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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

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Rogan (of Forward Banners, Jamie Powell-McCrae)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a recently ascended prince, here to talk leading his people against ruthless invaders to his kingdom.

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

I’m Rogan, Prince of Blythinia – the central kingdom of Elyria, and younger brother to Rodar.  We both reside at the capital, Blythia, the seat of power of our late father.  It is a pleasant place: a sprawling city atop a hill, that sits both overlooking the upper lake of the River Slow Water and nestled beneath the first marches of the Spine mountains that separate the kingdoms of men from the north and the distant elurons.  Blythia is both rugged yet beautiful, modern yet old.  I’ve spent all my life there, apart from following our father to neighbouring Courlan to visit the Rennes, his – and now our – great allies.  Other than that I spent my three years at the Citadel like all of my rank and birth, learning the ways of war, courtly affairs and scholarly, educated strands.

You mentioned your father; what happened there?

He passed away nearly a year ago.  Unfortunately, I would be lying if I said I was stricken about it.  He and I never saw eye to eye.  Rodar was his favourite son, the very image of him in fact: cock-sure, confident, a talented soldier.  He decided to take Rodar with him to Sacaria during the troubles with the Avonners, whilst I was due to be married off to some merchant’s daughter.  Rodar would rebuke me for saying, but I think things have turned out for the better, despite King Jaime being perhaps the best military leader we need against this invasion plaguing Elyria.

What will you do now in light of your father’s passing and this invasion?

My brother and I will share rule and forego the expected passing of power to the eldest son.  Rodar’s a capable military man and will be able to lead our forces against this new threat.  I have confidence in him, and so too do the generals.  We have mustered all our strength and marched south to meet this invading force of ‘Bronzemen’ as they are commonly called.  The pride of Blythinia has ridden out: the White Lancers, the Retinars, our personal Blue Cloaks.

What has been your greatest achievement?

I suppose it would have to be ascending Retinars’ Rock, the lower peaks of the Spine that tower over Blythia.  It’s the final hurdle to pass into the ranks of the Retinars, one of our elite cavalry orders where any man can join despite his birth or heritage.  There upon that frozen precipice I carved my name into the rock amongst the hundreds who had surpassed me.

And a more recent affair would be the recent peace that was forged with Avon.  It wasn’t all my success, but I played a significant part, and I don’t think I’d be wrong in saying that it was my words at the end when our treaty was looking to fail that saved it.  I think it was a great achievement nonetheless; we couldn’t march to war without securing our western border.

Continue reading “Rogan (of Forward Banners, Jamie Powell-McCrae)” →
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Charles and Jake Dawson (of The Heights of Valor, by David Tindell)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a Special Forces soldier — together with his distant ancestor. They are here to talk about combat and the bonds of men, and how the Army changed in over a century.

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

CHARLES DAWSON: I was born in Platteville, Wisconsin, in 1876. My father, Jeremiah, became an attorney after his service for the Union Army in the Rebellion. As a center of lead mining activity in that part of the state, Platteville is a bustling town with much to offer a young man, including a Normal School and a Mining School. Much of my childhood was spent with Father, hiking and riding among the ridges and coulees, hunting rabbit and deer and fishing the Mississippi and Wisconsin rivers.

JAKE DAWSON: Man, I can’t believe I’m in the same room with my ancestor, the guy who wrote the journal that I’ve been reading. You really fought for Teddy Roosevelt in Cuba?

CHARLES: I believe this mysterious gentleman addressing us asked you a question. Are all 21st century young men so impertinent?

JAKE: Well, hell, are all 19th century young men wearing starched collars like that one? No wonder you’re sitting there, stiff as a board. Relax, Gramps! This is about the coolest thing ever, us being together like this. (To the interviewer.) Okay, I was born in 1990, and grew up in Minocqua, up in northern Wisconsin, where my mom and I moved after she and my dad divorced. He was a congressman, then a college professor. We didn’t get along for a long time, way different political views, but things have been turning around, I think. But anyway, in Minocqua we lived on a lake, so I did my share of fishing and hunting, too. You grow up in small-town Wisconsin, or out in the country, that’s what you do. My Uncle John—he’s my great-uncle, actually, Grampa Dennis’ brother—taught me to hunt and fish. When I was fourteen, we were out on the lake and I got a musky, a big one, about forty pounds.

CHARLES: Indeed? I’ve heard of the musky. On the Mississippi, it was catfish for us, and bluegills. Perhaps trout in some of the streams. My father and I brought in a thirty-pound cat one day.

JAKE: Hey, that’s a nice fish. Got a picture of it?

CHARLES: A what?

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

CHARLES: My sister Margaret and I often played jacks, and at school it was hopscotch, and of course we played baseball. My favorite player was Hoss Radbourn, the great pitcher for the Beaneaters.

JAKE: Beaneaters? That’s a minor-league team, right?

CHARLES (indignantly): Of course not. They played in the National League, and at the time of my service in Cuba, they were in the midst of a strong season.

JAKE: Well, baseball’s fun, but I don’t know about this Beaneaters outfit. My team’s the Milwaukee Brewers. Growing up, my sport was wrestling. State champion my junior year at Lakeland Union High, then repeated my senior year, then off to Madison, All-American there before I left for the Army. My best memory? I’d have to say it’s a tie, between winning my second state title and getting a gift from Angie Egan a couple nights after I got back from State in Madison. (He gives Charles a wink.)

CHARLES: A gift? (He frowns, then smiles.) Oh, yes. I, uh, received such a gift myself, upon my return from Cuba. Her name was Leona. Would you like to see a carte de vesite of her?

JAKE: What’s that? (He is handed a sepia-toned piece of cardboard.) Oh, you mean “a picture.” Hey, she’s pretty good-looking, although that dress doesn’t do much for her. (He produces a cell phone, taps three buttons, and shows it to Charles.) This isn’t Angie, but it’s Sam, my wife, who’s even better-looking than Angie, and that’s saying something.

CHARLES: What a remarkable device. How does it—good Lord, she has hardly a stitch of clothing on!

JAKE (laughing): It’s called a bikini, Gramps!

Gentlemen, please! What do you do now?

JAKE: First Lieutenant, United States Army, 5th Special Forces Group.

CHARLES: My service was in the 1st U.S. Volunteer Cavalry. After my discharge, I returned to my studies at the University of Wisconsin. Upon graduation, I shall enter the School of Law, and then join my father’s firm in Platteville.

JAKE (yawning): That sounds exciting.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

CHARLES (sitting up proudly): With my father’s blessing, and his assistance, I joined the Rough Riders, and served under Lt. Col. Theodore Roosevelt in Cuba, helping to free the people from their Spanish oppressors.

JAKE: Hey, I always wanted to ask you something. You guys deployed into a combat zone with what, three weeks of training? Just three weeks?

CHARLES: That was all the time we had, yes.

JAKE (shaking his head): Hell, it’s a miracle any of you made it home alive.

CHARLES: Indeed? What kind of training did you receive, might I ask?

JAKE: Hey, in our Army, you don’t get close to a deployment till you’ve been in for about a year. There’s a lot to learn. And if you’re in SF, like I am, or the 75th Rangers, like I was before SF, well, we’re talking six more months to a year before you go downrange.

CHARLES: My word…

JAKE (shrugging): Well, tell you what, Gramps, in my time we aren’t exactly going up against a bunch of Spanish draftees, that’s for damn sure.

Continue reading “Charles and Jake Dawson (of The Heights of Valor, by David Tindell)” →
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Phil (of The Rose, by PD Alleva)

Dear readers, tonight we print an overheard conversation between a human protagonist and a millennium-old cephalopod, discussing vampires, aliens, and alien vampires.

Phil, standing on a floor made of water, watched as the atmosphere cracked in front of him. Watched as the crack raced to the right and left. Behind the barrier water tumbled into the space from far away and high above, racing towards the barrier, and rising high overhead, ten feet above him. It was when the water settled to a calm flow that he saw the famed giant cephalopod, Artemis. His tentacles pushing through the water to the barrier between him and Phil. His eyes, large and round and bright white with a black dot for pupils, watched Phil with a stare Phil assumed was both suspicious and intrigued. Phil understood he had to come, but the why behind the reason he was never told. His hands, clenched into fists, shook by his side. He had more dire circumstances to tend to, and this meeting boiled his blood. Having to take part in an interview with Artemis was a waste of time and time was not on his side.

Artemis floated in the water, assessing, scrutinizing, and scanning Phil. When he spoke, his voice was carried across the water and echoed through the chamber where Phil stood, garbled and liquidly was his voice.

Artemis: Did Robyn tell you why I’ve requested your presence?

Phil: Robyn speaks in riddles, so no. (He paused, watching Artemis and how his lips curled into his mouth. Phil cleared his throat). But I assume it’s because of the glimmer and the change in the Akashic record. Robyn is quite disturbed by this change. Do you know who caused it?

Artemis: I have my suspicions. (He pushed forward, closer to the barrier as if the closer proximity would allow him to stare into Phil’s thoughts). Perhaps you already know.

Phil (with a slow shake of his head, his mouth agape): I… I have no idea who changed the record.

Artemis (pushing back, his tentacles flapping in the water): Let us see your mind then. Allow your thoughts to go free. I see you’ve blocked your thoughts from telepathy. Release the barrier. If you are innocent as you as claim than allow me entrance. (His tentacles pointed to Phil’s right). Project your thoughts to the wall. I want to see the past through your eyes. Show us your youth. Where you were born. How you were raised.

Phil (Staring at the ground, gritting his teeth. He turned to the wall, watching as the liquid barrier changed, projecting his thoughts on the watery screen. Saw his birth and the vampires surrounding him and his mother): I was born on an island. Born into slavery.  My mother the same and hundreds of others. Forced to endure, to work in the mines searching for minerals and gold. Forced into bondage, slaves provided for torture. Both Drac and human alike indulged in the desecration of children. Forced to reproduce to maintain their slave numbers. My mother was a beacon of hope during my time there. Unfortunately, she was murdered by the Drac vampires before I was rescued by Robyn.

Artemis: How did he know to rescue you? And after, what did Robyn teach you? What was living like?

Phil: I don’t know how Robyn was able to rescue me. You’d have to ask him. All I know is, I kept my eyes focused on the light, just like my mom had told me. And then he appeared. Took me to the underground where I was raised by him and away from normal society. It wasn’t until I was eight years old that I discovered the human population living above ground. Saw something called a television and on that television were two humans I had seen on numerous occasions on the island. But there on the island they would pat each other on the back, as if they were best friends. But on that television, those same two men were pretending to be enemies. Robyn had said they did so to create confusion and division among the people. A needed commodity for the elite to keep their stranglehold over the population.

(He stepped closer to the wall, watching himself as a child, being trained by Robyn). From what I was told, my education was very different than most other humans. With knowledge and training within science of mind concepts, telepathy, telekinesis, quantum mechanics and alchemy. Including a comprehensive history of our species and our planet, Earth, untold to the humans above ground. I was taught the power of energy, frequency, and vibration. How the universe is a recycling pattern of energy and how the dominant frequency within that vibration slithers into the consciousness of all who live within its vibrational hold. That the balance between the vibrations rages on, and how we, Robyn’s people, were the keepers of that balance. Should the scales tip to far in one favor, the universe can be destroyed faster than the speed of thought. We fight to keep the balance, with the understanding that in order for the universe to evolve peacefully the correct mix of these two polar opposite vibrations are required, with the light capturing the dark in its embrace and not the opposite. Because dark energy has no restraint, it only wishes to consume and that consumption can lead to total annihilation. But perhaps that is what the darkness desires, to destroy the light and remake the universe into darkness.

We lived peacefully and in quiet solitude, except when Robyn called on us for special missions. It was then that he taught me the sacred martial arts of Kobudo Tonfa, fighting with the blades, and the power behind the rose manipulation offering the ability to change chemistry with a thought, move objects with my mind, and suspend gravity. The rose is an all-powerful resource if used and wielded properly.

Continue reading “Phil (of The Rose, by PD Alleva)” →
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Ameela (of The Manderian Halden: Tales From The Sehnsucht part 1, by Keyla Damaer)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an artist, working with refugees and standing up to the galactic dictator.

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

I was born on Lyra III, a Gaia planet in Federal Coalition space. The Lyran system is binary, and people originating from it sport coloured freckles near earlobes, down necks, and around other erogenous zones. My father was an art teacher, and my mother was an art dealer. I grew up breathing art. At three, they gave me an art digibook as a gift. That was the beginning of my artistic journey. Of course, my parents supported me all along. Unfortunately, they didn’t survive long enough to cherish my successes with me.

What do you do now?

I’m an artist. I just finished an important commission for a rich customer. Before signing new contracts, I decided to take a sabbatical year and travel the galaxy to visit locations famous for their ancient ruins. That’s why I came here to Ketar. I wanted to study the Valley of Kings and create some art inspired by the ancient history of the Shedirian people.

But you haven’t been spending much time studying old ruins lately.

It took me a week to set up a team to get to the place, but my guide had an accident at the last moment, and we had to postpone. So, I stayed in the village, and ten days ago, I met this guy in a bar. We’ve been spending a lot of time together since then. He’s a terrific subject for a series of portraits I was working on back home.

Is he? I can’t think of anything further from art than a Manderian.

I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a Lyran. That’s quite xenophobic, don’t you think? Anyway, his features are exotic. One doesn’t meet a Manderian every day and doesn’t get killed. I couldn’t lose the chance and asked him immediately to be my model. I didn’t think he would accept, and from the face he made, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting that kind of request. He accepted, so here I am, drawing Manderian scales every day.

Continue reading “Ameela (of The Manderian Halden: Tales From The Sehnsucht part 1, by Keyla Damaer)” →
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Valentin de Broceliande (of The Signet Ring, by Ellis L. Knox)

Dear readers, tonight with us is the leader of a wandering troupe of acrobats, dancers, singers, and performers of small wonders. In a misty forest and a bizarre twist of fate (or the gods), he ran into our own Felix. We faithfully reprint their conversation.

A cold night. Mist settles over the pine forest, obscuring the thin moon. Two men pass through each other.

“Whup,” one said. “I didn’t see you.”

“Nor I you,” the other said. “Not even as you walked through me.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Hard to miss.”

The first man held out his hand. The other reached out as well. Their hands met but did not touch.

“Even harder not to miss, seemingly.”

“This is strange upon strange,” the first man said. “, but we can be strange without being strangers. My name is Valentin de Broceliande.”

The second man raised an eyebrow. “You’re well-spoken for a barbarian.”

“I’m no barbarian, sir. As you see, I am not jabbering bar-bar-bar.”

“Heh. Fair enough. Valens Tine De Bro….”

“Call me Val.”

“I can manage that. My own name is Spurius Vulpius Felix, from here in Egretia.”

“The Lucky Fox?”

“Er, call me Felix, if you please. I like to think I depend more on skill than luck.” He cocked his head. “Your blond hair and blue eyes say you are from the north. What brings you so far south?”

“Magic, seemingly, for I am not so far south. Only in Suevia.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “But the Suevi dwell north of great mountains.”

Val nodded. “Indeed.”

“This has to be some sort of sorcery,” Felix declared, “though I’m not sure to what purpose.”

“Or it’s the work of the gods, and therefore has no sensible purpose at all.”

Felix chuckled again. “We seem to have a similar temperament, friend. Come, let us sit and see what we can puzzle out from this puzzle.”

“It’s a cold night, but this is worth a talk,” Val agreed. “I’ll sit here on this stump.”

“And I on my bench here. You will not be surprised to hear that to me you too are sitting on a bench.”

“No, on a stump,” Val said. “Just as you are.”

They shared another chuckle.

“Tell me, Val,” Felix said, “what brings you to this place … wherever it is?”

“We travel further north, looking for work.”

“We?”

“The Compagnie des Trouvères, a performing group.”

“Ah. You are an actor?”

“Director. I’m the padron of our little troupe. We do plays, but we are also acrobats, dancers, singers, and performers of small wonders.” He paused. “And yourself?”

“I am,” Felix hesitated a little, “an independent investigator.”

“That’s a curious title.”

“It’s an occupation more than a title. I look into … well … wonders both large and small. For a fee.”

“Oh, I see. I’ve done a little of that myself, though not always intentionally.”

“How so?”

“The Trouvères were indeed south not so long ago. On Capreae we recovered a valuable ring for the Duke of Calabria, for which we were paid.”

Continue reading “Valentin de Broceliande (of The Signet Ring, by Ellis L. Knox)” →
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Lady Hawise (of The Deadly Favour, by Ruth Danes)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a fun-loving, flirtatious young lady, recently widowed and keen to avoid the nunnery. She volunteers to go to Castle Malwarden as a hostage, hoping to make a second marriage afterwards. She is here to tell about a world full of dragons, plots and treachery.

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

I grew up the world on the other side of the void. You have your smartphones, democracies and airplanes. We have dragons, noble houses, and our own religion. Someone who came over through a portal called us pagans and said our religion reminded her of mediaeval Catholicism. I’m not sure how she would know that. I mean, it is 2015 in both worlds, and she could not time travel.

Still, I wasn’t offended, and I understood what she meant. Our worlds are completely different. You have cybercrime and climate change. We have ongoing wars between different kingdoms and houses, even if we all follow the same religion.

The wars dominated my life as a child. Being high-born only partially shielded me. By the time I was ten, I had lost all of my family, and so I went to stay with my guardians as their ward. It was there that I met Bessy, another noble girl orphaned by war, and we soon became as close as sisters. She is my rock.

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

Being brought up as a noble child meant I had plenty of material possessions, despite the wars. I confess I have always loved the finer things in life.

I’d rather not talk about my childhood. There are too many painful memories there. I’ve lost too many people, and it’s never been my way to dwell on anything painful longer than I need to.

What do you do now?

Well, I’m widowed without children, and I want to marry again. It’s just unfortunate that my behavior has given me a reputation for being overly light-hearted and fickle. Fun to flirt with, good to lie with and agreeable to spend time with but not the right sort of woman to settle down with. No sensible man will propose to me, and few people take me seriously.

However, I have a plan to make people take me more seriously, which will increase my chances of marrying again in time.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

My latest adventure is a direct consequence of my plan. My house, the House of Lothwold in the Woldsheart, needed to exchange three hostages with our enemy, the House of Malwarden in the Westlands, in order to ensure that a recently-declared truce is kept.

It is customary for children to be exchanged, but the only actual rule is that they have to be of noble blood. By offering myself as a hostage, people will appreciate me more, thus raising my chance of making another marriage. (My absence will also give them time to forget my past behavior).

Continue reading “Lady Hawise (of The Deadly Favour, by Ruth Danes)” →
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Emmaline (Emme) Mayson (of Mayson-Dickson Mysteries, by Jocie McKade)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a woman thrown into becoming a private detective. She is here to talk about opening her own agency, of murders, betrayals, and dysfunctional family relationships.

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

Hey, I’m Emme Mayson, well now, I am. I used to be Emmaline Roberts, until my life got really twisted, like trying pull on spandex panties on a wet body. If you hear a voice in the background it’s my sister Jackie Dickson, just ignore her.

I was raised in a little town call Scrugg’s Corner, Alabama. It’s not too far from Huntsville. My dad raised me, as my mom died when I was two, at least that’s what I was told. Ms. Rose Dushae who babysat me became my ‘mom’, and I trust her on all things. She was widowed and had three sons, so I grew up a ‘tom-boy’. One my early loves was old buildings and I graduated from Auburn University with a degree in Architecture. Go War Eagles! Go Tigers! Hehe, y’all we just do that to confuse Yankees.

Now, I live in Virginia Beach, Virginia with a twin sister I never knew existed. That little tidbit begins our Mayson-Dickson Investigations.

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

Being raised by a single dad had it challenges. I mean, did you ever try to talk to you dad about ‘girl’ things, or sex, or, well, you get the idea. Bless his heart he did pretty good, but usually he just called Rosie and asked for help, and he always bought me jewelry and it was always a heart.

On the plus side, I can fish, clean it and eat it too. I’ve driven NASCAR race cars and he enrolled me in defensive driving programs. That could be why I terrify my sister when I drive.

“Ya, think?” Came a voice from the background.

I warned you about my sister.

Anyway, I’m a very outdoors girl, and even won the Junior Championship Skeet Shooting contest three years in a row.

While I didn’t know it at the time, the best thing my dad taught me was to be observant and always look for a way out. I did not know how handy that would become.

One thing I’ve always wanted though was to know my mom. I never got a chance, and dad didn’t talk about her much. I think it was just too painful for him.

What do you do now?

I am a partner in Mayson-Dickson Investigations. You might say I fell into the job. Shhh! My sister Jackie Dickson is laughing at me. Alright, I’ll tell the truth Jackie, you just hush. Jackie and I were thrown, yes thrown, into an ‘off-the-books’ Witness Protection program. That is how we ended up in Virginia Beach. “What? I am getting to the point! Yankees. She’s from BOOOSSTTON.” Anyway, as we were trying to figure out what was going on, we walked along the beach and a very dead body washed up, landing on me. Ewww! Ewww! I will never get over that stink.

As we tried to drown our uncertainly with margaritas, we decided we’d make good private investigators, and it would be a legitimate way to look for details as to why we are in this witness protection program.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

So far, we’ve solved a few cases, but as for the investigation into our parents we’ve just gotten more questions than answers. In our second caper YANKEE TENACITY, a murder victim literally falls into the bed of my brand new truck. I’m a pickup truck girl, and, hang on….”Jackie, do not be calling me a redneck. I’m surprised you can say the word since y’all from Boston have no letter “R” in your alphabet.” Sorry, where were we? Oh, ya, dead body in the bed of my truck dressed in a kilt no less.

“I’m getting to it.” Why are Yankees always in a rush? Just let me tell the story.” There are currently four books in the series, and I have a habit of attracting dead bodies. “What’s that?” Oh, that’s my sister’s maniacal laugh. She seems to think it’s funny that dead bodies have a way of, well, finding me.

Our author has a released coming out in late September — Battlemints of Blue — yes, I know it’s misspelled, but y’all will understand when you read it. It begins with the dead body of the director of our Witness Protection program dead…..and gulp……ME being kidnapped. Oh, and the introduction of a new cast member U.S. Marshall Dillon.

Continue reading “Emmaline (Emme) Mayson (of Mayson-Dickson Mysteries, by Jocie McKade)” →
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Cal Rogan (of his eponymous Cal Rogan Mysteries series, by Robert P. French)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an ex-cop private investigator. He’s here to tell us about living on the mean streets, and coming out of retirement to save an innocent kid from jail.

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

I grew up all over Vancouver. I only have a vague memory of my dad. My mother and I moved a lot. It was only as I got older that I learned she saved money by defaulting on rent payments so that she could send me to university. Because we moved so much, I didn’t make a lot of friends until I got to high school.

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

I guess I had the usual toys, such as my mom could afford. The only vivid memory I have is of watching TV with a man. I guess he was my dad, though I can’t say for sure. It was an old cartoon about a moose and a squirrel I think.

What do you do now?

I’m a private investigator. I started Stammo Rogan Investigations with another former cop, Nick Stammo. Nick was run down by a couple of crooks and he’s in a wheelchair now. He was my partner at the time and I always think that if I could have done more, I could have avoided the event that put him in that wheelchair. It’s funny, in the VPD, we really disliked each other but now we’re partners.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I’d kind of retired from the PI business. There was an unfortunate conclusion to a case of a missing girl who had been abducted. It really soured me to the business of saving people. But when I heard about this kid who was in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, I just had to help him. It was tough. All the DNA evidence pointed to him being guilty of killing his girlfriend but I knew the cop who investigated the murder and he was dirty. I knew I had to help the kid. Little did I know the problems it would cause and that it would put my whole family in danger.

Continue reading “Cal Rogan (of his eponymous Cal Rogan Mysteries series, by Robert P. French)” →
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Mr Muller (of The New Age: The Caribbean witch, by Vox Deruste)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an other-worldly spirit, here to tell us about the coming apocalypse where one family must survive— where family drama, trauma, and mythical creatures are just the start.

As the door shined with energy inside it, a figure emerges from it. First a handmade of a noxious white gas. Then from it a unnaturally arm and body, all made up of the same smoke with the proportions of a stick figure. The face was nothing but two orbs of pale, sickly white and a closed mouth that occasionally revealed deathly white teeth.

(shifting the neck in cracking manner) Alright, lets get this interview over with. I have business with a tricksy Indian in Puerto Rico about a staff.

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

(Smirks with a Cheshire grin) I am not at liberty to share that bit of information but I can share other bits. I am the representative of Europa to the America’s. Back in the glory days of colonization I was sent to make sure that the magical elements of the indian’s-

Why do you refers to the American natives by outdated terms?

(rolls his eyes) fine, the natives, I was sent by the leading magical elements to keep things civil. To make sure the mortals war of conquest would not be interfered with. Agreement the Eura-Asian gods had since the days of Christ.

Why?

(shrugs) I am not asked to question but to maintain but think of it this way. If worship is power and the Christian/Muslim god was allowed to fight the other gods directly…How long would the pagan god’s last. We are lucky the Christian and Muslim prefers to humiliate them. Letting them simmer in hate as his worshiper grows.

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

(Muller manifests a sharp weapon, a runic axe that has Norse runes on it.)

I would leave the question of my past behind your prominent thoughts.

(Muller presses the flat of the axe next to the interviewer’s head, and says with cold pale eyes staring into the soul): Unless you wish to know the rage of a Hari.

What do you do now?

As I said earlier its about making sure that the natives give us a fair shake of things. When the magical order of the Pantheons came to the America’s the colonist and native population was split in two. The magical and the mortal. The mortals had their wars and their revolutions while we offered the magical native population the option to keep their traditions and way of life while allowing the colonist to mimic the biggest cities in the magical realms.

In essence, I am the middle man between the city dwelling colonists and rural natives. And the one that prepares the apocalypse on the Europa end.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

(shrugs with little regard) It is as I said and to answer two questions, yes. That is my current duty. The world is dying, the humans poisoned the planet and many magical creature want to reclaim the world they lost. When the Christ was resurrected in Rome, magic began to dimmish in mortal realm so it started as survival. Then the Abrahamic god grew in strength to the point of necessity. And now.

(Muller manifest from his wrist a trio of symbols. A star of David, a star and moon, and a cross. He then tossed them up in the air-slicing them all into pieces with his axe.)

We will reclaim it, when the time is right. For instance, when I get my staff after this annoying interview.

Continue reading “Mr Muller (of The New Age: The Caribbean witch, by Vox Deruste)” →
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