Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 15.12.17 The Princess and the Wood

The Princess sat in the Parliament of the Bright Court, as the Fey conferred on the best way to end their war with the Unseelie Court of Netherhill. The meeting had gone on for over an hour.

The dryad had found a gemstone from the beggar’s box, glittering with an evil light, tucked away in the sleeve of the Princess’s blouse. That was how the Fey knew she was there before rescuing her from the Land Kelpie. Its light had died, the stone now useless to finding her. Only sight or other ordinary senses could pick up her presence. The Princess politely refused all offers of food or drink, as she knew something of Faerie, and was aware that she would be bound to this land forever by partaking of sustenance, never to return to the mortal world.

Parliament was waiting for the High Queen Andromeda to attend and preside over the meeting, when a visibly flustered gnome, who announced,“The High Queen has been taken from us by trickery! She is gone from her chambers and cannot be found!” The wizened gnome seemed shaken, his voluminous beard reaching nearly to his knees, his spectacles slightly askew, and his belt was loaded with a collection of tools and instruments that had clearly seen better days. His blue felt cap topped his balding head. He looked as though he was a survivor of one too many incidences of exploding or malfunctioning widgets in some out of the way laboratory.

“I will go to find her.” The Princess volunteered. “As the only mortal in this room, and with the gem removed, the Unseelie will be unable to find me by enchantment or charm.” Parliament was silent momentarily, then a faun about two rows of seats to the left of her said,“If you do this, we shall be in your debt, human.” “We will help you get there!” Piped a group of kobolds, their high-pitched voices almost comical, though the Princess refrained from laughing or otherwise showing amusement.

“Let’s do this then. There’s no telling what those fiends are doing to her while she’s in their hands!” The gnome had gathered his wits, and now looked much more collected than a moment ago. “I have just the means of getting us there! Tell me, O Princess, have you ever travelled by airship before?”

To be continued
Troy David Loy ©2017

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Advertisements

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 8.12.17 The Zoomies

Eccles ran through the house like a mad-cat, jellybean toes on all four paws moving almost too quickly to gain traction on the rugs and wood finishing of the floor. Ricky was nearly upon him, in the dark of the late night.

Ricky’s greater bulk and longer stride affording more speed than Eccles as the two sped on a frenzied chase through the house. The patter-patter-patter of cat feet would have been too loud if not for the white noise of the fans and air conditioner going for both cooling the house and letting the humans sleep in peace.

There!

Eccles spied his favorite toy, a motorized plastic ball with a fake weasel tail attached. Grabbed it! Eccles caught it in his mouth, as Ricky’s mass and momentum made him slide on the hallway rug, moving it out of place and crumpled as the much bigger cat narrowly avoided running into a wall and waking the humans with a muffled Thump!

Eccles took his prize into his human’s room, jumping up onto the bedding and placing the weasel-ball down while Ricky collected his dignity, joining the human and Eccles on the warm sheets and fluffy pillows as the night wore into early morning.

A suspicious glance from a half-conscious human eye spied the pair as they settled down from the zoomies before all three slept.

Troy David Loy ©2017

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 24.11.17 Delphinus

He raced through the briny deeps, his sleek, torpedolike form cutting rapidly through the waves. His attention was drawn to a sonar blip he could see before him. It was a human, struggling to keep her head above the waves as those tried to drive her small form below to a watery grave. He had only seconds to go before she began to drown.

There!

She had begun to give up just before his main dorsal fin broke the surface, and her struggling threatened to attract a nearby school of sharks.

Fortunately for both of them, she was not bleeding. That would draw them immediately. Her hands, desperate to hold onto anything that may keep her afloat, grabbed his back and dorsal fin as planned, giving her time to cough out water, as he swam toward a rescue craft looking for survivors of the capsized vessel.

He knew the humans, and the female would be safe in their hands once they spotted her being carried toward them.

Once there, he let her catch the life ring before the rescue crew pulled her up to safety, her last sight of her dolphin rescuer being that of a raised tail fluke slapping the water, as he dove back into the deep ocean.

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 1.12.17 The protector

Tirahd8 was badly injured, left for dead in battle, a battle fought overhead in the skies above this tiny world by its own species in contest with the elfin inhabitants of this one. Its own people had badly underestimated the resolve and mettle of these puny beings, who had led them into a clever trap and shown themselves to be canny warriors worthy of respect. For the first time in its memory, the Broogh were being beaten back with tactical prowess the equal of their own and superior numbers, however unsubtle and crude the weaponry used.

The humans, they called themselves, used primitive thermonuclear devices, not gravity-bombs, to attack the Broogh expeditionary force, and successfully repelled it from the system. Tirahd8 could not move, not without losing more of its vital fluids than it already had, and had just enough life to call a soldier’s prayer litany to the Swarm fleet’s God-Thegn. Or so it thought.

It closed its eyes, and awaited the inevitable end as pain began to fade and its life ebbed. Wait. What was that sound?

Anjali Mehra had seen the alien warrior fall from the sky from several kilometers away, her landcrawler “borrowed” from her parents’ farm before orbital bombardment by the aliens destroyed both her home and several tens of hectares of land in her absence. She had just returned from town on errands and heard the sound of impact, thinking it maybe a crashed human-built craft with possible survivors. Part of her errand run was picking up medical supplies. It was clear they would be of no use to her parents as she
saw the crater left by the orbital strike.

She got a better look at the visitor as her ‘crawler approached, and a sort of semidetached anger arose as she saw the dinosaurine giant. The thought of revenge occurred, and subsided as she got closer, cautious to avoid the tail and six massive legs. It had broken one of its arms, and the other was leaking . . . blood of a sort? A massive cannon-like weapon, probably wielded by the arms, was some distance away, and so damaged as to be useless.

And then, a thought occurred to her as she assessed her situation. She was standing close to it, close enough to be swatted like a mosquito, and yet the warrior was doing her no harm. It just looked at her, seemingly helpless, barely able to move. She cursed herself for her madness. Her father would have been furious, and the other humans on her world would punish her for aiding an enemy. She decided to save its life rather than let it die. She had no family anymore, and it had been left for dead by its own species, so why not?

Anjali was only fifteen years of age, but had grown quite independent for her youth, and was well-trained in treating injured soldiers — of her species. But the supplies she picked up ought to do good here, too. She pulled out a limpet-like storage canister of medical femto-drones, subatomic robots that could heal tissue and restore function in all but the badly decomposed or totally destroyed. This canister was still at factory settings. It would need to calibrate itself to the patient. Tirahd8 gave out a low groan as she placed the canister’s adhesive undersurface to its form, clicked a release button, then stepped back. It first hoped the human was simply attaching an explosive, intending to put it out of its misery, just before the femto-drones began buzzing about it, their work generating bursts of Cerenkov radiation as they swarmed around it and
began reconfiguring atomic nuclei.

“Try not to move.” She told it.“I know you can understand me. Your armor’s translator is undamaged, and keyed to my world’s primary language. I know how your species works in combat engagements. The femto-drones are figuring out your biology before they fix you up. Then we can get us both to a safe place away from this. We’re now alone among our own, you and I. I can’t just let you die here. My parents are dead, damn you, but here we are.” In seconds, the femto-tech machines had set themselves, and began tissue regeneration, restoration of blood, and bone-setting in the giant. In
minutes, the broogh was fully restored to health, and stood to its full height of five stories while Anjali waited and the femto-drones began their suicide programming, breaking down into stable isotopes of carbon, nitrogen, and hydrogen.

Anjali stood there, looking up at Tirahd8 as it pondered what to do with her. Why? Why did she place herself in obvious danger like this? At first the warrior could not understand why something it could crush in a single step would spare its life. At first, it made no sense. Anjali stood back, waiting.

She remained still, watching the broogh towering over her, expecting a massive hoofed foot to end her existence then and there. And then she did the unthinkable. She moved closer to Tirahd8 instead of trying to run for her life.

She placed her tiny hand on one of the massive hooves as Tirahd8 kneeled and
lowered one of its arms to her, allowing her to step onto its outstretched palm as it raised her closer to chest-level. Every combat instinct told it to squash her. But Broogh honor due a brave warrior told it otherwise. Even the mighty Broogh knew of mercy, which normally amounted to killing a foe quickly and without pain, but this was a rare occasion. This human had shown it mercy by saving its life at risk to her own. Anjali pointed to a distance from their location, easily visible from this height. There were vehicles approaching. More landcrawlers, with humans in them, who would not be so merciful. Her gesture was a warning.

Tirahd8 saw a canyon some distance away, a place for the two to hide, and the broogh ran toward it in thunderous strides of massive, trunk-like legs, galloping as fast as this planet’s gravity and its own mass would allow it, human girl sitting atop its left shoulder as it easily outran the ‘crawlers. It knew it could not return to its fellows, as it was officially dead to them. The girl would be tried and punished by her fellows, and it owed her a debt of gratitude. Tirahd8 would protect the human until such time as both
perished.

It was the two of them against the universe, broogh and human together, linked in a cross-species bond of obligation, and the uncaring heavens above help anyone who stood in their way.

Troy David Loy ©2017

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 17.11.17

‘Raptor’s Last Day

Razor-foot ran with his pack, feathers flashing bright colors in the afternoon sun, the pack’s prey only now looking up in time for the kill. Razor-foot was at the lead and struck first, as a deft toe-claw raked the stupid, slow herbivore’s flank.

The smell of blood and the sound of tearing flesh was exhilarating to the ravenous pack. This would be a quick kill, Razor-foot thought as he bit down and readied his toe-claws for another strike.

It was too soon.

Oh, no!

A blur of motion from his left side was followed by the impact of a massive tail bristling with spikes as it slammed into his head.

But before his world went forever dark in a sea of pain, he could have sworn he heard the cry of victory as the rest of his pack took down the prey, never living to see the final bites and claw-strikes that made it so!

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 10.11.17

Nogg the Tetherspawn

Nogg the Tetherspawn had just appeared before the magician, in a puff of sulfurous smoke within the carefully drawn containment circle. This particular magician seemed to be making his very first try at “calling spirits from the vasty deep,” and so Nogg had come to answer the call.

But Nogg was not angry. Far from it! He was amused by the young demonologist’s presumption. He almost felt sorry for the young idiot – almost. His pronunciation of demonic True Names was atrocious, apparently due to a speech impediment. The young fool had just switched the first letters of his own name, and thus failed to gain power over him.

It would be a simple matter to snatch his soul and drag it to the Lower Realms, for the Name invoked on arrival was that of his distant cousin, Togg the Nether Spawn, who was not the one called forth!

This would cost the novice magician dearly. Nogg bared his fangs as he leapt, free from the containment circle once its magic collapsed, and smiled as he landed square on this victim’s chest, ready for a quick delivery to Hell’s furnaces.

In less than a second, it was over, as he arrived almost instantaneously at the gates of the Nether Realms, new soul in hand.

And he had the perfect region of this Circle’s River of Putrid Slime to consign it to. He would be well-rewarded by this realm’s Duke, for the soul of a demonologist is worth more than that of a mortal emperor – many, many larvae indeed for its wealth of True Names!

And that would be just enough to pay his debt to that pesky imp who beat him at poker last Tuesday!

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 3.11.17

Gr’ozz on the Hinterlands

The Centaurs cantered out of the forest’s tree line and went to a full gallop across the open plain. Their lead archer had spotted the probable location of an intruder to their territory, a being of a sort not seen here before.

It was big, this one, something like a man, something like a dragon, and standing some three meters tall. It had horns; a long, heavy tail swayed back and forth behind it. Its left arm ended in a tip that looked all the world like a mace of sculpted bone. It looked like it had more muscle than it knew what to do with, and it strode confidently over to them as they galloped closer, longbows ready and arrows nocked.

It raised its right arm as if to greet them, and said something in a language oddly out of place for its vocal equipment, yet they understood the gravelly, resonating tones.

“Me, Gr’ozz want to talk! Gr’ozz have news of coming of Bad Men! They carry weapons to hurt while they hunt and hound Gr’ozz!” The creature said, sounding more toddler than adult in speech patterns, yet looked serious enough for the Centaurs to slow down and listen.

“Gr’ozz being hunted by Bad Men. Bad Men look like Gr’ozz, but short, shorter than Half-Horses, shorter even than humans, but not as handsome or smart as Gr’ozz! Bad Men will hurt Half-Horses too! Gr’ozz want to stop them.”

The Centaurs lowered their longbows. This creature, whatever it was, seemed dull of mind, or perhaps merely speech-impaired, but of good heart and would do them no harm.

“Me, Gr’ozz always wanted to say this, so here go . . . Take me to your leader!”

To be continued

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
https://kestalusrealm.wordpress.com
https://troythulu.blogspot.com
on Tumblr at https://troythulu.tumblr.com
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at: https://www.amazon.com/author/troyloy