2015 Realms Faire Stockade Brigade Day 5

Huzzah and well met! I ask thee to join me in a round of huzzah's for our newest winner!

My lords and ladies, the competition has been fierce, however, as Sheriff of Realmsdom I declare Lady Cherie the winner of Lady Kai's book.

Hip, hip. Huzzah! Hip, hip. Huzzah! Hip, hip. Huzzah!

Lady Cherie, to retrieve your prizes, please send me a missive at mewaibel(@)gmail(dot)com with your format preference.

Tis the final day of our Faire, and the final chance for our wordsmithers to win their prize. Craft a comment with your best Olde English afore 8 of the clock in the Eastern time on the following scale:

5-Ye speak as one from the days of Queen Bess.

4-Ye could pass muster as a Ren Faire cast member

3-Ye could pass as a Ren Faire attendee

2-Ye wouldn't be foolin' yer mother

1-Ye stand out like the sun in a cloudless sky

An e-book will be given every day to the witness who scores the most points. Fear not, your daily score will be accumulated and the person with the highest score shall receive a special prize at the end of the week. So, brush off your Olde English and prepare to testify.

The wordsmither of the best Olde English shall receive an e-book of The Bone Treaty, by T. C. McKee.

Today's winner, and the grand prize winner will be announced on Monday's blog, so be sure to stop back and give a resounding Hip, hip. Huzzah!

*Sheriff Mary unrolls the scroll*  Here ye good people of Realmsdom. Before you stands Lady T.C. McKee of the shire of Virginia, presently and honored “guest” of ye olde Realmsdom Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her Majesty, Lady Mary Pax, and overseen by me, Lady Mary, the honorable Sheriff of Realms.

Lord Conal Reed charges Lady T.C. with the crime of slander. He alleges that Lady T.C., through her own words, has painted him as a stalker, and provides the following to support his claim.

A power as old as King Solomon awakens when a seventeen-year-old girl marks the brooding hot abductor ordered to seize her.

Addie Heaton’s not your average high school student. Orphaned at two, she’s spent most of her life reading the emotions of others. It’s a little trick she likes to call color-vision. But lately, a stranger has been trailing her, putting off shades of black and red—colors Addie hasn’t seen since the night her parents were killed—colors Addie never wanted to see again.

But when Addie comes face to face with Conal Reed, owner of the terrifying shades, she learns her stranger’s a little different too. He’s brooding hot, mysterious, and all too elusive. Conal loves to materialize, and then vanish at all the wrong times. Nice. Not. After years of keeping her ability a secret, Addie’s found another person with gifts, someone who may know what she really is.

But Conal’s not talking. He’s having more fun showing up uninvited, teasing her senses, and disappearing at all the wrong times. Instead of finding answers, Addie finds herself reconsidering ever being alone and naked again.

What say you to this charge, Lady T.C.?

**Silence** 'Twould seem the cat has caught Lady T.C.'s tongue. Mayhap a few more words from Lord Conal will help to convince ye lords and ladies of Lady T.C.'s guilt.

No one else can see him. To the average human, Battery Park seems abandoned, but I know he’s there, lurking just beyond the tree line, cloaked in a swirling September haze, and oozing a dark cloud of malevolence.

I should have spotted his energy sooner, but all morning the street has been abuzz with distractions―traffic backing up near Atlantic Avenue, a mother jaywalking while holding the tiny fisted hand of a disgruntled toddler, an ominous sky opening up and pebbling my windshield with a sheet of transparent polka dots.

What say you, good ladies and lords of Realmsdom? Is this not a case of slander against Lord Conal?

To learn more about T.C. McKee and her books, 

visit her Amazon author page at:

http://www.amazon.com/T.C.-Mckee/e/B00NE2AW9A

Be sure to visit the other games for 

lots of fun and prize giveaways!!!

~Riddle Me This ~ Dueling Bards ~ Phasers ~ Unicorn Hunt ~ 

~Who Roams Here? ~ Beware the Vortex ~ VelociRaffle ~

~  The Hero’s Dilemma ~ Hall of Doors ~ The Joust ~ 

~Drench-a-Wench/Soak-a-Bloke~

2015 Realms Faire Stockade Brigade Day 4

Huzzah and well met! I ask thee to join me in a round of huzzah's for our newest winner!

The Lord Nick, with his most fine wordsmithing is hereby declared the winner of Lady S's book.

Hip, hip. Huzzah! Hip, hip. Huzzah! Hip, hip. Huzzah!

Lord Nick, to retrieve your prizes, please send me a missive at mewaibel(@)gmail(dot)com with your format preference.

For the rest of you, do not fret or envy your fellow wordsmithers. More prizes are yet to be had. As a reminder, points will be awarded for wordsmithing a comment in your best Olde English afore 8 of the clock in the Eastern time on the following scale:

5-Ye speak as one from the days of Queen Bess.

4-Ye could pass muster as a Ren Faire cast member

3-Ye could pass as a Ren Faire attendee

2-Ye wouldn't be foolin' yer mother

1-Ye stand out like the sun in a cloudless sky

An e-book will be given every day to the witness who scores the most points. Fear not, your daily score will be accumulated and the person with the highest score shall receive a special prize at the end of the week. So, brush off your Olde English and prepare to testify.

The wordsmither of the best Queen's English shall receive an e-book of King of Bad by Kai Strand.

*Sheriff Mary unrolls the scroll* Here ye good people of Realmsdom. Before you stands Lady Kai Strand of the Central Oregon region. *eyes Lady Kai suspiciously* Forsooth, but I do believe Lady Kai and our very own Lady Mary Pax have been seen in yonder tavern sharing a flagon of grog and swapping gossips about the yarns created in Realmsdom. But I digress. Lady Kai is here at the Stockade Brigade not as Lady Mary’s guest, but as her lawful prisoner. 

The Lady Pyro has levied charges against Lady Kai of imbuing an innocent boy with opposing elements. Do not take my word for it, my good people of the realm, but prithee read the words from her own hand.

“I guess I’m not comfortable being something. I’ve never aspired to do much of anything and it seems like a lot of pressure to suddenly learn I’m supposedly a super villain and that I have to learn how to do it right.”

“You don’t have to do anything, kid. You are what you are. We are just here for you if you want to learn how to do more.” Pyro leaned back in her chair and crossed her leg. “Let me start closer to the beginning. Once upon a time…”

Jeff curled his lip and grunted. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Yes, I am. This is no fairytale.”

“How many of us are there? Is this the only school or are they everywhere? What happens if I decide not to get training?”

“Whoa, boy! Rein in the questions. I’ll get to them.” Pyro’s foot bobbed as she studied Jeff. “I don’t usually recruit. I work in administration, a fundraiser. They asked me to take you on because they suspected you had fire. So let’s start there.”

Pyro explained Mr. Sims initial encounter with Jeff and how he’d reported to Tubs. “That’s when Tubs got me involved. See, Sims felt your S.V. energy when you blew to fan the flames. Since you were playing with fire, Tubs suspected you had it and he knows that fire is a dangerous new ability and best taught by someone with experience. You know, when I first saw you, kid, I thought they were making way more of it than was needed. You were hanging out with your friends. Giving your sister a hard time. Taking out the trash like a good son, but there was nothing about you that struck me as special. Or even super for that matter. But then you did something that changed my mind completely.”

Jeff sat up straight in his chair then slouched back down again. He felt very conflicted hearing that Pyro had been shadowing him for so long and he hadn’t even known it. “What? What did I do?”

“You blew out a match.”

Jeff frowned. “How could blowing fire out prove I have fire in me?”

“It didn’t. You have fire in your hands, just like I do.” Pyro raised her right hand, palm up. Her fingertips were already swollen and throbbing. A spark emitted from each finger and flowed together in the center of her palm. A marble sized ball of fire ebbed and crackled in the middle of her hand. She studied it. “When you learn control, you’ll be able to start fires whenever you want. But what is unique about you, is you will also be able to douse them.”

Pyro held the fireball in front of Jeff. “Blow.”

Jeff shrugged and blew on the fire as if extinguishing birthday candles. A thin frost doused the flame and coated Pyro’s hand. Jeff blinked, thinking he was seeing things. He scraped a finger through the frost on her palm and touched it to his tongue. Cold and wet.

Pyro wiped her hand on her pants leg. “Fire and ice. I can’t even begin to imagine how you do that. But, Jeff, I can tell you no one has ever had opposing elements. Ever.”

Have you any defense for these charges, Lady Kai?

First I defend that though I be the author of the young Jeff’s tale, I am not his creator. I was tasked with sharing his exciting story with fine readers everywhere. Jeff, perched on the step before manhood, discovers he is blessed by the ability to create fire with his hands and form ice of his breath, but he is not wicked. Nor is he possessed of demons as it may appear. His abilities, like those of super heroes and super villains everywhere, were born to him. They are naturally occurring. A gift of the maker, which I repeat twas not I! I am but a lowly scribe. And the young master just needs a stern—perhaps fireproof—guide to set him on the right path.

To learn more about Kai Strand and her books, 

visit her author page at: http://www.kaistrand.com/

Be sure to visit the other games for 

lots of fun and prize giveaways!!!

~Riddle Me This ~ Dueling Bards ~ Phasers ~ Unicorn Hunt ~ 

~Who Roams Here? ~ Beware the Vortex ~ VelociRaffle ~

~  The Hero’s Dilemma ~ Hall of Doors ~ The Joust ~ 

~Drench-a-Wench/Soak-a-Bloke~

2015 Realms Faire Stockade Brigade Day 3

Huzzah and well met! I ask thee to join me in a round of huzzah's for our first two winners!

The Lady Michelle, with her fine wordsmithing Monday is hereby declared the winner of Lady Meradeth's book.

And furthermore, I declare the Lady Yolanda to have performed the most excellent smithing of words yesterday and is the winner of Lord Stuart's book.

Hip, hip. Huzzah! Hip, hip. Huzzah! Hip, hip. Huzzah!

Ladies, to retrieve your prizes, please send me a missive at mewaibel(@)gmail(dot)com with your format preference.

For the rest of you, do not fret or envy your fellow wordsmithers. There are plenty more prizes to be had. As a reminder, points will be awarded for wordsmithing a comment in your best Olde English afore 8 of the clock in the Eastern time on the following scale:

5-Ye speak as one from the days of Queen Bess.

4-Ye could pass muster as a Ren Faire cast member

3-Ye could pass as a Ren Faire attendee

2-Ye wouldn't be foolin' yer mother

1-Ye stand out like the sun in a cloudless sky

An e-book will be given every day to the witness who scores the most points. Fear not, your daily score will be accumulated and the person with the highest score shall receive a special prize at the end of the week. So, brush off your Olde English and prepare to testify.

Ye best wordsmither of the day shall receive three e-books from the RAZIA series by author S. Usher Evans.

*Sheriff Mary unrolls the scroll*  Here ye good people of Realmsdom. Before you stands Lady S. Usher Evans of the shire Pensacola, presently a ‘guest’ of note in ye olde Realmsdom Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness, Lady Mary Pax, and overseen by me, Lady Mary, the honorable Sheriff of Realms.

Lord Heelin has levied charges of false impersonation against Lady S, alleging the good lady has allowed one of her character to cavort about under an assumed identity, as seen scribed in her own words in this accounting:

Razia's eyes snapped open and she grasped at the wall to steady herself. She had fallen asleep for a split second, but was now wide awake. Poker, she reasoned, must be Loeb's chosen vice because he'd been here playing this game for over an hour. She wondered how many times he’d have to go to Temple to ask the Great Creator for forgiveness for this break in his pure piety.

She snorted at her own joke then burped a little beer.

Yawning, she rubbed her face roughly, hoping the increased blood flow would wake her up. She wished she hadn't had that second beer (or however many she had) at Eamon's, she wished she had some coffee, and she wished Loeb would just get a move on already. She had other pirates to capture, and he was being awfully selfish of her time.

She jutted her lip out and stared at the window, and her eyes began drooping again.

Another split second nap and she was wide awake again.

Her mini-computer began buzzing at her hip and she jumped ten feet. Scowling, she answered it without thinking.

"What." She blinked at the face looking back at her and for a brief moment saw Vel. But another shake of the head and she realized it was Heelin scowling back at her. “Oh, it's you."

"Yes, it's me." Heelin looked nothing short of livid. “The brother with whom you are supposed to be working with."

She grimaced. “Oh God in Leveman's, I don't have time for this."

“Well you'd better make time, because this stupid planet was approved for membership, so Dorst wants me to accompany you on your next excavation."

Excavation, what was that again? She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of the word. Slowly, her brain readjusted from a month of bounty hunting back to her life as Lyssa Peate.

Wait…Heelin wanted to go on an excavation with her?

“I don't think so," Razia laughed, her eyes drifting over to the bar again and spotting Loeb.

“I think that you have to since Dorst ordered you to."

“I think that Dorst can get sucked," Razia chuckled.

"What is with you lately? You look different.”

"I…what?" she said, looking down at the mini-computer.

"And where are you anyway? Are you in some kind of dark alley? Where are your glasses?”

Razia realized with a jolt of fear that she was, in fact, Razia and not Lyssa. Her hair down, no lab coat, no glasses.

“Uh…gotta go!"

She ended the call quickly and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't expect Heelin to recognize Razia from just a simple phone call. Unlike Lizbeth, who was sharp as a tack and made the connection almost immediately, the Peates seemed more eager to ignore that Lyssa ever existed.

Like Jukin.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, hating herself and her drunkenness for bringing up that memory. He looked at her right in the face and didn’t recognize her—once in his office as Lyssa, then again in the Presidential Palace prison as Razia.

But then again, she remembered with an even more hollow thud, her own mother didn’t recognize her either.

She belched loudly in the alleyway as if to protest her stupid mother and her stupid decorum, but now the air in front of her face smelled like beer. In some part of her mind, she perhaps wondered if it was a good idea to be out here in her current state, but then again, she was simply stalking him. He wasn’t going to surprise her and walk out…

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head as Jarvis Loeb exited the bar all by himself.

She braced herself against the wall, waiting to see if his body men were going to join them. He got almost a block before she realized that he was alone. Whether this be some great twist of fate, or maybe some gift from the Great Creator, she didn't know. But this was an opportunity.

She nearly tripped over her own two feet as she barreled after him, the beer sloshing in her stomach uncomfortably.

"OI!" she called out, standing in the middle of the deserted street.

Loeb turned to watch her with an amused look on his face. "Hello there, dear. Are you here to capture me finally?”

"Sure am!" she announced, perhaps louder than she should have.

She walked up to Loeb, who seemed awfully sober to her, and she reared back her fist to strike him. But she was moving so slow—slower than ever—and Loeb easily ducked it. She lurched forward, her center of gravity completely off, watching the pavement fly up towards her face. Loeb's hand clamped down on her wrist and she felt cold steel encircle it.

Have ye any evidence to offer in your defense, Lady S?

For my evidence, I provide this excerpt from the first book, Double Life, at such time when my good character Lyssa was first discovered to be falsely identifying herself:

“Don’t move a muscle,” the one on the right said, holding his gun steady.

"So, about that," Razia laughed nervously. "You know, I am just so low in the bounty rankings…"

"Says here that you’re an associate of Tauron Ball," the lieutenant said. “That’s interesting because I thought we killed all his associates.”

Razia’s eyes flashed, but she wasn’t distracted from trying to figure out how in Leveman’s Vortex she was going to get out of this one.

The hall was a long and narrow, and they’d have to really be bad marksmen to miss her. Judging on how little they actually did, she was sure they spent a lot of time at the firing range.

"Now, put your hands on your head and drop your weapons!" the second officer said, with much less conviction than the lieutenant.

"Seriously," Razia said, backing up slightly. “I can get you someone better—Sage Teon!"

"No." The lieutenant smiled. "I think you’ll do just fine. It’s been a while since we’ve hanged a pirate.”

Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?! I’m like…six hundred.”

“Captain Peate says that if we’re to come across any pirate, no matter how small, we’re to bring him in and he’s to die for his crimes,” the young officer on the left said, his eyes narrowing at her.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That sounded like something Jukin would say.

"Well, then, why don’t you go find yourself a ‘him’ to bring in, and leave me be..." She smiled. “I mean, nobody actually even likes—"

“Put your hands on your head," the lieutenant said, his eyes narrowing.

Just then, the door opened and a lethargic-looking Vel came stumbling out of a room. His boils had shrunken to red marks all over, but his eyes were hooded with the after-effects of the medicine.

"Who is this?" One of the U-POL officers turned their gun towards Vel.

"That's nobody," Razia stammered. “I mean, I don't even know who he is."

"I'm Vel!" he slurred. “Vel Peate!"

"Peate?" They said, looking at each other. “Are you Jukin's brother?"

"Oh Jukin!" Vel said, eyes spinning. “Yes, Jukin Peate is my...why are you pointing a gun at my s—"

Razia, with nothing else to do, grabbed Vel before he goaded the stupid U-POL officer into shooting him—or worse.

"UNHAND HIM!" They barked, turning their guns back to her.

"Say what now?" she blinked, looking at them.

“I SAID, UNHAND HIM!"

She looked down at Vel, who was starting to sober up, and the U-POL Officers, who obviously had no idea what was really going on.

To them, a dangerous pirate had just taken ahold of the brother of Jukin Peate.

She smiled at her good fortune.

"Don't move another muscle, or the kid gets it," she growled, suddenly wrapping her arm around his neck.

Taking a poor innocent hostage and using a false name. Forsooth, I believe Lady S has condemned herself with her defense rather than proved her innocence. What say ye, my good lords and ladies of the realm?

To learn more about S.Usher Evans and her books, 

visit her author page at:

http://www.susherevans.com/

Be sure to visit the other games for lots of fun and prize giveaways!!!

~Riddle Me This ~ Dueling Bards ~ Phasers ~ Unicorn Hunt ~ 

~Who Roams Here? ~ Beware the Vortex ~ VelociRaffle ~

~  The Hero’s Dilemma ~ Hall of Doors ~ The Joust ~ 

~Drench-a-Wench/Soak-a-Bloke~

2015 Realms Faire Stockade Brigade Day 2

Here ye! Here ye! House Waibel is hosting the Stockade Brigade. Warrants of arrest have been issued for select authors accusing them of witchery and wizardry. The pillory has been erected and the trial dates set.

Good people of Realmsdom, I call upon you to bear witness to these trials and offer your testimony for or against the author's crimes.

Points will be awarded for wordsmithing a comment in your best Olde English afore 8 of the clock in the Eastern time on the following scale:

5-Ye speak as one from the days of Queen Bess.

4-Ye could pass muster as a Ren Faire cast member

3-Ye could pass as a Ren Faire attendee

2-Ye wouldn't be foolin' yer mother

1-Ye stand out like the sun in a cloudless sky

An e-book will be given every day to the witness who scores the most points. Fear not, your daily score will be accumulated and the person with the highest score shall receive a special prize at the end of the week. So, brush off your Olde English and prepare to testify.

The wordsmither of this day shall receive an e-book of Stuart West's Ghosts of Gannaway.

*Sheriff Mary unrolls the scroll*  Here ye good people of Realmsdom. Before you stands Lord Stuart West of the shire Kansas, presently a welcome ‘guest’ of ye olde Realmsdom Stockade Brigade, courtesy of her highness, Lady Mary Pax, and overseen by me, Lady Mary, the honorable Sheriff of Realms.

Lord Dennis has levied charges against Sir Stuart, claiming the good knight has been conspiring with ghosts, as seen scribed in his own words:

Scritchhhhhh.

Good God, what was that?

His keys jangled in his hand before he reached the van. He banged into its side and fumbled through the key chain.

Where’s the key, give me the right key…

The keys slipped out of his sweaty hand and dropped to the ground.

Click slitch, click slitch.

Not gonna look behind me, not gonna look behind me…

He snatched the keys up, the correct key miraculously flipped upward. He hopped in, fired up the ignition. Locking all doors, he checked and double-checked them.

He shifted into reverse. Something scratched at the back of the van, the creaking sound tree limbs make when they ask for entry on chilly fall nights.

Dennis didn’t care. Nothing mattered but getting the hell out of there. If he took out a chat rat, the intruder had it coming. He jammed the gas pedal down. The van hurtled back. When he braked, he lurched to a stop. But the expectant thump didn’t follow. Spinning the van around, he wrenched out onto the highway.

For the first ten minutes, he couldn’t bring himself to look into the rearview mirror. When he felt enough distance had passed, he ventured a glance. But he saw nothing.

Lightning zapped the sky again. Next to him, blue-white magnetic charges snapped and sparked at the top of several chat piles.

And he swore—God damn swore—he saw a figure standing on the tallest chat pile, the one he’d climbed. Wearing a helmet with a lit torch burning brightly.

He didn’t look again.

Have ye any evidence to offer in your defense, Sir Stuart?

Verily, verily, Lady Mary, I cry fowl to the trumped-up charges presented against me. For I, a mere pauper, am merely a scribe, relaying true tales mine ears feast upon at the local tavern. How can such charges ring true within Realmsdom when I present the unvarnished truth? Forsooth, I counter with bold lies. Lies!

I prithee thou take pity upon my wretched self. As further proof of mine innocence, I bequeath you with another tale of truth, plucked from my tome, Ghosts of Gannaway:

As Dennis approached the waiting automobile, he identified it as a pick-up truck. Old. Very old. Dark blue and dented, rust soldering it together, but still in workable condition. Smoke drifted out of the exhaust, floating up into the sky. The full moon presented a spotlight behind the group of men standing in the truck-bed.

“Hey…could I…can I…” His mouth dried up as he drew closer.

Miners. All dressed in overalls and wearing hard hats. The one in front cradled a pickaxe in his arms like a baby. A large man stood next to him, his chest twice as wide as any of the others. They remained still as art and hushed as sickness.

Dennis dropped back. Gannaway’s secret mining crew, they had to be. And that meant serious danger.

A flashlight beam snapped on, blinding Dennis. He shielded his eyes and called out. “Sorry to bother you…my van’s broken down and—”

The miner turned the beam around, shining it back into his own face. Dennis screamed. Two black holes replaced the miner’s eyes. A toothless grin formed a death’s head smile. The things jumped out of the truck bed, light on their feet, and landed silently on the tarmac. One dragged his pickaxe along the highway, sparks flying underneath the scraping metal.

Dennis bolted back to the opposite shoulder. He tore past the dead crew, screaming between breaths, hoping—praying—someone would hear him. Someone living. The miners watched him, immobile except for their hideous smiles.

Please, God in heaven, what is going on? What’s happening to me? It’s not real, it can’t be real, don’t let it be real…

He braved a look back. The truck lumbered in the middle of the highway. The engine backfired again while the ghostly men hopped back into the truck-bed. All but one. That one kept singing a song, low and resonant. A gospel song. The others swayed back and forth to the unholy rhythm, a choir from the church of hell.

And so let it be told! Huzzah!

What say ye, good people of Realmsdom? Is Sir Stuart merely a scribe, and therefore innocent of the charges?

To learn more about Stuart R. West and his books, 

visit his author page at: http://stuartrwest.blogspot.com/

Be sure to visit the other games for 

lots of fun and prize giveaways!!!

~Riddle Me This ~ Dueling Bards ~ Phasers ~ Unicorn Hunt ~ 

~Who Roams Here? ~ Beware the Vortex ~ VelociRaffle ~

~  The Hero’s Dilemma ~ Hall of Doors ~ The Joust ~ 

~Drench-a-Wench/Soak-a-Bloke~