It's what I've been "working" on. Thank God I haven't crossed over communication the lines of Myspace to Blogger yet. I'm such a sick and twisted fuck and nobody knows just HOW BAD.
Woe is me.
A Fantasy/Horror/Porn-schmut Novel By Rachel Turner.....
This is going to be an epic of sorts.
Yes. There is going to be minotaurs.
Yes. There is going to be faeries.
Yes. There is going to be detailed, hardcore, pornographick like sex.
On a lighter note:
Yes. It will be full of the trials and tribulations of the eternal emotional struggle that all humankind goes though.
Yes. It will invoke in one a feeling of internal spiritual struggle.
And Yes. It will have zombies. Maybe not the kind you'd expect. But yes. They'll be there.
And bloodshed. Lots of fucking bloodshed.
So far I have a minotaur in faithful, lustful and loyal love with this poor faery maiden. There's far more than meets the eye with this chick though. Just when you think you've got her figured to a "T", she lops your fukkin head off with a samurai sword and doesn't have one last regret. But she's the type of gal you'd want to hire to do your laundry and dust your million and one knick knacks that you've bought from the local Once Pence Makes Cents. And whenever she does kill aimlessly, you only love her all the more for it. Yes, my friends. She's just THAT KIND OF VIGILANTE.
~Mushroom Tattoo artist. (this occupation is pending)Not by any means a great way to earn pence, but it's what's in her heart to do. Damn those artists and their fanciful needs.
~Mind reader: 'Nuff said.
~Psychological warfarion: Oh yeah. She's a mind fuck. She can Make you cry reading Charlotte's Web out loud to you, for Christ's sake.
~The ability to change all bad things for the good. Not magicks or summoning of any sort. Just plain ol' human ability.
~Hyper Flight: Of fucking course.
~Twilight Phantom Changer: She sprouts wings at midnight. Not a pretty sight, by any means. Ever watch American Werewolf in London? Sorta like that transitioning. But the end result is always nice. (As is with American Werewolf as well. Woot.)
~Other people's weaknesses. She somehow gathers them all upon herself and uses them to turn them around for the better.
~Early bloomer in the way of sexual awareness. (she's got a few skeletons in her closet as well.Not demons, like Vlad though.)
~Curse words. Uses them like a sailor. Sends Vlad to the SevenSeas. (But you KNOW he secretly LOVES it.)
~Other people's weaknesses. Yep.It's a 3 fold utopian nightmare here.
~The human condition.
And this minotaur fellow. He's got demons. Fuck skeletons. Those break easily and faulter at moment's whim. Yeah. Demons in the abyssmal closet of Vladmir's soul. They stretch far and wide. And nobody knows. 'Cept him. Good ol' Vlad. He holds his shit together with astute observation. He looks for people that are outwardly a mess, to cover up his own god-damned mess that festers within. Only to find Tristan in his wake. Her four cornered wings, lavendar brazened mane, and pale lavished skin makes not only his blood boil, but his loins as well. She manages to bring out the fuck up in him, which Vlad hates with a fucking passion. But Tristan knows what no one else does. She's got that pyschological gift that mom passed down to her, and an uncanny sense for mind reading, without the traditional sense of Magicks that WeenRealm has managed to conjure up for itself over the centuries. So when she's able to delve into the seemingly stoic nature of this quasi-modo beast, it not only sends tingles up her spine, but her cunt as well. For we women folk ALL love a scarred man, do we not?
~Level 100 skill-crafted warrior
~Wields: Axe. Big one. Very fucking big one
~Dabbles in alchemy. Doesn't like to remember the experiments father used to perform in the past, using mother as a control, so he minimalizes the triggers of his past by dismissing this ability altogether.
~Can fuck like NOBODY'S business. Not something he knows about himself. You'd have to ask Tristan about this. She's still in orgasmic shock and has to change her panties daily over the mere thought of Vlad's cock between her thighs. She can't shake the thought so much that she sometimes finds herself entranced at the secretive thought of Vlad's huge schlong inside of her, even in the midst of saying Grace on her mum's cleanly shaven oakswooden table. But that is, however, where the deeds were done in the first place.*OIK!!*
~Curse words. The fucker hates em. With a passion. Saying anything worthy of satan's tongue is blasphemous in the presence of this 2 horned gentleman. Be prepared to get both formally and verbally bitchslapped by this man if you should ever chose to use your words so carelessly around this muscular entity of a creature.
~Triggers: These also send Vlad to the sevenseas. He usually has to excuse himself to the bathroom when they become too inherent.
~Watching Tristan transform. It's a sick, sadistic pleasure of Vlad's and he only self-loathes all the more as a result.
"Johnny B. Goode"
Yeah. He's good alright. Good at casting summon spells and necromancing. He loves to command the dead. And the dead do love him. They are a faithful and loyal bunch. Wouldn't necromance for anyone else. Ever. He's just that kind of feller. Lots of people have formed misconceptions over him, what with summoning of the dead and all. But there's a reason for it. A reason so beyond you, that you'd drop on all fours and beg forgiveness if you realized the truth behind his so-called "folly". He's one of the saviours of the bunch. Not a conventional one by any means. But are any of us really? Not so great with the ladies. Or guys. He wants love, but not at the cost of relinquishing his majestic powers. Love is on the backburner for this guy. Hellaciously tall, pale and gaunt. Friendly too. Raven black hair. Forest green eyes. Freckles. Loves capes.
Strengths: Duh. Didn't I just lay it all out for ya?
~Men. Shhh. It's a secret to everyone.
~Poor fashion sense. He hates that shit. Nothing worse than a polka dot cape and striped knickers.
~Axe wielders. Any weapon wielders as a matter o' fact.
"Malovent Evil "
Fuck you. He ain't got a name yet. He's the bad guy though. He's the villain. He's the one that MAKES things go bump in the night. And then he secretly smashes them together and conjures their hatred and angst into a pleasure all his own which he stores up within his mental/spiritual realm o' psyche. If you thought Vlad had demons, wait till you meet this guy. Satan himself won't go in this guy's closet. He appears very much to be a non-threatening entity. Almost to the point of creepiness. Very clean and in outward control. Deep within is a raging beast that has no beginning and no end. This guy was just BORN this way, whether his mom and dad warped and honed his sick twisted fate or not. He is, after all, the ANTI-SEVEN. It was in the cards all along for his destruction to bring chaos to the lands. But yeah. This guy is really fucked up. He can read minds. He can speak to you telepathically. He can make you do things you said you would never do, and LIKE IT. And then leave you and your corpse in a hopeless and rotting hell to pay for it. He feasts upon innocence. He envies it. He wants it so badly for his own that he forsakes all he has known to achieve this. To him, innocence is Godhood. But it is the one thing he can never attain with all the hatred for self and hymankind he has. Buff, but not overtly buff. Pale. (Shut it! I've got a thing for pale skin) Clean,but with a filthy soul. Has a secret tattoo of a massive blacktree weeping blood on his chest, and has blocked the memory of how it ever got there in the first place. All a part of divine intervention is what he's chalked it up to. Maybe he's right. Oh, and The Tree?? It weeps real blood, just so you know.
~Hymankind.Innocence. All things that come from the essence light.