and inspiration into the life of anyone they meet, though there are some whose tendencies lean towards the more malicious end of the spectrum.  The full answer can be found here: “What are Pukah?”  (http://wp.me/p4Uq5a-1k)

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

Live I, eat I.  Obey must always, exactly.  Question not.  Play, fun have, free was.  Her honor always everything.  Honor not, live not eat not.  Speak She, tell all, teach well.  Obey did, live I, eat I.

(K. Caffee:  Nameless was born to the slave cells of the Melkresken and was not socialized until he was about seven.  Before that, he remained in complete isolated darkness.  Between the pukah inability to tell unadulterated truths and his early childhood, he mangles his syntax.  I’m just happy he can string together an almost coherent sentence – most children raised in similar environments never manage to accomplish that. Even after he began learning to speak, he remained in isolation until he became an adult.) Continue reading “Nameless (of the Followers of Torments series by K. Caffee)”

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