By the early morning light

Snow in the south is a rarity. I made the boys play in it early, cooked a warm breakfast, Amy made stove top hot chocolate, and then I sent them out again. so sad it will be gone by noon..

Meme Monday!

In case you missed it on my Facebook page, here is today's Bol Meme.

Need a link to get your copy?

Amazon page

#steampunk #fantasy #epicadventure #epicfantasy

Heroes=good, villains= bad, but is that all?

Good heroes are essential to a good story for they inspire and challenge the reader to be better than they are. Evil villains fall into the 'I can't stand that guy,' or 'I love to hate that guy," camps. They are there not only to foil the heroes, but also reveal aspects of society i.e. ourselves, that we do not like and want to change. In between are a myriad of characters that fit neither mold. Some of the most relatable heroes are the ones who are morally and ethically flawed yet strive to do what is right when it matters. And it is difficult to truly hate a a villain who does good things even though they are unethical and immoral.

I so enjoy a varied and diverse group, I like the ensemble. However, the internal struggle between personalities can spin the story into a quagmire. The fine line between healthy, drama focused tension and useless bickering, separates the good stories form the bad.

So tell me how I did. Did I bog the story down in too many interpersonal squabbles?

Experimentation in Memes.

Afternoon all, I love Memes. The quick humor, the fast communication, and the essence of an issue relate to me and my sense of humor. So I'm sharing with you some of my own creations. I'm starting a Meme Monday post on the blog, the facebook pages, and my website. Here is my first one that I just love.

Gearing up for Christmas, Thankful for the new fans.

I have been blessed by each person who has taken a chance and bought a copy of Birth of Legends. The feedback from each one I have contacted enjoyed the story, the characters, and the setting. (Most of the young men gravitated toward the gear, swords, and action.) If you have a specific section that you enjoyed, please post it below.

Thankful seems very small a word for the reviews of BoL, and Murder in the Dust. They mean so much for the time and kind words given to me and the book. I often tell new buyers, that, "your review is just like gold, to me." If the story has touched your heart, entertained you, or made you think about larger questions in life, take a few moments to type that review. (Amazon, Barns & Noble, or Goodreads.com)

If you have been on the fence about the book, Christmas is the perfect time to get a copy. Really, you can get one for a friend and then they can confirm the reviews. Put it on your 'wish list,' and let others get a copy, both plans will benefit you!

For my fans, think about gifting a copy to someone you know will enjoy it.

Thank you all, Happy Thanksgiving, and get ready for Merry Christmas.

Short story for your enjoyment

Not to spoil anything, Kale's lone adventure presented here, may have repercussions for the entire group later.

Chufi¹ at the Door

            Kale pushed open the well-weathered, grey oak door. Warmth and familiar aromas assailed him, relieving the road weariness. Many glassy-eyed patrons fiercely glared at him as he stood there, dripping from the hard rain. One button nosed, full bearded young man yelled at him.

            “Get in or get out, I don’t care which!” he yelled, his button nose twitched as he snorted in disgust. Kale took a bold step forward and closed the door. The people in the room slowly resumed their conversations as he shook the rain off his long coat and hat. He brushed the water from his hilts of his short swords, then mentally checked each of his six daggers. He fiddled with his Snake Ring on his left hand. He rubbed the reddish brown stubble on his chin. In the midst of running from the law, this simple roadhouse stood as a beacon in the cold, rainy night to Kale. He felt at home for some of his best friends frequented establishments like these. The small room held only six tables at which ten men sat.

The barkeep called to him and he ordered his favorite stiff drink, Goblin Grog. The long bar must have been here for years by the look of the aged and stained oak planks. The stink of moldy, musty men stuck him as odd, but not out of place. He had to struggle to look intimidating when he could barely rest his elbow on the high bar. He wished he had polymorphed his normal five foot four stature a little taller before he entered. He heard a stifled giggle from behind him. He could hear the sputter and slight hiss of the gas lams on the dark stained wooden walls. He picked up words from various conversations, but none interested him. The keep was a tall strong man, salt and pepper hair down to his collar with slightly pointed ears, and a stained cotton shirt. Kale saw relieved to see no malice nor suspicion in his green eyes. He almost pointed out this man’s mixed heritage, but decided against it. He did not like it, so why should he do it to others.

Glancing side to side, the keep pulled out a dust covered bottle. The deep, brackish vileness slid and plopped into the shot glass. Kale slammed it back and pointed for another. He took it, turned to face the room and scanned each face. Mordic had always told him to have a plan to beat enough people to get out of anywhere in one piece. By the size and age of this crowd, he would have a difficult time in not seriously injuring everyone here. This mental distraction blurred his vision and tuned out the din of conversation. His mind meandered to the events of the last couple of days, specifically the fleeing from Lumbsou Tsokako, the fifth city state of the Seven Sisters. Eluding capture never was this difficult for him. As an Arch Rogue, his particular skill set aided his confounding of local authorities, but the men of Lumbsou could not be shaken from his trail. A drop of rain hit his hat, bringing his focus instantly back to the room. He froze, his dark brown eyes scanned for the danger that permeated his instincts.

            The gas lamps were dark, no one was here. Kale spun on the ball of his right foot. The barkeep absent. He only saw his fingerprints and swipes in the dust on the bar. It was a roadhouse, but it looked like it had not been used in a very long time. The glass in his hand had a thick layer of dust in it, and from the upper corner of the room a large clump of mushrooms glowed a soft pale blue, casting an eerie glow over the room. Half the tables were broken as well as most of the chairs. The patrons had also vanished. He had seen the lights, felt the warmth, smelled the sour spirits, tasted the Goblin Grog, and heard the conversations. Now, it was a silent tomb, sprinkled with the echoing sound of water drops. The road house once was separate from the cave behind it, but now he could clearly see that the rear wall had been demolished to allow access. Another rain drop hit his wide brimmed hat. He crouched and drew his Mars blade; the warmth of the blade reassured his quickly spinning mind.

            ‘Mordic warned me about tricksters,’ he thought. Kale’s best friend had read about lesser deities who could take various forms to play with mortals. ‘They can mess with the mind as well as any Neuromancer, and bespell one’s environment as well as any Mage’s illusion,’ Kale thought to himself, as he recalled his times with Mordic. ‘I can overcome most of what man can invent to thwart criminal activities, but this I cannot. Why did I leave my friends?’ he lamented, as another drop hit his hat. He quickly focused on survival.

            He closed his eyes, listened and smelled. He had learned from experience that many times he would rely on his eyes too much, and miss vital clues. He smelled freshly dug vegetables, just like those from his father’s royal garden, then heard a faint exhale. Kale quickly realized that someone or something was exerting themselves as quietly as they could. His eyes flashed open and saw a single drop of rain suspended in mid-air. He leaped to his right and shoulder rolled into his favorite fighting stance. A great sword made of water cleaved the bar in twain right where he once stood.

            ‘Great! A minor deity that can cast full power mage spells,’ Kale thought to himself. ‘If he is invisible to my eyes, maybe his heat is not.’ Kale concentrated on his eyes and focused on the ambient heat of the surrounding room. He focused on a single cold rock and strained his eyes. The point on the rock turned deep blue. A widening circle enlarged revealing the heat signatures of everything around him. The cool blue of cold rock showed all around him where the room ended, the old wood emitted a deep green. On the floor of the cave, he saw warmer blue patches that were surely footprints, no more than a few moments old. No other heat signature could be seen. ‘Time to leave in one piece,’ he thought, and crept backwards toward the door. He opened it with his free hand, and in one smooth, quick motion he jumped through the door, landing in a roll.

As he quickly lept to his feet he realized he was not outside in the rain, but stood in the Ceremonial Neuromancer Pyramid, specifically the upper room, the one where Mordic passed his final test. The same plain wooden chair rested on the simple dais, even the graffiti on the wall looked the same.  He jumped when he realized that Mordic stood beside him.

            “I don’t think you’ll get out of this one old friend,” he said. Kale looked at him like a calf stares at a new gate. He started to reply, but then saw through the illusion. Mordic always had the insight of positive reinforcement when they were in a tight spot. Then it struck him like a footpad’s sap, his silver haired, half-elph friend would never abandon him to a dire fate, he would stand right alongside, facing the same threat of death. To his horror, his friend slowly withdrew his family heirloom, the ivory hilted Hodge. Kale could not move half frozen in fear, half in disbelief. Even as Mordic swung his long glowing hodge at Kale’s neck, he fought in his mind what was real and what wasn’t. At the last moment, he instinctively ducked and forward rolled toward the chair.

            “You’ll have to do better than use my friends against me!” he yelled to the night air. The pyramid room and Mordic vanished and he again stood outside in the chill. He reverted his vision to the normal spectrum by releasing the strain he placed on his eyes. Only then did it strike his mind that Mordic just now, did not glow fiery red. He poured guilt on his head, chiding himself for such a slip. He had relied on Mordic’s moments of brilliance for far too long.

            “Okay,” came an answer on the soft breeze which unnerved Kale more than attacking Mordic. He ran down the wet and sloppy road as fast as his heart and legs would take him. No insects could be heard, nor any night animals stirred. Gasping for air, he stopped and looked around grabbing his sides. He had put six miles between his present location and the ruined roadhouse. This far from any settlement, the night enveloped him like a thick wool blanket. Numerous dark clouds blotted the stars from view. Only his half-elph eyes allowed him to see anything. On top of the third hill to his left stood a large stone fortress. Warm, inviting lights shone through the windows. Although not quite sure he had given the lesser deity the slip, he reluctantly and warily walked toward the fortress. The thick grey-brown granite stone blocks perfectly fit upon another making this tall, square structure formidable. He would have a very difficult time climbing the outside of it.

            Before he rapped on the door, he shifted his eyes to the thermal spectrum. The fortress still stood, as real as he, so he knocked. A small door within the heavy iron bound oaken door opened.

            “What in the blazes are you doing out this time of night? Don’t you know Chufi hunts tonight?” said a gruff, husky voice. All Kale could see was a pair of deep green eyes, that had seen much pain and suffering, staring back at him in fear. The man’s bushy brown eyebrows had streaks of grey and rode high on his forehead.

            “Good evening, I am Kale Barrington the Second, from Dren. This is an unofficial visit. My good sir, I think I have been assailed by this Chufi just now,” Kale said, in his best formal courtly greeting. The green eyes widened even more, then the little door slammed shut and the larger main door opened. The eyes belonged to a tall Andrigon of many winters. His dark green suit reminded Kale of the formal servants of Zan dignitary. In the back of his mind, a question rose about how this man could have such garb when Zan lay across the ocean on the continent of Ropermai. For that matter, did he recognize his royal heritage? Fear of not knowing where the threat of Chufi was, propelled these thoughts away from his mind.

            “Hurry, get inside,” the old seven foot tall Andrigon commanded. He slammed the door shut and then held up his large hands. Kale knew casting when he saw it and he tensed, resting his hand on his Mars blade hilt. The Andrigon spoke a few words of old Zannian, made a wall with his interlocked fingers, and the air hummed. A warm yellow glow grew from his palms and burst onto the door. Then Kale relaxed.

            “There, that should hold that old trickster until morning, then we will be safe. Excuse my manners, Prince Barrington. I am Cyrus T. Bankston. I am a magistrate of Lord Tysdale, vassal of High King Kudo Menewa. Welcome to Langston Fortress, the last outpost of the sovereign city-state of Valdos,” Cyrus, the old Andrigon, said with a sweeping bow. Kale bowed according to his station, which was not a deep as the magistrate’s, and stepped forward and shook his hand. Cyrus looked at the informal gesture in shock.

            “What is Chufi?” Kale asked bluntly. Cyrus, still aghast that a prince would shank his hand, stood there for a minute, staring at the short half elph. Coming to his senses and registering the question, the magistrate stood erect and answered.

            “Chufi is considered by everyone from Valdos as a myth, a legend. He is an ancient trickster who feasts on men’s souls,” Cyrus explained. Kale did not react, he’d heard such stories up and down the coast of Nathmaria. It reminded him of the Mocar that Mattatias and Kalamar fought in the ruins of Esanny. From his experience, Chufi was another of the being of immense power, warped by The Reckoning, who dealt out pain and torment. Some people still worshiped them as deities, but Kale knew better. There was only one, true God. However, as a guest, he would not enter into a theological debate just now, maybe after they survived the night.

            “Why till morning?” Kale asked. Cyrus still could not fathom his new guest. Most of the time, the story of Chufi, the trickster, caused panic. This half man showed no such feelings. Cyrus admired this man’s bravery. He stroked his grey goatee and folded his burly arms.

            “Chufi only hunts around here once a year. It seems as though he finds strength from the winter solstice. I have never seen nor heard of Chufi working during the day,” Cyrus explained.

            “Anyone ever fought him?” Kale asked. Cyrus looked shocked again. He soon realized that his mouth was agape and closed it.

            “No, my lord,” Cyrus said.     

            “Just Kale. I renounced my title long ago,” Kale said matter-of-factly. Cyrus could not change his surprised expression.

            “No, everyone who tries to defeat Chufi either becomes consumed or goes insane. Chufi does not attack physically, only with its mind,” Cyrus tried to dramatize his well-spoken words, but the attempt was lost on Kale.

            “Chufi is a caster, nothing more. Anyone who can sling spells can bleed. Anything that can bleed, can die. I will not be kimbawed tonight,” Kale stated firmly. Cyrus picked up on the Thieves’ Cant for tricked and beaten. Now he started to understand this man.

            “My spell will keep Chufi from getting through the door, but I fear he will find another way to get to you. Do you need any sustenance? I have yet to clean the kitchen from supper,” Cyrus said, and gestured through the open door across the stone entryway. Kale’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. He mimicked Cyrus’ gesture and followed the Andrigon into a formal dining room. The fortress served as a formal meeting place, as well as, a military stronghold. Kale noticed that everything could be rearranged quickly for defense. That’s when he noticed what was missing.

            “Where is everyone?” Kale asked nonchalantly. His left hand rested on his platinum short sword, the one magically attuned to slay evil.

            “It is only I who resides here. The threat of King Menewa’s wrath is enough to keep large forces from attacking me, and I can handle anything else. Besides, when there is nothing of value here, why steal or attack?” Cyrus said, as he smiled a knowing smile. Kale picked up on the hint.

            “I’m not here to lift spoilage, I just want to survive,” Kale said. Then it hit him. “Why hasn’t Chufi finished you?” Kale asked, as he stopped in his tracks. He spun on his heel and drew his platinum blade. Cyrus smiled a mischievous smile and Kale smelled freshly turned dirt. Cyrus’s ears lengthened and his face grew fine silver hair all over it.

            “Chufi does as he pleases,” the changing Cyrus said. Before he could pronounce the final ‘s,’ Kale threw a dagger from behind his back and struck the changing Andrigon in the left shoulder directly under the collar bone. Kale turned and sprinted up the circular stairs as Chufi/Cyrus howled in pain.

            Kale raced down the second floor main hall that ran the length of the fortress. A thick rug ran it length. Brass candelabras rested on tables near the wall, all alight and gently flickering in the air currents he made. Three chandeliers full of lit candles chased the shadows away. Six brass wall sconces held gas lamps, gently hissing and flickering a warm orange light. Four doors on each side all looked exactly the same. Each wall consisted of the same grey brown granite.

All the candles extinguished at once and he knew he had to hide quickly. ‘Always try right first,’ he thought to himself, as he opened the second door on his right. The open door revealed a modest bedchamber. He entered and closed the door quietly, then used his ‘don’t be heard’ skill and crossed the floor. He could feel the wooden floor give slightly under his weight. The twelve foot ceilings would be too high for him to climb quietly, and under the bed would be the first place searched. He spied an ornate gas lamp on the large bedside table, then leaped on to the table without even making the glass dangles on the lamp tink together. He drew his other sword and held them both behind him. He stood behind the lamp and used his ‘I am just a piece of furniture’ skill. He froze and breathed ever so slowly. He heard the first door on the hall open.

‘Good, Chufi doesn’t know Mordic’s Detect Entity spell,’ he thought. A few heartbeats later, the door to the room Kale was hiding in slowly opened. What looked like a weird cross between an Andrigon and a rabbit entered the room and scanned the darkness. Kale caught a whiff of freshly turned dirt as Chufi bent down to look under the bed. The beast had elongated fingernails which scratched the wooden floor as he peered from side to side. He still wore the Zannian resembling uniform, but had no other weapon.

            Kale gripped his swords for a double overhead strike that surely would be the end of Chufi. The minor deity stepped forward and as Chufi bent down, all the lights in the room ignited. The sudden light startled Kale. Chufi locked eyes with him, and Kale leapt with all his might only to hit air, then the floor. He jumped to his feet and twirled, looking for his foe. He was suddenly in his room at Barrington Castle.

            Kale rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand. No doubt, this was his room. In walked his younger sister, Molly, her bright eyes glistened at seeing him. She ran to him and hugged him. Kale stood there in stunned silence. Seven year old Molly always loved him. Instant sorrow of what his leaving would have done to her filled his heart, and now she ran to him just like she always did. She hadn’t changed, after all these years. Her braided blond pigtails looked just as they did the day he left, exactly like that day. He pushed Molly away.

            “You’ll have to do better than that,” Kale roared, and ran out of the room, leaving Molly standing alone, tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Kale had enough of these mind games. Now, he hunted Chufi.

            The dust and cobwebs clung to most every surface of the hallway. Only the gas lamps blazed. The tarnished brass held no candles. The musty mold assaulted his nose. Scanning the floor, he saw his foot prints, as well as Chufi’s. The Andrigon rabbit minor deity’s returned to the main stair and ascended. ‘Okay, I’m through playing his games, now he’ll play mine,’ Kale thought. He sheathed his swords and descended.

            Climbing out a window, Kale saw that the sliver of the waning moon headed toward the horizon at a rapid pace. He took out his Diminished Tinker’s pocket chronometer. Three hours till sunrise, that would give him plenty of time to trap and slay this foe. Kale sat cross-legged on the ground and concentration furrowed his brow. His vestigial wings unfurled from his back, and he stretched them as he stretched his arms every morning when he awoke. He stood and leaped into the night air, then flew away from the fortress, for he knew how much noise he made while gaining altitude. High over the fortress, he circled on the remaining warm, thermal updrafts, and once again shifted his vision to the thermal spectrum. He thought about eagles’ eyes and slowly he polymorphed his eyes. It never ceased to amaze him how well and how far he could see in great detail. He spied the red heat signature that could only be Chufi two floors below the flat, bastioned roof. He dove like an owl and changed his eyes back to Kale’s.

He landed and used his ‘no one will ever know I’m up here’ skill as he folded his wings close to his back, absorbing them back into his mass. Looking over the side, he visually measured seventy feet to the hill below. His hand nudged a loose battlement and he had an idea. He pulled out a thin spool of wire from his side pouch, deftly tied a snare. With the snare end of the wire looped around the trapdoor and the other around the loose battlement, he set to work on the trapdoor, removing the screws from their hinges. When everything was in place, he stumbled on purpose across the roof, then leaned against the loose battlement while whittling a piece of wood with his favorite skinning knife. Even in the slight night breeze, he smelled the freshly turned dirt. Chufi drew near.

            The trap door burst open and Kale’s father stepped up the ladder. One arm supported his weight on the edge of the hatchway. Without hesitation and without looking at the foe, Kale pushed the battlement off the roof with his shoulder. The snare snapped taunt and Chufi roared. Kale thought it sounded like a mix between a shadow lion and a dracon. The snare wire caught Chufi around the chest pinning one arm to his side. The weight of the fallen battlement snatched him out of the hatchway and drug him across the roof. Chufi’s bulk caught on the battlement wall and stopped the lesser deity from going over the side. The wire severed the uniform and started to dig deep into the muscles of Chufi. The more it squirmed, the more he bled. Kale looked him directly in the eye. The deep green of Chufi’s eyes blazed with pain and hatred. Kale stared him down.

            “I left my father and never looked back. Only the stupidest deity,” Kale almost spat on that word, “would try to use his image against me. Before I end you, know that it was a simple half man to bring your demise,” Kale said, never blinking, his voice never wavering. Chufi tried to lash out with his free arm and Kale dropped his carving to grab the appendage. With the deftness of a seasoned skinner, Kale sliced clean through all of the muscles on top of Chufi’s free arm, then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him over the side. Chufi screamed all the way down.

            Kale picked up his carving, which he had almost finished. It resembled Molly’s doll from all those years ago. If ever he had a chance to give it to her, he was sure that she would love it. He wiped the green blood on his knife onto his pants leg and sheathed it.

            ‘Now to see if Chufi lied about there being nothing of value here,’ Kale thought as he walked calmly to the hatch. As he stepped onto the floor and off of the ladder, the trap door slammed shut. The walls fell away revealing the iron bars of a cell. Chufi, the trickster, stepped into the light from the only window of this room. The morning sun lit it with a warm glow.

            “You are the most resilient foe I have had in quite a while,” Chufi stated. Kale raged against the bars, angry at having been tricked.

            “Kill me now, vile deity!” he screamed. Chufi smiled a wicked grin.

            “Oh no. That is not your fate. I so enjoyed this game that we will play again. I’ll see you tonight,” Chufi said as he stepped back from the glow of the ever growing shaft of sunlight. “I’ll see you tonight.” He spun and left through the only door in this room. Kale roared in fury.

1.      “Chufi” comes from the Muskogee Creek Native American tradition. He is the trickster of folklore that stole fire and brought it to the Creek people. He resembles a rabbit and is prone to inappropriate humor and excessive behavior.

I have a secret code for Nashville Wizcon!

Morning all,
During the weekend of September 8-10, the Wizard World Comic Convention explodes in Nashville at the Music City Center. Working with the management of the convention, I secured a very secret, very special discount code for your entry ticket. I share it with you here and now which in turn nullifies the secret nature of the offer. Oh well, you are worth it.

NASHVILLE! We will be at Wizard World September 8-10. Use the code THORNHILL for 20% off your ticket at

http://wizardworld.com/comiccon/nashville

Hope to see you there!

Nashville Bound

The first time to visit out of the deep South, excitement fills my heart as the plans roll toward this monumental event.

http://wizardworld.com/guests/shaun-k-thornhill

A writer writes

So many choices of entertainment bombard each person, thus making the selection of one book, or movie, or marathon binge watching increasingly special. The classics (literature, movies, television) fall to the flash of the shiny new. The merit and value remain constant, hence the classic status, yet for new readers or watchers, they are overlooked.

One lone wanderer, roaming the electronic jungle, bears the burden to tell of a fresh tale, a mixture of classical with fantastic, fresh ideas. Painting road advertisements, posting bills on telegraph poles, discussing plot and characters over coffee, weaving a story in public, all administered by him. At some point, the weight of this burden seems too much to bear. How can he ever proclaim loud enough, the words of a fresh tale? Finding the energy within his heart, he travels on down the road.

So hear ye, hear ye! The tale of the Brothers Four must be told. Don’t be a Necromancer and secure a copy today. 

Writing is easy...

Marketing is hard. I'm heading to Nashville, for the Wizard World Comic Convention in September. I love conventions. I have had great adventures and happy times during each and every one. I sell quite well, (thank you all for taking a chance on an independent author,) and enjoy meeting each and every one of you. I hope to see you there.

If you liked the story of Birth of Legends, tell me about it or take a moment to write a quick review. All of this helps so much. As a new author, I am open to constructive criticism, email me and tell me. Bravegroo@gmail.com

I'm back... (explanation)

To explain my absence, I’ll spin some philosophy, Life, the time we spend awake, exponentially increases in complexity as people in your life increases. I have heard or read somewhere that one can only maintain at maximum twelve friendships. What no one told me was that this includes your family. So, with three boys at home and my wife taking the first four slots, I only have time to maintain eight relationships. Tack on work, my writing, then the time is stretched thin. Factor in the home improvement projects, home maintenance, caring for the little people in my home, and loss of a beloved pet, some aspects of my life have to slide. Once they do, it is easier to not do it because you become much busier doing something else.

So, making up my mind to do what I must, determination to succeed, to get my stories in front of the most people possible, must be generated from within my core, my heart. So faithful audience, I have been writing furiously on the Arcane Investigator series, generating the individual stories as well as the overarching one. I have been developing the outline and fleshing out scenes to Death of a Legend, book two of the Nathmaria Chronicles, and I have been writing another project completely, something that has been on my heart for twenty five years.

Conventions must be experienced to be fuly appreciated.

Thinking about an upcoming convention, I have tried to explain and condense the full experience into a shot comment. It is almost as difficult as explaining Birth of Legends in the same amount of time. So, here goes; Louisiana Comic Convention has many vendors, selling all things comic, fantasy, science, fiction, movie or television related, guests from the before mentioned categories, and of course, authors. I will be at the Shreveport event next month. (More details soon) Here are some more glimpses of the Wizard World Comic Convention from New Orleans. (2017) Enjoy.

#conlife #birthoflegends #comicconvention #indieauthors #arcaneinvestigators #fantasy #mystery #steampunk

Fresh Look at the Main Characters: Mordic

Imagine, you are a son of a king of a prosperous country. You have a life that very, very few ever live. You have been pampered all your life. However, there is no possible way that you will never become king yourself. Specialized tutors and a personal mentor have groomed you for just such a role, yet you are the seventh child. So far down the order of succession, that you cannot even be the bad boy Prince seeking his own pleasure. You cannot be the lesser prince to lead in battle. Even your sisters will succeed the throne before you. You are the baby of seven. However, there is a twist.

The King adores you more than all the rest combined. You are the apple of his eye, the golden boy. Your older siblings resent you to the point of disparagement. They teased you during your young life and escalated as you grew, especially when you manifested higher intelligence and excellent muscle memory. Your father spared no expense, recruiting the most famous teacher of the most difficult sword to master, just to train you. Your prowess with it made your older brothers tone down their hazing, but not their scorn. The King, hired the very best personal teacher to guide your studies and coach your social morays. The intricate delicacies of Royal Court politics, modern warfare tactics, and international political strategy all have been drilled into your mind. Your knowledge of art, music, dance, science, navigation, naval tactics, engineering, construction, fabrication, history. geography, and swordplay surpass even your eldest brother's. You are a fountain of knowledge yet no experience.

Your sisters are the only one to show you love and support from the family. They know your mother is not theirs, but to them, you are still their beloved brother. Their mother died many years ago, and yours passed only recently. Your father morns so deeply that he has withdrew from your presence. he fills his mind and heart with the affairs of state and no longer spends daily hours with you discussing the various topics.

Now that you have reached true adulthood, you have a choice; do you live your life as just a member of the royal court, pampered in every way imaginable, or do you see what you can truly become.

For Mordic the choice never arose. He knew what he must do from a very early age. Your father would be devastated, as your sisters, but leaving is the only way you will grow and learn. Your father's protection here at the castle, will only suppress your desire and ability to expand and know what you are capable.

Taking only what you value most, your Hodge, (legendary sword; family heirloom) your favorite hexahorse, Cearr, and a small collection of books and a few journals in your saddle bags, you head off into the wild yonder. Your life will be your own choosing. You hold the reigns. Correct decisions or disastrous consequences, you will embrace them both with relish.

(Morning all, I will attempt to tell the story of my main characters in their motivation for their impetus just before Birth of Legends begins. I would like you to see them as I have imagined them. Mordic is first because I have the most time spent on him. There will be no specific order. I hope you find these interesting and compelling. Thank you.)

#epicfantasyadventure #birthoflegends #indieauthors #steampunk #fantasy #mystery #mordic #neuromancer

New Orleans Wizard World Comic Con

I will be adding many shots that the excellent friend Buck McCann, took at this year's Wizard World. These are of a few of the magnificent guests we saw and met.

The original Uhura!

Biff Tannen!

x files guy...

#birthoflegends #fantasy #epicadventure #mystery #steampunk #con life #startrek #TOS #backtothefuture #xfiles

Man, O Man, I just discovered this! BoL is on Barnes and Noble!

Oh wow, I have a listing for Birth of Legends (BoL) on Barns & Noble's website. It has an author introduction and a short description. Yes you can find the same listing, almost, at Amazon, but this brings joy to my heart. There are even more places you can get your copy. So have you?

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/birth-of-legends-shaun-k-thornhill/1120805525?ean=9781497336001

#birthoflegends #epicfantasyadventure #steampunk #indieauthors 

Wizard World! Wizard World! (chant continues)

This weekend, come see me and get your exclusive signed and numbered copy of Birth of Legends! We can chat, take selfies, and enjoy the time together. Then you can browse the rest of the convention. There will be plenty to see and do. It is a family friendly event. So, bring out everyone and enjoy. Hope to see you there!

#arcaneinvestigators #conlife #fantasy #steampunk #mystery #indieauthors #epicadventure