Return to Ark - New Friends

Ark has been a lot of fun, but what makes the game really shine are the people.  Nothing but helpful and fun, the people featured in this piece are the best. 



"So what's next for HQ?" Blue asked as the group sat at the tables of the new rooftop lounge.

Rose took a long slow drink before answering, "I think I've done enough.  I still want that Dracolich."

"Ooooh!" Miki exclaimed.  "Me too!"  Her words were slurred as she had been drinking a bit longer than the rest after getting the beer keg hooked up to the irrigation system.  She had to test out the product, of course!  That's what she had told everyone when they all arrived for the first official Happy Hour.

Deer looked out toward the waterfall that obscured his living area.  "I'm starting to run out of room.  Those things take up a lot of space."

"You've been clearing out the space and now you want to fill it up again?" Argent asked while pouring himself another tankard of beer.  The large man was definitely in need of another haircut as the Mohawk and Biker 'Stache look was growing out to ridiculous proportions.

Rose laughed at the big man.  "That’s what we do."  Her hand rested on the triceratops skull sitting on the table next to her, her fingers idly brushing over the bony crest.  Miki grinned and nodded vigorously, sloshing her drink on the table.

Blue was lost in thought as he wrote in his notebook, most likely designing the next of his upcoming events.  He looked up distractedly, "We do what?"  Rose picked a berry out of the bowl on the table and threw it at the naked man's head.  He blinked as the ripe projectile splatted against his forehead and frowned as the red juice dripped down onto his notebook.

Bubbling laughter burst from Rose so Miki was the one who answered.  "We're going out to tame a dracolich, and you're coming with."  Blue simply nodded and went back to writing.

After recovering, Rose muttered into her beer.  "I just hope the draco doesn't have weird feet."  Everyone turned to look at her.  "I'm telling you!  That thing had feet on its feet!"

Miki laid a hand on her friend's shoulder and said softly, "Sure Rose.  We believe you, but maybe you've been working a little too hard?"  Argent was doing his best not to laugh, but he looked around in confusion as a shadow suddenly passed over all of them.  He looked up and his confused expression grew as saw a large shape filling the space above headquarters.  Noting the ragged leathery wings and emaciated scales with protruding bones, he realized what he was seeing.

"Rose, your chance at a Dracolich is here," he said with a distinct note of fear in his voice.  The beast let out a screech as it dropped into a dive straight down.   Argent scrambled to his feet and ran for the edge of the roof.  He looked over his shoulder as the four experienced tribe leaders drew weapons and began firing.  The red skeletal dragon swooped down the roof and Argent leaped over the railing, aiming for the water below.  Unfortunately, he fell short and hit the stone floor with a bone shattering crunch.

Weapons fire and loud echoing roars blasted through the massive cavern as Argent hobbled back into HQ, his vision blurry and red as the nanites rushed through his body to correct the damage caused by his fall.  Eating some meat to give the tiny machines more fuel to do their work, he managed to get to the crafting area.  Creatures of every size and color were screeching and roaring outside, some in rage and pain, many in fear.

After grabbing a wicked looking crossbow and some ammunition from one of the lockers, he rushed to the front door.  Outside was complete chaos as the menagerie of beasts rushed around in panic.  First, he grabbed the pink dodo, Bruce while it raced by.  A sudden blast of green glowing gas lit up the cavern above and he looked up to see a flash of flapping undead wings. 

Deer swooped by on one of his flying monsters, firing his weapon as his mount unleashed a blast of flame.  Rose, riding on the enormous World Eater, flew away from the combat to get the valuable mount clear of the fighting.  She leaped off the hideous bat-like creature and swooped down over the water with her wings extended.  Miki and Blue launched an endless stream of bolts into the dracolich from the rooftop while running and dodging frantically to avoid tooth, claw, and acidic clouds. 

Still running in and out of the HQ’s main doors, Argent grabbed one critter after another and brought them to safety.  Then came a blast from above as something broke.  He turned to look up as the broken remains of the beer keg and all of its contents came crashing down onto him.  The last thing that he knew before darkness claimed him was blunt force and foamy goodness.

When he finally came to, the others were already cleaning up and taking stock of all of the mounts and smaller tames.  Miki noticed Argent starting to rouse and walked over to crouch in front of him.  “You’re crazy, you know that?  Thanks for saving so many of my little friends, but why didn’t you just whistle to them?”  She ruffled his beer-soaked hair and pulled him back to his feet. 

“Well that was pretty stupid, huh?”  Argent looked around until he spotted a huge reddish dragon near the water’s edge.  Rose stood next to the beast, watching it carefully.  She turned to look up at Argent as he approached and he could see the huge grin behind the trike skull helmet.  “Found a new friend?”

Rose nodded and winced at the motion.  “Her name is Ashka.  Do you like it?”

Smiling back, he nodded and said quietly, “Yes, I do.”  After a quiet moment, he added “So, can we go for a ride?”

New Game - New Inspiration

So I started playing ARK: Survival Evolved.  It's multiplayer game and the people are amazing!  Miki is one of my oldest friends and it's so great to be able to play with her online again.  There was a joke about her Discord channel having a FanFic and Fan Art channel and this little drabble popped into my head.  Enjoy!

A Day in the Life (and Death) of Ark

"Aaaaahhhhhh‼" came a distant scream.  Immediately, two other voices responded over the commlink.

"What is it?"  The calm, male voice was drowned out by a much more frantic female voice.

"Rose, where are you?"  Miki was flying around the snowcapped mountains looking for materials and scanning the skies for danger.

"It's going to kill me!" Rose screamed again.  "And my bird!"

Almost in sync, Deer and Miki both replied in varying degrees of urgency.  "Where?"

"At the shore, Northeast of HQ!  Ahhhh!" Rose was frantic, her tone that of someone in the middle a fight for her life.

Deer, on his trusty Leviathan, began soaring toward Rose's location. 

Miki scrambled around headquarters, trying to decide which of her vast stable to take on this potentially dangerous crisis.  She settled on her newest mount, a beautiful purple and green wyvern and whistled to it.  Unfortunately, she caught the attention of every mount in the area and they all came rushing toward her.  As the motley assortment of creatures swarmed around her, Miki began laughing and swearing as she sorted through horde to find the mount she wanted.

From the ridge above HQ, a lone figure dressed in a ragged mix of cloth and hides watched the chaos below.  Argent, the newest member of the tribe, glanced over his shoulder at the pteranodon milling around the flat ground near modest sized thatch hut.  Primus had died horribly a few days ago but this new mount was doing well.  Deer had been amazingly helpful in getting the newbie back on his feet with the new mount and plenty of materials.

There was a sudden rush of air as Miki's wyvern came shooting up through the aerial opening to the base.  She banked off to the Northeast and out of sight.  Rose was still screaming in panic while Deer calmly moved toward her location, occasionally asking for directions or an update on her status.

Miki's voice suddenly broke through the chatter, "Shit!  I forgot my weapons!  I'll be right back!  Sorry Rose!"

 "Oh no!  There's another one!" Rose screamed again.

"I'm almost there," Deer replied.  "I think I see you."

Argent chuckled and turned back toward his hut.  He looked over the structure and mentally tried to picture what he would work on next?  Replace the thatch with wood?  Or just move straight to a sturdy stone, building?  There was another rush of air behind him as Miki dove back down toward the tribe's main base.

"Okay Rose," Miki said frantically.  "I'll just grab my stuff and be right there."

There was a moment of silence on the comms until Rose answered in a much calmer voice, "Never mind.  Everything's okay."

Argent smiled and walked toward his hut but paused as Primus II let out a screech.  He turned toward the dinosaur, wondering what would cause him to make that sound but his answer came soon enough.  A chittering growl came from his left as a massive raptor stalked up the hill and into view.  Argent could almost see the blood stains on the beasts claws as a moment of recognition flashed between them.

Over the comms the rest of the tribe heard soft low voice.  "Well, Damn."

More writing and something New

A third story published in the Decemeber issue of Sirens Call e-zine. Two short stories will be published in upcoming anthologies.  One at Sirens Call and one at Fantasia Divinity!  (Will post links when those are out.

2nd Story Accepted at Sirens Call!

Another story of mine was accepted for the Sirens Call ezine.  "Reach for the Light" is a creepy little story that I started based on an idea I had while watching Ghost Hunters.  It seemed like a perfect time to get story written and though it's short, I feel it definitely hit the disturbing vibe.  It will be coming out in the July issue.

As of now, I still haven't received the final word about my first hand account story, but the last email I got indicated that I was still in the running.

Big News

A good friend of mine is also a writer (Zachary O'Shea. Check out his site: http://lastslicestudios.com/).   He has been submitting his work to various publishers for years.  A little over a month ago I happened to see a post of his about a call for writers from Siren's Call Publications.  http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/

I answered the call.

The original post was for a short story anthology called "First Hand Accounts".  All submissions have to be horror stories written in the first person perspective.  Thanks to the Undead Wars, I have a substantial amount of experience with that style so I figured I would give it a shot.  I've completed my first draft and will be submitting the story as soon as I finish my second draft.  I always go back and flesh out my stories and add details in my rewrites.

While checking out the submission guidelines, I happened to see another open submission call for the Halloween edition of their bi-monthly ezine.  I went into my writing folder and pulled out an old short story, made a few edits and submitted it.

It was Accepted!   My first official publication!  To say that I'm excited is quite an understatement.  I know that writing is something that I will be doing for the rest of my life and it's thrilling to know that others will be reading my work and (hopefully!) enjoying it.

I'll be posting more soon.

Something New! Meet the Hunter

 This idea grew straight from a dream: a wild, totally cinematic dream.  This was the scene that played out as I was waking up and started working on the setting and characters right away.   I don't know if this will turn into a new novel or a short story, but I really like the setting so far.  Enjoy!


Trouble at Stix

Steffin pushed open the massive copper doors and gazed into the noisy smoke-filled tavern.   A few eyes turned his way, but they quickly shifted away.  No one ever stared at strangers unless they were looking for a fight.  His Hunter-reflexes were in high gear, as they always were.  He scanned the crowd intently as he stepped slowly inside.  He made no sudden or aggressive moves and by the time the door closed behind him, he was confident that no serious threat existed.  He was tall and lean with leathery, tanned skin that came from time spent outdoors.  Slipping his black shades up onto hairless head, he rubbed at the dark stubble covering his jawline and muttered softly, “time for a decent shave”.

He strode across the room, slowly and easily, his hands at his sides, long coat flapping around his knees.  As he approached the bar, he glanced up at the stylized sign that read, “Stix”.  The “x” was formed by two broken pool cues.  Looking passed the bar, he smiled at the large room where ten pool tables were arranged in two even rows.  Even though it was hours before sundown, the tables were all occupied and the clack of billiard balls was loud in Steffin’s ears.

“Steff, is that you?  It’s been, what a year since you’ve been to church?”

Steffin grinned at the man behind the bar.  He was broad-shouldered and dark-skinned.  Lines creased the corners of his eyes but the man’s wide bright smile, showed that the wrinkles were not from worry or anger.  His hair was black and close-cropped and the gray mixed in at the temples were the only clue to his advancing age.

“Nice to see you, Keve.  It has been a while.  How’s the flock?”  The pool hall and tavern was located in an old church, something that made the Christians furious.  Few of the patrons knew about the origin of the building but for Steffin and the bartender, it was a running joke.

“Oh, I can’t complain.”  He took on a solemn expression and intoned, “Our cup runneth over.  Speaking of, what can I get you?”

Steffin smiled at the old joke and moved up to lean on the bar.  “Gimme a water.”

“Gonna be two cred.”  At Steffin’s visible wince, he continued.  “It’s the dry season.  Rationing is in full swing.  Mud and Juice are both only a cred though.”

Both alcohol drinks, mud was actually fermented goat’s milk that was typically thick and brown, thus the name.   Juice was a straight grain alcohol distilled from a mix of hemp, wheat and barley.  Steffin never partook in substances that could dull his senses or reflexes.  It had been almost a decade since he left the Hunters, but he had never abandoned his training.

“No thanks, Keve.  Water’s fine.  What do you have on the grill?”

“Got a decent rat steak.”  Seeing his friend’s expression, he continued, “Or we’ve got some ham as well.  I’ll get you a nice cut.  Gonna be five cred total.”  Steffin handed over a plast chit, stamped with the Carseno seal on one side the number five on the other.  “You gonna want a run on one of the tables?”

“Hey!  I’m next on the wait list!”  Keve glanced up at someone behind Steffin’s right shoulder.  The bartender’s smile slipped slightly and his eyes narrowed.   Steffin saw his friend slowly moving his hand to something under the bar and he knew that he had to act before the situation could escalate.  

The low voice that rumbled from Steffin was almost unrecognizable.  “Easy friend.  There is no need for concern.”  Keeping his hands clearly visible, he slowly turned to the man behind him.  More of a kid really, he couldn’t be more than sixteen; probably just back from his mandatory tour with the Rangers.  Steffin knew the type, tough enough to be a threat and young enough to be unpredictable.  The kid’s eyes were locked on Steffin and they had a slightly glazed look.  After taking in a slow breath, Steffin continued speaking but now his voice took on a soft, almost sing-song quality.  “We’re all friends here, looking for a good time.  I’m not going to take anything from you.  Go watch some of the games.  Your turn is coming up soon.”

The young man relaxed and his face lit up with a gap-toothed smile.  He turned and walked into the pool hall without another word.  Steffin watched him go, his stance relaxed but way.  A low whistle made him turn back to the bar.

“Damn, Steff. It is always spooky watching you work.  You do have the Gift.”

Grinning back the bartender, Steffin added “the Gift of Grift.”

“Useful talent, that.  Let me go put your order in."  A few moments later, Steffin carried his mug of water to one of the puff seats on the wall.  He settled into the chair, a molded plast frame covered in a squishy cushion.   He shifted until the seat was comfortable but wouldn’t hinder his movements.  Then he took a slow sip of his drink and surveyed the room.  

He slowly brushed his hands down over the sides of his coat in a gesture that seemed casual, but reassured him that his possessions were all in place: a small pouch of cred-chits, a plast tube the length of his forearm and finally a hard plast box, eight inches by six inches.  The last was his prized possession, a flashbox, made for storing and displaying information.  He knew that long ago, it would have been called a computer, but the old tech had long-since vanished.  He wanted to take out the device and listen to some music or watch a holo-vid but showing such a valuable item here would only invite trouble. 

Like her.

His eyes locked onto a young woman in the corner to his right, staring down a flickering holographic image projected from the box on her lap.  He couldn’t make out her facial features but she had smooth brown skin, a few shades lighter than the bartender.  Her straight black hair was cut to just below her ears and Steffin could tell that it had been cut using scissors instead of a knife like that of most common folk. A few people looked at her and the valuable object on her lap with an eager expression, but no one approached.   That was when he noticed the emblem on her gray coat: two diamonds forming a downward “V” shape.

Few people in the 26th century would recognize the shape of a book, but they all knew the symbol for the Archivists, the mysterious and powerful keepers of knowledge and tech.  Back in his days as a Hunter, Steffin’s most profitable jobs had come from capturing anyone who accosted or stole from the Archivists.  In fact, his flashbox had come from one such job, when a group of raiders had robbed and murdered a traveling member of the order.  Even among the desperate and depraved, word of what happened to those who attacked an Archivist was well-known.

Taking another sip of water, Steffin began to relax when suddenly a shiver went up his spine, a feeling that usually that alerted him to danger.  He shifted in his seat and focused on the room around him.  Though he was by no means an “Observer”, he did possess a keen sense of hearing.  He brushed his fingers over his ears and suddenly, the sounds of the room magnified to almost painful levels.  Breathing slowly and evenly, he blocked out the sounds of chatter, clunking mugs, shuffling footsteps and crashing and clacking sounds from the pool hall.

He started to think his danger sense had been faulty, something that had occurred numerous times in the past.   But then a sound made him tense again, a soft steady hiss.  He focused on the sound until he pinpointed the source.  Along the wall, moving slowly between the door and the Archivist was a human-sized shape.  As Steffin watched, the hues of the person’s skin changed to blend with the wall behind them. 

The hissing sound was the focus used by assassin for the power of Camouflage.  All powers required the use of gestures or sounds, sometimes both.   “The eyes are the weakness”, the Hunter thought. “They can’t alter the whites of their eyes.”  Judging by the direction of the figure’s slow movement, its target was the Archivist.  Every instinct in his body told him that the young woman was in danger.  Moving slowly and deliberately, he shifted to the edge of his seat and slid his hand down to the hard plast cylinder strapped to his left leg, undid the straps and freed the weapon.

The color-shifted assassin was only eight feet from the distracted Archivist.  The figure edged closer and raised a hand, fingers curled into claws.  “A Slicer!” he thought with alarm.  He recognized that gesture and he knew that he had to act immediately.  He stood quickly, pulling his weapon out from under his coat.  With a quick flip of his wrist, the cylinder extended with a series of clicks into a staff, almost six feet long.  Then he lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.

There was a soft pop in the air where he had been standing and in the blink of an eye, he was across the room, standing between the assassin and the target.  The sudden appearance of the Hunter made the assassin jump back in alarm and the sudden movement disrupted their concentration.   A swirl of shifting color revealed that the surprised attacker was a bald woman with pale skin.  Before Steffin could register any details of her appearance, the woman hissed loudly. Simultaneously, her skin changed to an inky black color while her arm began to blur forward, impossibly fast.  Steffin knew that he couldn’t block the attack, but that was one reason he wore such a heavy coat.  The fingers of her hand tore at the fabric, ripping it open in a set four long gashes from his left shoulder down across his chest.

Steffin snapped his fingers again and with another soft pop, he was behind her, already swinging his staff down at her exposed back.  Somehow, the woman managed to dodge the blow and Steffin overextended himself.  There was another rush of air as she whirled to face him and he felt a searing pain in his right arm as her knife-like fingers ripped open his coat to reach the skin underneath.  There was also a snapping sound and a cry of pain from the woman and Steffin knew that the she had paid a terrible price for her attack.  Slicers could move their hands and arms fast enough to rip through flesh and cloth, but anything more resilient could result in serious injuries such as broken bones, pulled muscles and dislocated joints.  Sometimes they used knives to lessen the potential damage but the woman’s use of stealth prevented her from concealing a weapon.

Her eyes became tiny slits as she glared at Steffin.  “Bastard! You’ll pay for meddling with my task.”  She made a clicking sound with her tongue and she was suddenly gone!  

“Damnit!  She’s a Speedster!” the Hunter growled to himself as whirled around, looking wildly for any sign of the woman.  She had to be close!  A pop could only be done within line of sight and over short distances.
“There!” a voice shouted from behind him.   He glanced over his shoulder at the Archivist and saw her pointing toward the pool hall.  His head snapped around in that direction but he saw nothing.  

“What are you talking…” he began ask incredulously, but then he spotted it.  In the rafters, a shape was flitting from one heavy beam to another.  Her skin had changed to the same color as the ceiling, but the sudden movements made her visible.  He snapped his fingers and, Pop!  He was in the pool hall.  He jumped up and with another snap and a pop, he was in the rafters as well.  He repeated the same pattern in quick succession: jump, snap, pop as he followed the woman across the heavy wooden beams but unfortunately, she had a head start and the ability to blend into her surroundings.

After his third pop, he paused to look around wildly to find his quarry, but there was no sign of her.  He listened for the hiss or click that accompanied her use of her powers, but all he could hear was the wild pounding of his heartbeat and the excited murmurs of the crowd below.  Then he spotted something that made him groan softly: an open window.  He watched the rafters for almost an entire minute while straining his enhanced hearing as much as he could.  Finally he grumbled to himself and turned to look down at the ground for a safe place to pop down.  

He shifted his grip on the wooden beam and winced at the sharp pain in his arm. On his upper arm, a red stain was spreading where she had landed her attack. “Damnit, I loved this coat,” he muttered.   After taking a slow, steadying breath, he put his staff away with a smooth, practiced motion. When he looked down again, he spotted the Archivist in the large archway between the hall and the bar.  She met his eyes and said softly, “thank you” before turning away.  

Another snap of his fingers and in the blink of an eye, he was standing on the floor.  The patrons looked at him with either awe or fear, but they all backed quickly away from him.  Most of them knew there was nothing more dangerous than a Hunter who had to abandon the chase.  He went straight to the bar and met the concerned gaze of bartender.  Without a word, the man set two small glasses of clear liquid on the bar and spoke in a low voice, “one to drink and one to clean the wound.”


“Thanks, Keve.  I think I may need them.”  He downed one of the shots with a shudder.  After a quick shake of his head, he turned to look for the woman he had saved, but she had disappeared as well.  “I’m going to need some answers too.”

Wow!  One Year has gone by since I updated this blog.   Time to change all that.  Writing is something I love, not only for myself but to share it with others.  I've completed two novels and have two more in various stages of completion.  I've done almost a novel's worth of writing for one of the D&D campaigns I recently played in.  And to top it off, I've written one of the longest Psych fanfic series in existence.  Even won an Award from Psychfic.com!

I love connecting with fans and hearing that people like what I do, but I lost sight of the main reason I do it: for Me!  So, I hope that you all enjoy what comes next, but no matter what, I'm going to keep at it!