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IV. Elizabeth: WoW Shadow Priest Journal (on Ascension server)

The last hireling.

Elizabeth had to truck down to the end of Stormwind outside the main gates. Yes, night had graced her, however, she was without her shadow form–a rarity. She thought that perhaps if she showed the undead her humanity, a ping of tension would appear between this last hireling and herself. A tension that would become like tar and entrap the undead to her service because perhaps the undead would see herself in Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Vladimira,” Elizabeth asked an approaching shadow, a shadow with glowing eyes. Elizabeth could hear the sighing of leathery flesh rubbing against itself.

“I am that indeed. Word has come. Word has come that you seek a caster of fire?”

“The same,” Elizabeth said.

“I know many of your party, so I will agree to go along and sling fire so long as I receive ample treasure for my deeds.”

“Have you ever been into the library?” Elizabeth asked.

“I have toured the entire grounds with another party. I was able to avoid burning the books, but I spread the misery of flame throughout that compound. However, as word has it, it’s already been repopulated with cult soldiers.” Vladimira laughed. It sounded like crisp autumn leaves sighing down a stone walkway.

“You are hired,” Elizabeth smiled, turning to shadow before Vladimira.

“I like this dark priest form much more,” Elizabeth confessed.

“We are the same. By the way, we will invade the compound in three days. We will all meet here under the moonlight of the full moon. I cannot wait to see you blister the cult.”

“I shall bring my brightest flames,” Elizabeth laughed, turning to the night, vanishing.

III. Elizabeth: WoW Shadow Priest Journal (on Ascension server)

Elizabeth yet lurked in the shadows of the Elysium Tavern in Stormwind. Hell, she roomed there too. The tea there was good, the meals bland, and the service barely sustainable for a tavern. But since the proprietor knew of her shadowy preoccupation, and since he feared Elizabeth, he was prompt on her account.

Today, she was to meet one Helrae, an ice mage of some repute. Whispers told of Helrae’s ability to turn a dungeon into a proverbial blizzard with a wave of her hand. If this mage was that good, well hell, why not employ her? Afterall, the books in the Crimson Library were still waiting to be plucked. She would, soon, go there. But first, to complete the team.

In from the light walked a tall, thin woman. Her skin was almost light blue in the light, which of course was the sign of the ice mage: Ice of a sort ran in their veins.

“The mistress,” said Toby the proprietor, “awaits.” He jabbed a fat finger back towards Elizabeth.

“Red wine,” Helrae said, flipping Toby a coin, “quickly.”

“Very good, milady,” Toby bowed his head and saw to the command.

“So, I see your reputation precedes you,” Helrae said. Truth was she could barely see “the mistress” for all the shadows in the corner of the tavern. She checked her fears and had a seat. Toby come around with the wine, which Helrae chilled with a touch of her fingers.

“Fancy a book on magery or two? Books out of circulation, kept purposely away from those who truck in power–like us?” Elizabeth bent forward out of the shadows and showed off her beautiful deathly pallor.

Hellrae held her gaze and become like ice. Cool. Ruthless. Hard. “I would like it very much, Lady Shadow. How much of my soul are you going to suck out of me at the end?”

“Nary a drop,” Elizabeth smiled, arching a brow.

“Then I say yes. When do we leave?” Helrae asked, sipping her wine.

“One more cast member is all we need,” Elizabeth said.

“I know of one. Shall I summon her?” Helrae asked.

“The quicker, the better.”

II. Elizabeth: WoW Shadow Priest Journal (on Ascension server)

Baelena, human gunslinger, walked through the dimly lit tavern seeking the shadow priestess Elizabeth. A bit like finding the proverbial needle in haystack. Her hunter’s sense made her turn. She saw the stern eyes of Elizabeth already studying her. What an absolute piece of work she was. Chin held high, her eyes radiating a sense of power.

“Elizabeth,” Baelena said, turning the chair meant for her backwards, splaying her legs. She bumped up to the table, gave her future employer a tight-lipped smile.

“Baelena, or else I cannot tell a Blood Elf from a Night Elf,” Elizabeth said. She held her hand in a demanding gesture, summoning a tavern worker. “Your best wine,” she said, letting a few golden coins fall out of her hand as if by magic. There was a “Yes milady,” and the poor wretch disappeared into the busy noise of the tavern.

“And what is it you wish of me, most noble lady,” Baelena said, letting a slight slur of disdain slip out.

“You disapprove of the shadows?” Elizabeth challenged.

Baelena shrugged as the wine was poured in fine chalices most likely raided from a Scarlett installation of some kind. Typical of course. She had a few hoarded away herself. “Not in particular, but in my profession, something that can barely be seen is a poor mark.” She smiled and then pressed the lip of the chalice to her lips, wetting them.

Elizabeth cocked her chin, took in Baelena’s joke, and sipped her wine as well. This was like hunting a hungry wolf in a dimly lit forest. But she thought she knew how to motivate Baelena to answer “yes, yes, yes.” Extending her booted foot to Baelena’s, she made herself known to the hunter.

“So, what’s the proposition,” Baelena said finally, noting Elizabeth’s rather forward sexual nuance.

“It’s simple,” Elizabeth whispered seductively, leaning across the table. “I am building a group to take down and raid a Scarlett Library.”

Part III will issue forth on Feb. 28th. See you then.

I. Elizabeth: WoW Shadow Priest Journal (on Ascension server)

“Why are you a Shadow Priestess,” the warrior crowd always asks me. So, let me tell you anon. I took to the shadows due to the sheer allure of shadow power. There’s nothing like it, my friend. To be able to heal your faithful friends by delivering damage to your foe is quite intoxicating, maybe even a bit of eroticism by way of death, but I do go on.

For example, once while facing down two dragons with my group, even as the warriors and paladins dug into them with swords and axes, I stood aloof, sucking out the soul of one dragon, and then the other. Weakened and dizzy with pain, both dragons were vanquished. Yes, I acknowledge that the paladins and I came together in that moment as light and the much-needed shadow. I can live with this. But I do not truck with the paladin outside of missions. Their aura conflicts with my vampiric shadow.

My goals, you ask?

To become the greater shadow in the lands. My current drive, my quest is to obtain all heirlooms and relics of the Great Shadow. That’s my personal term for the one shadow that brings on night. Paladins and warriors can play their male games and struck like cocks in a barnyard. I do not care if Stormwind falls. Sure, it’s convenient for trade, but it is not immortal. Even Stormwind will falter like all cities do.

I’ve said enough.

I must back to my quest.

Adieu!

Coming this week and next week….

So, took a bit of a hiatus as I began working on the sequel to my novel (not yet titled), and my nonfiction book. This week and next week I will……

A. Begin a World of Warcraft/Ascension blog, starring Elzabetha. This character is a Vampire Lord, but there’s twist here, as she damages enemies her damage heals the party. So, this will be a first-person story, and it will continue twice a week as a challenge to myself. Looks like I will begin this blog run tomorrow in the AM. Look for it.

B. I will be bringing my vampire novel Isabel: The Portals of Hellion back online next week and running a sale. The novel will be only .99 cents for the electronic copy, and I will offer a special large paper edition for only $10 dollars (printing is almost $5 and then Amazon takes their cut, and I get a cup of coffee *grins*).

Isabel: The Portals of Hellion for 99 cents!!

Ok, ok, ok, you didn’t get your dark-side gift for X-mas. No crazy sex, no seduction, no salacious liaisons to speak of at all. Well, you came to the right place. Isabel: The Portals of Hellion gives you all of that, plus a plot devoted to a vampire and a demoness plotting to overtake the mystical land of Ravoria and set up a dark-side kingdom that Emperor Palpatine would be proud of.

Come January 1st, this dark-side tale will be taken off of Amazon and redistributed for a few bucks more on another site. So get it while its .99 cents!!! https://a.co/d/6kBtvg5

Xmas Gift for the Vampire at Heart (stakes not included)

Need a quick Xmas idea? My book, Isabel: The Portals of Hellion is good-to-go at .99 cents, or free if you have Kindle Unlimited….https://a.co/d/6kBtvg5

Dark Fantasy…Isabel: The Portals of Hellion. 99cents??

Isabel, orphan of fate and vampire of the goddess Sha’thoth, embarks upon a quest to fulfill her destiny as the chief priestess of Sha’thoth. Joined by two unlikely companions, Mal and Bjorn, the trio journey through ancient Ravoria on a quest to find the Crimson Chalice, a powerful artifact that will finally bring Sha’thoth into the mortal realm. Hunted by the Imperial Church for the crime of witchcraft, Isabel and her companions dodge not only the Holy Inquest, but finally Ilyana, a powerful vampire who desires to use the chalice as a catalyst to open a portal between dimensions in an effort to rule not only Ravoria, but modern-day Earth as well. Will Isabel win the day or die an ignoble death and awake in infernal Hellion, the home of lost souls? Part One of the Sisters of Night collection.

Available now at https://a.co/d/iADjS51

Carl Jung’s Anima/Animus

Many people visit this blog only to be shocked that I’m a “real” guy. They thought they would meet up with a gothic vampiress. Well, in a sense, they did. No, I’m not talking about pronouns and gender ID. What I am talking about is Carl Jung’s animus and anima formulation.

Most people you meet are what I term naive materialists. They made no choice in their materialistic beliefs, instead, they came to them by way of experiencing this 3D realm. They listen to others, they interact with the materialistic world we live in, and like a goldfish, swim on never realizing the real condition. For a goldfish, it’s the recognition that they swim in water, but for the human, the real condition is found inside their heads, and not outside in a meme somewhere. It can never be found in a Selfie.

Jung hypothesized that the reason most males are attracted to women is due to the anima within. Our 3D world, from the beginning, presents us often with a mother, grandmother, a string of aunts, and through them, we come to clue in to a picture of what femininity is like. By way of experience, we clue in at first where these qualities exist in the material world via girlfriends, friends, pinups. We begin to formulate, often quite unconsciously, what it is that we as males like about women. We develop an intuitive model, and by the schemes of Darwin’s evolution and its needs, we feel pulled to that composite type.

I will not be discussing the animus, but I think you can get the gist of it. I believe Kent Wayne’s Echo series really pins the needle on this concept. Go check him out. He writes good prose, animus style.

On to my experience.

I was always down with the goth girl image back in the late 80s. When Elvira graced America’s TV set, my eyes boggled. Her posters in Spencer’s mesmerized. And not to be too Freudian here, but I later realized that Elvira’s roots in my psyche spun from my stepmother’s image. Barbra was once described by my grandmother as looking “like a cat.” She had those dark eyelashes, blue eyeshade, and that black tracing on the eyes, and black hair to boot. She was no Goth, but she was one cool cat. A-ring-a-ding-ding.

After Barbra, there came a primordial image one day down in New Orleans. My stepbrothers and I were piled in the back of my stepfather’s El Camino, whizzing right along. And quite suddenly, quite uninvited, I was possessed by the image of an armored woman in a jungle, wielding a long sword. She was standing on a boulder, trying to see where she was. I was mesmerized by this instantaneous anima. I felt the urge within to do something, anything with this image. Paint? Sketch? Write? Nothing came to mind, so I lived in frustration for a long while, the anima always out of reach.

Isabel would come to me only after I was trained in summoning visuals during martial arts practice. The class would be shivering in a horse stance, and I would imagine Krishna standing before me, smiling, taking my pain away. He was a constant customer during those grueling sessions. But tantric visualization opens the door if you see what I mean. Others come through.

Isabel walked in one Friday night during my college years. Clad in black chain mail, wearing tall boots, she was cocksure and willing to prove it. She stood watching us on the peripheral of waking consciousness. My friend Paul and I were standing out our college apartment, sipping vodka, bullshitting, and Isabel leaned in, quite interested in our philosophical jibber-jabber.

I saw her, but of course Paul couldn’t. And so would begin the years of visualizing here in my creative writing years. Blurred images really, not yet distinct. But after what seemed like eons of practice, she and Ilyana, and Damiana all began to ripen and take shape. Now this novel is out. Go figure.

Thanks to my anima, Isabel, I discovered Goth bands like The Cure, Autumn, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and more. And as I listened to her mind on music, I learned more about her. When we meet here in my book, she is largely in her first stage, the archetype of the warrior. But as book number two comes through my fingers, we will see her grow and mature under Damiana’s leadership.

But that’s putting the horse before the cart.

In essence, the “Isabel” type has existed in the amber of time wayyyyyyyyy before me. Consider Lillith, Countess Bathory, and Draucla’s wives. Through time, the archetype illuminates others, makes them paint, write, sketch. And by my connection to this archetype, I too have my turn in line.

Author’s P.S.
  Barbra and my father would be married for three years. After the divorce, I never saw her again. So thanks, Barbra, for introducing me to “the look.” My grace follow wherever you walk.