Tuesday, July 28, 2026

Heroes

Adapted from my remarks at the Stone Serpent book launch May 26 2026

Bobby Sands was a real life hero - a poet, a soldier, an elected member of parliament, and a prisoner of war. At 27 years old, he gave his life for his nation after 66 days on hunger strike on May 5 1981. An Irish lad from a working class neighbourhood, Bobby had no royal blood, no magic, he was not a “chosen one”, yet he inspired millions worldwide by standing up to the brutal occupation of his homeland - a cause he was willing to sacrifice everything for. And what more can be asked of a hero? A hero stands for something, fights for something, and is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for that something. In this regard, the heroes of literature and of fantasy in particular could learn a thing or two from their real world counterparts.

Magic Blood: Fantasy as an Aristocratic Genre

Fantasy, as a literary genre, has its origins in fairy-tales. Fairy-tales being essentially folk-tales reformulated and rehashed for European aristocratic or bourgeois audiences between the 17th and 19th centuries. From the beginning, they were meant to entertain princes, princesses and the well-to-do, not working class boys from Belfast! The best that a commoner can generally hope for in a fairy-tale is to marry the king’s daughter, the medieval equivalent of winning the lottery, thereby raising his family to noble status. His friends, neighbours, village etc. would be expected to know their place and respect their betters in an idealized feudal order that could only exist in fairy-tales.

Fantasy is a fundamentally conservative genre. Emerging in reaction to the sweeping societal changes of the Industrial Revolution, it appealed to traditional notions of authority: thus it was not enough for Bard to have killed a rampaging dragon in The Hobbit, to become ruler of Laketown he also had to be a legitimate descendant of the Kings of Dale. Traditional fantasy heroes are special because of their illustrious lineage that marks them for greatness and is often the source of their magic and fantastical abilities. Aragorn is bigger, stronger and more long-lived than other men thanks to his royal Numenorean blood - 80 years old at the start of Lord of the Rings and still in his prime! While the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings might not be descended from royalty, with the exception of Sam they hail from the Shire’s gentry and are effectively nobles in their own right. Tolkien makes a big deal of their ancestry and Bilbo only embarks on his adventure with Thorin and Company because his “Tookish blood” takes over long enough to override the “respectability” of his Baggins ancestry.

This magic blood trope hasn’t gone away. It shows up in Harry Potter, Game of Thrones and almost every other fantasy franchise you can name. I myself used it in my Falhorne novels in which the main character Tagus derives great power from his mother’s sorcerous bloodline. However, I consciously avoided it in Stone Serpent. Ta, its protagonist, has no innate power and must consciously learn all of the mystical abilities he comes to wield in the course of his perilous quest to save Kenetchi from the Serpentmen. In the upcoming sequel to Stone Serpent, Arena of the Gods, Ta’s father will even admit to his son that he is not a descendant of the legendary heroes of Kenetchi as he previously believed - the same heroes that he idolized in childhood. Instead, Ta’s father was an orphaned peasant boy and the Askarii powers that he wields can technically be learned by anyone with sufficient discipline and focus. Blood does not matter.

I had to laugh when game designer and Youtuber Matt Colville had his mercenary DnD party The Chain of Acheron get hired to confront the evil “Invincible Overlord” who rules most of the known world. This would be like Blackwater getting hired to take on the Pentagon and it beggars belief in even the most outlandish fantasy setting. A more realistic approach would see the Chain of Acheron already working as hirelings of the Overlord (who almost certainly has the deepest pockets) before being betrayed by him and witnessing the deaths of most of their comrades. Now it’s personal. Now the formerly unscrupulous mercenaries have a reason to challenge a superpower with all of the deadly and unprofitable risks that entails, similar to the Bridge Burners in Steven Erikson’s Malazan novels, effectively becoming the partisans and resistance fighters that they would otherwise be tasked with crushing for their paymasters.

I consciously rejected the heroic mercenary trope in the Falhorne novels. Tagus, the protagonist, is part of the Falhorne - an ancient order of warriors dedicated to defending the now persecuted followers of the Old Gods. He’s not in it for the money. He’s fighting for his people, risking his life to protect family and community, the very things that the goons hired by his enemies are trying to destroy. Heroism isn’t something you do for money, it’s above and beyond that. People who are in it for the money in Vinos and the Thousand Cities are more than willing to cut deals with evil, even when that evil is of the non-breathing kind that drinks blood at night!

All that being said, the “heroic sellsword” can and often does subvert the “magic blood” trope discussed earlier. Conan The Barbarian can become the legitimate King of Apollonia through brute force and military skill despite not being of royal blood - something that would make him a usurper in a place like Middle Earth. Sword and sorcery heroes don’t have to be blue bloods, they just have to be tough. Frodo (even Sam) could have become King of Gondor if the Lord of the Rings were a sword and sorcery epic, though he’d have to grow some muscle first. As an aside, even if Frodo wouldn’t dare challenge Aragorn for the crown, one Tummington Pattifoot III (aka “Slim Fatstacks Pattiwhacks”), Halfling adventurer extraordinaire and protagonist of my longest ever campaign of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, most certainly would have!

The future sequel to Falhorne, Gendarme, will follow members of the Royal Guard of Vinos, the elite Gendarmerie, and their transformation from loyal soldiers to rebels against church and state. Set in the same principality that forms the main setting for the Falhorne novels, the soldiers of the Gendarmerie are tough men and women many of whom were once sellswords and, despite now being soldiers in a professional army, continue to display a lot of that unscrupulous “beat people up for money” ethos. Each of them are flawed in their own ways and bear mental and physical scars, yet they are the ones who will ultimately change everything. They will transform into defenders of the people they were trained to repress and lead a revolution that will change the Thousand Cities forever.

Stone Serpent

Stone Serpent, like the Falhorne novels, is sword and sorcery but with real heroes rather than mercenary anti-heroes. Ta, our teen protagonist, begins his journey fighting for basic survival. Like Mad Max his post-apocalyptic world is one of “fire and blood”. But as he grows up amid the ruins of his native land of Kenetchi he learns the moral principles that he will ultimately fight for.

Stone Serpent chronicles the downfall of a civilization, ancient culture and way of life that we get a picture of in Chapter 1 with the celebration of the Ancestors’ Day Festival in Ta’s home village of Ne-Ket. We see an outcast teenager who wants to be man, desires respect as defined by his society and culture while also craving the excitement and adventure that farm life doesn’t allow for. This leads directly to Chapter 6 when things fall apart and a teenager’s curiosity is enough to initiate the downfall of a society with fundamentally rotten foundations.

And who survived this cataclysm? Who survived the downfall of the ancient realm of Kenetchi with its priests, landlords and toll collectors? People survived. People built new homes, tried to care for their families, or fled to safer lands, but never forgot where they came from. Chapter 17 tells their story.

These are my heroes - frightened teenagers, refugee labourers, washed-up army veterans, failed academics - they don’t always share the same culture and language, they are scared/flawed in their own ways, but they are the people and they will save the world from evil. No saviour or lost king is returning to save them. Together they must find the strength to save themselves and that’s how it’s always been.


 

 

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Stone Serpent Book Launch 2.0

While the launch event at the Red Brick Cafe on May 26 was wonderful and well-attended, the hard copies of my most recent novel, Stone Serpent, were unfortunately not present! Hence I will be having a second book launch event at the same location on Thursday June 25 starting at 7PM. Liam Reynolds will again be present with the original oil painted cover art he created for Stone Serpent, as well as the re-released Falhorne novels both of which will be available at the event. All the books are in and we have plenty of them!

In addition to book stuff, we’re also going to do some gaming! Those who came to the May 26 event will know that I’m working on a table-top role-playing game set in the same world as my novels in which the player characters are undead revenants battling a demonic invasion in a post-apocalyptic fantasy setting. Well, on June 25 we’re going to do some live playtesting with miniatures and battle maps and see how well Champion’s Road: Hell March works in its current state! I’ll be running a short scenario with pre-generated characters for which I’ll need 4-6 players from among the attendees (first come, first served). 


 

Thursday, May 21, 2026

Falhorne Re-Release

The re-released Falhorne novels with new oil painting cover art by Liam Reynolds are now available!

Falhorne: The World is Burning (Book 1)

Book Funnel (includes Apple, Kobo, Barnes and Noble)

Amazon

Falhorne: Dark Dawn (Book 2)

Book Funnel (includes Apple, Kobo, Barnes and Noble)

Amazon


 


Friday, May 15, 2026

Stone Serpent now available!

Thanks everyone for being patient but the day has finally come! My latest fantasy novel is now live and I’ll include some links below where you can pick it up for yourself in e-book and in paperback. The launch event is still a go for May 26 7pm at the Red Brick Cafe in downtown Guelph.

Book Funnel (includes Kobo, Apple, Barnes & Noble etc.)

Amazon


 

Saturday, May 9, 2026

Stone Serpent Book Launch

I’ll be holding a launch event later this month for my new fantasy novel Stone Serpent. If you’re in the Guelph area on May 26th, please come out to the Red Brick Cafe and visit me and other local authors. In addition to readings, book signings and an open-mic, Liam Reynolds will also have his art on display. It would be great to see you there!

“Buried secrets. Unspeakable horrors.

Fifteen years have passed since the Great War and the ancient land of Kenetchi is in ruins. Ta, a peasant’s son, born to a dreary world of landlords and rice paddies, dreams of becoming a warrior. When he learns that his father is the keeper of an ancient sword once carried by the legendary hero, Chan of Sarakand, have his dreams been answered?

But with the sword comes the voice calling from the forbidden hollow hills, the voice of an eldritch monstrosity that feeds on ruin and will make Kenetchi its feast.”


 

Saturday, May 2, 2026

Stone Serpent Cover Art Complete!

The cover art for Stone Serpent is officially complete! Liam Reynold’s skill in oil painting is truly undeniable in capturing the moment where Ta (the protagonist) opens the forbidden underground chamber to reveal his nemesis.


 

The following excerpt is from Stone Serpent Chapter 17.

“Sarakand looked different from the sky. Its plazas and squares exploded outward in weaves and blossoms of color framed by bustling thoroughfares that faded into dark spiderwebs of side streets and alleyways. The glistening spires of the former Royal Palace and the Academy’s high shimmering dome, soared over the monotonous expanses of mudbrick tenements separated from the manors of the wealthy by walled gardens of glistening green. Then there were the sun-bleached lines of the city walls and the harbor where boats scudded back and forth like little black beetles against a limitless blue horizon.

Hong stood above it all. Surveying viscounts and beggars from his rickety throne of sun washed timbers. Sweat dripped into his squinting eyes, crisscrossing his sunburnt skin in long winding rivers. A king with a crown of matted black hair, with a cheap hammer for a scepter.

“Oi, crawler! Quit your ogling and put your back into it!”

Standing on the slender walkway, arms akimbo and with all the charisma of an undressed block of sandstone, was Atesh the foreman. Wretched was the king to have him in his retinue.

Hong exhaled, averting his gaze from the spreading expanse of rooftops, conscious once more of the hammer in his hand, the chisel in his belt, and the empty gulfs of space behind and beneath him.

It was not his city anyway.

Weariness gripped his aching wrists as he returned to work, the chisel’s impact sending up fine plumes of stone dust.

Behind him, the treadmill crane rumbled as it hauled the latest in an endless succession of loads to the pinnacle of the ascending tower that would one-day crown Sarakand’s Citadel. In the past three months, Hong had seen it rise to a dizzying height that made the men in the courtyard resemble children’s toys.

He did not envy poor old Ying, whose legs drew up every block the masons added to the rising structure. Those legs, born of Kwang’s foothills, carried the whole crew.

Hong’s chisel rang out in unison with Maz’s on his right, joining with the drum of their hammers, though the Sarakand native, twitching from quickleaf withdrawal, would never acknowledge harmony with an outlander. Hong had heard him complain to Atesh more than once. Despite having worked side by side for days, they had yet to exchange a single word.

The discordant melody circled the tower’s half-formed belvedere, quarried stones trimmed and smoothed by a circular chorus of chisels and hammers. It droned for hours, interrupted only by the whistling of the wind that swept the precarious walkways. Aching arms and backs played the same monotonous rhythm over creaking scaffolding until the sun sank low, throwing wine stains over the sandstone.

At last, the hollow trumpet sounded from below, the sound echoing among the city’s domes and spires, to signal that the day was done. Atesh’s masters would not pay for the lamp oil to allow work to continue at night, nor would the pool of workers be so plentiful if they did.

Hong downed tools and rose to his feet, clinging to the stonework as the bones in his legs cracked, cramped muscles straining as he took his first steps. There were no railings up here and the only way to work and survive in the constantly blowing wind was to remain on one’s knees for hours on end. It was a hard lesson that some didn’t live long enough to learn.

Harsh gusts whistled in his ears, making him cling tighter to the stonework as he edged along the walkway. Three months in and he still wasn’t used to it. Never, not in the most backbreaking harvest of his life, had farm labor been this hard. The sights and smells of the rice paddy, thronged with mud-covered friends and neighbors, were more infinitely more wholesome than rickety scaffolding loaded with strangers. Surely the Goddess had never meant for Her children to toil in this dawn to dusk village in a foreign sky, but it was the least of many abominations.

Keeping his eyes on the curving line of masonry, he followed Maz toward the crane. He crept forward, not daring to move any faster as the boards creaked under his hesitant steps.

How could Maz walk so confidently? Like he was strolling down a village lane.

A sudden gust whipped at his tunic and he muttered a hasty prayer to the Lady of the Rice Harvest.

The breeze was interrupted by a loud crack. Before Hong could even think, the scaffolding, worn smooth by days of plodding feet, gave way.

His heart froze, suspended in a gulf of nothingness that clawed greedily at his ankles. The weight of his body rested on whitening knuckles, weakened by hours of toil.

The splintered boards echoed in space as they fell down and down.

Blurred shapes swirled above him. He heard voices shouting, but couldn’t make out the words over the wind whistling in his ears.

His fingers faltered. This was the end.

Hong shut his eyes as his panicked heart thundered, silently begging Yara for forgiveness and praying for the Goddess to keep her and Ming and Chan…

Suddenly there were hands on his straining arms. He could hear cursing over the racing of his own blood as he was pulled upward.

He was looking into Maz’s scowling red face and that of a second laborer whose name he couldn’t remember.

They dragged him over the creaking boards, depositing him on the platform.

The next thing he heard was Atesh’s barking voice.

“Watch your bloody footing, idiot!”

Hong was aware of little else until his feet rested firmly upon the Goddess’s earth.”

Release date coming soon! Stay tuned!

Heroes

Adapted from my remarks at the Stone Serpent book launch May 26 2026 Bobby Sands was a real life hero - a poet , a soldier, an elected me...