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Showing posts with label Supernatural Smack Down. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Supernatural Smack Down. Show all posts
9.29.2011
9.28.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 5 Ethan vs. Gin
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 5 Ethan vs. Gin
Ethan vs. Gin
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
“Hey.” I rub at the back of my neck. “I’ve been sent here by my creator, J.A. Belfield. If you want the truth, I’m sick of the shit she keeps making me do but she gave me no choice. Besides, this beats the stupid questions off people she keeps insisting I answer. Maybe I’ll just make her life hell by refusing to talk when she needs me to.”
I smile at the thought before gathering myself and remembering why I’m here.
“Unless you’re a werewolf whose butt I’ve kicked into line, you’ve probably never heard of me—though thanks to my brother’s love life going global, I seem to be getting more attention from females just lately.”
I tilt my head, purse my lips.
“Not sure what to make of that yet.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug.
“Anyway, I’m Ethan—Ethan Holloway. Son of Alpha and oldest younger-generation member of the Holloway Pack. I’m also the pack muscle. If an outside werewolf strays onto our territory, I very nicely ask them to get lost. Should we accidently find ourselves in another pack’s territory, I convince them to let us pass through without incident. And when specialist interrogation tactics are required?” Palms raised, I shrug. “I’m your wolf.”
I pause, scratching at my scalp.
Telling humans my secrets doesn’t sit all that well with me, but J.A. will most likely kill me off, or something, if I don’t comply, so I loosen my lips that want to clamp shut and push on.
“My last kill was called Thomas Richards, or something. He was part of the pack that took my pack sister, Jem—my brother’s mate.”
At the reminder of the occurrence, a growl brews in my chest.
“They snatched her.”
From under our noses.
The vibrations beating against my sternum refuse to die down.
“Nobody messes with my family that way and gets away with it. Nobody. And only an idiot would expect to.”
I take a deep breath.
“Luckily, she escaped. So, at first chance, we snatched one of them in return. And I beat the bastard until he spewed their address so we could pay them back how they deserved. I busted his nose first. Broke an arm. Some ribs. Internal bleeding has to be watched for if you don’t want to send them to their knees before you have your answers. Too many thumps to the torso can do that—especially if each punch lands in the same spot. Pop-pop-pop.” My fist snaps out at an invisible body, three successive empty pummels in time with the sound effects before I catch myself and return my hand to my side. “I watched him with every hit. Watched his eyes cloud as he tried to block out the pain. Watched the blood spray from his lips. And I listened to every sound that passed his lips—his cries, his grunts, his groans—until he gave us what we needed.” My lips twitch into a smirk as my eyebrow quirks up. “Then I snapped his neck.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Personally, I’d have been happier letting him bleed out in the forest where the carnivores would have slowly gnawed him down to the bone. But Dad said we couldn’t afford the mess right then.” My smile evaporates as my hands fist. “Thomas got off light.”
I tilt my head a few times, left, right, left again, stretching out my neck.
“My first kill happened at the age of eighteen. I found myself across the border in another pack’s territory—with one of my pack brother’s to defend. Eighteen months past my initial change in a body I was still figuring out how to use. By the time I’d finished with the wolf who wanted to turn us in to his Alpha, I had a clear idea of my abilities. So did he. Served him right for calling Kyle and me ‘wet behind the ears’ and clouting me round the head for my ‘piss poor upbringing by a father who obviously hadn’t taught me there were limitations as to where I could go’. The shithead did not lay a second finger on me, that’s for damn sure.”
I pound a fist against my palm.
“Anyway … as to why I’m here: the pack made me come today because they reckon I’m too modest about my kills—they said I need to stand up and accept the glory for my achievements. Personally, I think they talk a load of rubbish—I do take credit for what I do. I just don’t shout my mouth off about it …” until now. “Though I’d have come anyway. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. That’s what I’m doing here. This is a contest. And I’m not used to losing. Ever. You understand me? Losing is not an option.”
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Fighting for the PJV - J.A. Belfield's Ethan Holloway
Ethan vs. Gin
Name: Ethan Holloway
Book Series: The Holloway Pack Stories
Job: The family owns a property development business. We all work together
Height: 6’5”
Weight: What? You want me to weigh myself? Damn, hang on … okay, 229lbs
Hair Color: Dark brown
Eye Color: Dark brown
From (Location): Wild Woodington, Herefordshire, UK
Significant Other: What d’you mean?
Signature Move: What d’you mean? I punch. It hurts.
Kill Highlights: Anyone who’s crossed my path who shouldn’t have and didn’t get the hint when I told them to take a hike
Enemies: Anyone who pisses me off
Favorite Pastime: Hunting
Other Facts: Dad and Connor are the patriarch’s of the pack. After them, I’m the oldest, which makes it my job to look out for everyone else. The biggest task is doing this without the others realising it. I like watching action films. I’m the best cook in the family. And it makes me smile every day that I got the bedroom overlooking the forest instead of Sean.
“Hey.” I rub at the back of my neck. “I’ve been sent here by my creator, J.A. Belfield. If you want the truth, I’m sick of the shit she keeps making me do but she gave me no choice. Besides, this beats the stupid questions off people she keeps insisting I answer. Maybe I’ll just make her life hell by refusing to talk when she needs me to.”
I smile at the thought before gathering myself and remembering why I’m here.
“Unless you’re a werewolf whose butt I’ve kicked into line, you’ve probably never heard of me—though thanks to my brother’s love life going global, I seem to be getting more attention from females just lately.”
I tilt my head, purse my lips.
“Not sure what to make of that yet.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug.
“Anyway, I’m Ethan—Ethan Holloway. Son of Alpha and oldest younger-generation member of the Holloway Pack. I’m also the pack muscle. If an outside werewolf strays onto our territory, I very nicely ask them to get lost. Should we accidently find ourselves in another pack’s territory, I convince them to let us pass through without incident. And when specialist interrogation tactics are required?” Palms raised, I shrug. “I’m your wolf.”
I pause, scratching at my scalp.
Telling humans my secrets doesn’t sit all that well with me, but J.A. will most likely kill me off, or something, if I don’t comply, so I loosen my lips that want to clamp shut and push on.
“My last kill was called Thomas Richards, or something. He was part of the pack that took my pack sister, Jem—my brother’s mate.”
At the reminder of the occurrence, a growl brews in my chest.
“They snatched her.”
From under our noses.
The vibrations beating against my sternum refuse to die down.
“Nobody messes with my family that way and gets away with it. Nobody. And only an idiot would expect to.”
I take a deep breath.
“Luckily, she escaped. So, at first chance, we snatched one of them in return. And I beat the bastard until he spewed their address so we could pay them back how they deserved. I busted his nose first. Broke an arm. Some ribs. Internal bleeding has to be watched for if you don’t want to send them to their knees before you have your answers. Too many thumps to the torso can do that—especially if each punch lands in the same spot. Pop-pop-pop.” My fist snaps out at an invisible body, three successive empty pummels in time with the sound effects before I catch myself and return my hand to my side. “I watched him with every hit. Watched his eyes cloud as he tried to block out the pain. Watched the blood spray from his lips. And I listened to every sound that passed his lips—his cries, his grunts, his groans—until he gave us what we needed.” My lips twitch into a smirk as my eyebrow quirks up. “Then I snapped his neck.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Personally, I’d have been happier letting him bleed out in the forest where the carnivores would have slowly gnawed him down to the bone. But Dad said we couldn’t afford the mess right then.” My smile evaporates as my hands fist. “Thomas got off light.”
I tilt my head a few times, left, right, left again, stretching out my neck.
“My first kill happened at the age of eighteen. I found myself across the border in another pack’s territory—with one of my pack brother’s to defend. Eighteen months past my initial change in a body I was still figuring out how to use. By the time I’d finished with the wolf who wanted to turn us in to his Alpha, I had a clear idea of my abilities. So did he. Served him right for calling Kyle and me ‘wet behind the ears’ and clouting me round the head for my ‘piss poor upbringing by a father who obviously hadn’t taught me there were limitations as to where I could go’. The shithead did not lay a second finger on me, that’s for damn sure.”
I pound a fist against my palm.
“Anyway … as to why I’m here: the pack made me come today because they reckon I’m too modest about my kills—they said I need to stand up and accept the glory for my achievements. Personally, I think they talk a load of rubbish—I do take credit for what I do. I just don’t shout my mouth off about it …” until now. “Though I’d have come anyway. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. That’s what I’m doing here. This is a contest. And I’m not used to losing. Ever. You understand me? Losing is not an option.”
Jem Stonehouse, a housewife with a neurotic husband bent on keeping her in line, dreams about werewolves in, what she believes, is a bid to escape boredom.
Sean Holloway is a werewolf, living a charade within the human race, whose mind drifts to a bond he shares with a woman he hasn't met--at least, not in this lifetime.
Apart, the two are safe but live unfulfilled lives.
Together, they'll become prey to rival packs just as they have been for hundreds of years.
When their worlds collide, and not for the first time, instinct takes over. Dreams become reality. Futures are uncertain. To keep history from repeating itself, Sean must teach Jem about his heritage, convince her of her role, and win her love.
Can Jem accept her destiny before it's too late, or is her inner wolf buried too deep to save her future with Sean?
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9.27.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 3 Heyou vs. Malkolm Bourreau
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 4 Heyou vs. Malkolm Bourreau
Heyou vs. Malkolm Bourreau
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
Heyou laughed, rubbing his hands together and grinning wickedly, a sparkle of utter delight in his eyes. He was a young man, just tall enough that he could tuck his lover’s head under his chin when he held her, his body slim and muscled, his face beautiful. His long, dark hair tumbled down his back, glossy as silk.
“Why did I enter the fight?” he asked. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a fight! I’m a battle sylph. That’s what we do. We fight. Well, it’s not all that we do, but fighting is surely the best part of it.” He paused, finger raised, thinking that over. “Nah, the sex is the best part, but there’s no competition for that.”
With a chuckle, he grabbed the poster that detailed the coming matches, more than a bit tattered from constant scrutiny and lack of care. “Anyway, fighting! A chance to show my skills! This is what I’ve been waiting for. Solie won’t let us fight nearly enough in the Valley. You could destroy everything, she says. She worries too much. It’s not like my aim’s that bad.
“Anyway…why do I think I’d be good for this?” He spread his hands. “Look at me. I’m a shape-shifting creature of immense power and skill.” He grinned, paused, and looked down at himself. Half a second later, the young man was gone and a floating cloud filled with lightning hovered in his place, as large across as an ox cart. He had roiling ball lighting for eyes and jagged lightning in his huge mouth. Shadowy wings spread out to either side of him. Another second passed and he was the young man again, settling in his chair.
His expression turned serious. “It’s just…I’m not the only battler out there. We have fifty in the Valley and almost every one of them is older and stronger than I am. Sure, I’m with the queen, but that’s because she loves me, not because I won her through strength or anything. That’s how it’s done back in the world I came from. Battlers fight to prove themselves and win the queen. Here, we don’t get much chance for fighting. The Valley is a peaceful place. I’ve been in fights before mind you; I saved Solie and everyone in the Valley when a lion battler broke into the place where they were hiding. It took everything I had to win against him, because he was a lot older than me and crazy as well. I got my claws into his back and rode him like a bronco and it was a bastard of a fight.” His eyes gleamed at the memory, gesturing with his hands in imitation of how the fight went.
“He slammed me into every wall he could, trying to scrape me off, screamed and yelled and hit me with a hate aura so strong I could taste it. He was so much stronger than I was, but I didn’t give up. I couldn’t. I hung in there and I didn’t surrender…and none of my brothers saw it.”
He frowned. “That’s what this match is for me. A chance to finally prove myself, to show that I have what it takes to win where people can see it. To see my enemy down on the ground and to know that I beat them, to have all my brothers see me beat him and have them know I didn’t just get lucky. Solie doesn’t care much for that idea, but it matters to me. It’s part of who I am, part of who all of us are. So here I am, and I’m ready to fight!
“Do I think I can win? Of course I can win. I’m a battle sylph, how can I lose?”
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Fighting for the PJV - LJ McDonald's Heyou
Heyou vs. Malkolm Bourreau
Name: Heyou
Book Series: The Sylph Series
Job: Battle Sylph. He protects and fights.
Height: variable. He’s a shape shifter
Weight: variable. He’s a shape shifter
Hair Color: Usually dark
Eye Color: Also usually dark
From (Location): Sylph Valley
Significant Other: Solie
Signature Move: He can throw explosive energy at his enemy.
Kill Highlights: Once fought another battle sylph much older than he is to protect his lover and friends.
Enemies: Anyone who would try to hurt Solie.
Favorite Pastime: Teasing his friends, making jokes.
Other Facts: Heyou is a young battle sylph, able to change his shape from a black cloud filled with lightning into any form he wants. He’s an empath who’s deeply in love with his master and queen, Solie. He’s a joker and likes to make light of any situation. He’s also utterly fearless and will do anything to protect the people he cares about. Heyou is also unique in that, while the majority of battlers despise men, he doesn’t. He has a lot of male friends and his master is a man.
Heyou laughed, rubbing his hands together and grinning wickedly, a sparkle of utter delight in his eyes. He was a young man, just tall enough that he could tuck his lover’s head under his chin when he held her, his body slim and muscled, his face beautiful. His long, dark hair tumbled down his back, glossy as silk.
“Why did I enter the fight?” he asked. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a fight! I’m a battle sylph. That’s what we do. We fight. Well, it’s not all that we do, but fighting is surely the best part of it.” He paused, finger raised, thinking that over. “Nah, the sex is the best part, but there’s no competition for that.”
With a chuckle, he grabbed the poster that detailed the coming matches, more than a bit tattered from constant scrutiny and lack of care. “Anyway, fighting! A chance to show my skills! This is what I’ve been waiting for. Solie won’t let us fight nearly enough in the Valley. You could destroy everything, she says. She worries too much. It’s not like my aim’s that bad.
“Anyway…why do I think I’d be good for this?” He spread his hands. “Look at me. I’m a shape-shifting creature of immense power and skill.” He grinned, paused, and looked down at himself. Half a second later, the young man was gone and a floating cloud filled with lightning hovered in his place, as large across as an ox cart. He had roiling ball lighting for eyes and jagged lightning in his huge mouth. Shadowy wings spread out to either side of him. Another second passed and he was the young man again, settling in his chair.
“I’m a shape-shifter of immense power and skill…” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, I am. That’s not bragging, is it?” He grinned again, laughing. “Maybe it is. Okay, I know it is. But I want to do this. I like to fight. I like the fun of it and I’m hoping I can find a real challenge. I’m solid right now, but I’m a creature of pure energy. I can throw that energy and blow things up or lash it around me like a whip. I can change into anything I want or form blades from my hands. I’m an empath so I can feel what my enemy does and I can make them cower from the hate I broadcast to them. You can’t bluff me. I am my weapon.”
His expression turned serious. “It’s just…I’m not the only battler out there. We have fifty in the Valley and almost every one of them is older and stronger than I am. Sure, I’m with the queen, but that’s because she loves me, not because I won her through strength or anything. That’s how it’s done back in the world I came from. Battlers fight to prove themselves and win the queen. Here, we don’t get much chance for fighting. The Valley is a peaceful place. I’ve been in fights before mind you; I saved Solie and everyone in the Valley when a lion battler broke into the place where they were hiding. It took everything I had to win against him, because he was a lot older than me and crazy as well. I got my claws into his back and rode him like a bronco and it was a bastard of a fight.” His eyes gleamed at the memory, gesturing with his hands in imitation of how the fight went.
“He slammed me into every wall he could, trying to scrape me off, screamed and yelled and hit me with a hate aura so strong I could taste it. He was so much stronger than I was, but I didn’t give up. I couldn’t. I hung in there and I didn’t surrender…and none of my brothers saw it.”
He frowned. “That’s what this match is for me. A chance to finally prove myself, to show that I have what it takes to win where people can see it. To see my enemy down on the ground and to know that I beat them, to have all my brothers see me beat him and have them know I didn’t just get lucky. Solie doesn’t care much for that idea, but it matters to me. It’s part of who I am, part of who all of us are. So here I am, and I’m ready to fight!
“Do I think I can win? Of course I can win. I’m a battle sylph, how can I lose?”
It was a dream come true. Solie had her own battler, a creature of almost infinite magic who could vaporize legions in the blink of an eye and would willingly suffer a thousand bloody deaths to protect her. She was his love. More simply, she was his queen.
Many others feel the same. The new-built settlement is a haven for all. Erected by sylphs of earth and fire, air and water, the Valley is Solie’s dominion. But, lovers without peer or killers without mercy, the very nature of their battler protectors means peril. It is not in any sylph’s nature to disobey, and while some are hers to command, others are the slaves of Solie’s enemies—the jealous, the cruel. Those who guard her must not fail. Their peasant-born ruler is not yet safe as…
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9.26.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 3 Ash vs. Adrian Mitchell
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 3 Ash vs. Adrian Mitchell
Ash vs. Adrian Mitchell
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
Who is Ash?
For today's Smackdown, I'm including my review of THE IRON KNIGHT, the fourth book in the series that is from Ash's POV.
Fighting for the PJV - Ash of the Iron Fey Series
Ash vs. Adrian Mitchell
Who is Ash?
For today's Smackdown, I'm including my review of THE IRON KNIGHT, the fourth book in the series that is from Ash's POV.
Genre: YA Fantasy
Series: The Iron Fey Series (Book 4)
Paranormal: Faeries
Pre-Order for October 25, 2011: Amazon.com
Stalk the Author: Web | Twitter | Blog
Review copy provided by netgalley.com
PJV QUICKIE POV:
Slow to start...but the end knocked my socks off.And here I sit pondering THE IRON KNIGHT by Julie Kagawa. What can I say? Can I gush {insert gush here} ? Can I rant {insert semi-ranting lunacy here} ? Or should I just lay it out? Lay it out. Decided. For starters this is a great series. If you are not familiar with Julie Kagawa and her faeries STOP NOW and go and read them. They have some small problems, but this is a wonderful series and highly recommended to lovers of young adult and paranormal. THE IRON KNIGHT is the fourth in the series, written as sort of a compendium to the trilogy that features Meghan Chase. THE IRON KNIGHT is from Prince Ash's perspective and is very different from the original trilogy which had its own draw. I loved it. I thought it was well written and Kagawa wrapped it up in the perfect package. I have to say, she has clawed her way up to the top of my list as one of the best young adult authors on this planet. Read the series. Fall in love with Prince Ash…it'll only sting for a few seconds.
Series: The Iron Fey Series (Book 4)
Paranormal: Faeries
Pre-Order for October 25, 2011: Amazon.com
Stalk the Author: Web | Twitter | Blog
Review copy provided by netgalley.com
PJV QUICKIE POV:
Slow to start...but the end knocked my socks off.And here I sit pondering THE IRON KNIGHT by Julie Kagawa. What can I say? Can I gush {insert gush here} ? Can I rant {insert semi-ranting lunacy here} ? Or should I just lay it out? Lay it out. Decided. For starters this is a great series. If you are not familiar with Julie Kagawa and her faeries STOP NOW and go and read them. They have some small problems, but this is a wonderful series and highly recommended to lovers of young adult and paranormal. THE IRON KNIGHT is the fourth in the series, written as sort of a compendium to the trilogy that features Meghan Chase. THE IRON KNIGHT is from Prince Ash's perspective and is very different from the original trilogy which had its own draw. I loved it. I thought it was well written and Kagawa wrapped it up in the perfect package. I have to say, she has clawed her way up to the top of my list as one of the best young adult authors on this planet. Read the series. Fall in love with Prince Ash…it'll only sting for a few seconds.
REVIEW:
Ash is on a journey. To survive the Iron Lands and keep ahold of his love, Meghan Chase, the Queen, he must become mortal. The fae, at least the normal fae cannot survive in the modern landscape of the Iron Lands. Yet, Meghan cannot leave, she is their Queen, without her the land will plunge into chaos and a leader might arise that will put all of Faerie in jeopardy. Ash must sacrifice his immortality and gain a soul or give up Meghan entirely.
Ash is on a journey. To survive the Iron Lands and keep ahold of his love, Meghan Chase, the Queen, he must become mortal. The fae, at least the normal fae cannot survive in the modern landscape of the Iron Lands. Yet, Meghan cannot leave, she is their Queen, without her the land will plunge into chaos and a leader might arise that will put all of Faerie in jeopardy. Ash must sacrifice his immortality and gain a soul or give up Meghan entirely.
There is talk of a gauntlet of sorts, at the end of the world. No one has ever returned - yet rumors say that this is where you can gain a soul. Determined Ash sets out for the End of the World, to his constant aggravation Puck decides to join him. Along with Grim and a few unexpected companions the group must make their way across lands that are wild and dangerous, to cross a river of dreams and enter a world that hasn't been seen by many who lived to tell the tale. All for love. All for his soul. There is no guarantee that he will survive, there isn't even a guarantee that Meghan will wait for him, but Ash knows it is the right thing to do.
I'll state from the get-go that this is a book that takes a little bit of effort to get into. Ash is on a journey, so much like the great and epic journeys of fantasy literature they do a lot of traveling from place to place, battle to battle. This is not for a lot of people - especially those that are used to a little bit of romance mixed into the plot. The first three novels had journeys but they also had the underlying tension between Meghan, Ash and Puck. Meghan is not on this journey. It is a tough beginning which I've heard a few people mention had them putting aside the book after the first fifty to give it time to steep (myself included). CARRY ON, push forward and do not let it faze you, because once this novel gets rolling there is no stopping it.
Throughout the pages I kept thinking, "how will she {Kagawa} do it?" "how can this possibly end well?". I had my doubts, I really did and one of those Kagawa even delved into. It was my doubt from the beginning when I knew he wanted his mortality. Would an immortal creature be happy as a mortal? It would be like a human suddenly losing their hearing or more subtly their taste or feeling. I feared for the ending of this book and was held in an anxiety induced prison until the final pages…but it was a perfect execution. Kagawa didn't hold anything back as per her usual style and what she put forth in THE IRON KNIGHT was better than I expected.
RECOMMENDATIONS:
Not to be read out of order, this book needs the prior books to make sense. Recommended for fans of this series and if you are a paranormal romance, young adult fan I would highly recommend reading book one.
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9.25.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 2 Jack Winter vs. Rylie Gresham
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 2 Jack Winter vs. Rylie Gresham
Jack Winter vs. Rylie Gresham
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
Name: Rylie Gresham
Book Series: Six Moon Summer and All Hallows' Moon (Seasons of the Moon series)
Job: Student, art lover, occasional ranch hand, werewolf
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 117 lbs (knobbly knees included)
Hair Color: White blonde
Eye Color: Reflective gold
From (Location): Used to be a city girl, now a country girl
Significant Other: Seth (hopefully)
Signature Move: Tearing out my prey's throat with my super sharp teeth.
Kill Highlights: A baby deer, some cattle, lots of goats. I also killed the werewolf who bit me by throwing him down a cliff.
Enemies: The werewolf inside of me is the worst. But werewolf hunters are lame too.
Favorite Pastime: Seeing movies at the two screen theater in town.
Other Facts: Until I got bitten, I was totally normal. Now I spend all my time struggling to keep myself from eating people, and two nights a month, I become this huge, sloberring monster thing. And I thought high school sucked before!
Let's get something straight right off the bat: I don't even wear leather. I'm all about designers, but when fur or dried animal flesh comes back into vogue, I'll wear a brown paper sack before putting THAT stuff on. (Or last year's fashions. Equally yuck.) And even though I love art, I avoided that exhibit with all the bone sculptures the whole two months it was at my favorite museum because it made me feel queasy.
So when I say I hate being a werewolf, I want you to know, I am so completely serious about it. Being stronger than the average weightlifter is cool, and the fact I can heal almost any injury in an instant -- as long as silver isn't involved -- is pretty cool too. But the lust for eating people? Definitely NOT cool.
On the other hand, I'm kind of a killing machine now. I would totally bet on me against anyone or anything. The werewolf who attacked me was, like, three times my size, and I still took him down completely on my own. And when I visited some friends in the city, these guys tried to mug us, and I almost ripped their throats out! So if I can take a bunch of crack heads and other huge werewolves, I can take whatever else I need to.
Someone told me that people lose their souls when they get bitten by a werewolf. Or maybe it's that the spirit of the wolf eats the spirit of the human, leaving us these brutal, hollow shells of a person. Is that true? I don't know. I feel totally weird, but I'm still myself.
Maybe it's the werewolf spirit winning, but I don't feel that bad about killing the guy who bit me. And the thought of killing people gets easier and easier as time goes on. If you think I'm going to roll over and die just because I'm only sixteen, or because I'd rather eat tofu than a hamburger, then I think you've got something else coming to you.
Don't push me unless you want to find out.
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Fighting for the PJV - SM Reine's Rylie
Jack Winter vs. Rylie Gresham
Book Series: Six Moon Summer and All Hallows' Moon (Seasons of the Moon series)
Job: Student, art lover, occasional ranch hand, werewolf
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 117 lbs (knobbly knees included)
Hair Color: White blonde
Eye Color: Reflective gold
From (Location): Used to be a city girl, now a country girl
Significant Other: Seth (hopefully)
Signature Move: Tearing out my prey's throat with my super sharp teeth.
Kill Highlights: A baby deer, some cattle, lots of goats. I also killed the werewolf who bit me by throwing him down a cliff.
Enemies: The werewolf inside of me is the worst. But werewolf hunters are lame too.
Favorite Pastime: Seeing movies at the two screen theater in town.
Other Facts: Until I got bitten, I was totally normal. Now I spend all my time struggling to keep myself from eating people, and two nights a month, I become this huge, sloberring monster thing. And I thought high school sucked before!
Let's get something straight right off the bat: I don't even wear leather. I'm all about designers, but when fur or dried animal flesh comes back into vogue, I'll wear a brown paper sack before putting THAT stuff on. (Or last year's fashions. Equally yuck.) And even though I love art, I avoided that exhibit with all the bone sculptures the whole two months it was at my favorite museum because it made me feel queasy.
So when I say I hate being a werewolf, I want you to know, I am so completely serious about it. Being stronger than the average weightlifter is cool, and the fact I can heal almost any injury in an instant -- as long as silver isn't involved -- is pretty cool too. But the lust for eating people? Definitely NOT cool.
On the other hand, I'm kind of a killing machine now. I would totally bet on me against anyone or anything. The werewolf who attacked me was, like, three times my size, and I still took him down completely on my own. And when I visited some friends in the city, these guys tried to mug us, and I almost ripped their throats out! So if I can take a bunch of crack heads and other huge werewolves, I can take whatever else I need to.
Someone told me that people lose their souls when they get bitten by a werewolf. Or maybe it's that the spirit of the wolf eats the spirit of the human, leaving us these brutal, hollow shells of a person. Is that true? I don't know. I feel totally weird, but I'm still myself.
Maybe it's the werewolf spirit winning, but I don't feel that bad about killing the guy who bit me. And the thought of killing people gets easier and easier as time goes on. If you think I'm going to roll over and die just because I'm only sixteen, or because I'd rather eat tofu than a hamburger, then I think you've got something else coming to you.
Don't push me unless you want to find out.
Rylie's been bitten.
She's changing.
And now she has three months to find a cure before becoming a werewolf... forever.
Rylie Gresham hates everything about summer camp: the food, the fresh air, the dumb activities, and the other girls in her cabin. But the worst part is probably being bitten by a werewolf. Being a teenager is hard enough, but now she's craving raw flesh and struggles with uncontrollable anger. If she doesn't figure out a way to stop the transformation, then at the end of summer, her life is worse than over. She'll be a monster.
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9.24.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 1 Elena vs. Rayne
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 4, Day 1 Elena vs. Rayne
Elena vs. Rayne
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
My name is Elena Manory. I’m sixteen years of age and a girl, but don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m a delicate flower that you can push around. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. Delicate though my appearance may be, I’ve taken to calling my apparent good looks as unsuspecting camouflage. My hazel eyes will stare you down, my long slim legs will kick your ass, and my soft feminine hands will have no problem snapping your neck. I have sass, a serious lack of respect for authority, and I almost never listen when told to back away from a fight. Sometimes to my detriment, but make no mistake, I always get back up!
While other kids my age are binge drinking, club hopping, and rubbing up against boys, I’m holed up at the IMI, otherwise known as the Institute of Magical Intervention, an organization run by The Protectors—humans dedicated to the practice of magic and defence against supernatural entities. Although I don’t possess any magic of my own, I train hard alongside my adopted family, spending hours perfecting all forms of martial arts and moulding my body into a finely honed fighting machine. When I’m not laying my opponents down on the mat, I work on my knife skills, learning how best to incapacitate my prey.
The funny thing is I don’t really need the knife. I may still be human until I turn eighteen and complete my transformation into a vampire, but I’ve been recently ‘upgraded’—some serious new skills assisting with my ability to kick butt. Blood transference has unlocked some latent abilities. Some I expected, and some I did not. To add icing on the supernatural cake, I’m also half vânător, known as werewolves to those of you that need a more relatable word.
The Vânătors in my world are vicious and deadly. You can kill them, but they don’t go down without a fight. I used to be disgusted that I shared their DNA, now I know that it gives me an edge. It also endows me with a pretty determined attitude and a nasty temper when pissed off, and believe me—you don’t want to make me angry. Not only can I knock you off your feet, I can also heal within seconds from any damage inflicted. I’m strong, and I’m pretty damn happy to drink your blood if you’re offering, so watch what you say to the half breed, I just may bite!
Basically I’m here because I need a new challenge. I was recently kidnapped by a shape-shifting alpha vânător named John. He held me captive for over two days, draining me dry and threatening me with violence. I was scared. I’m not going to lie. I’m still human and I still fear the things that go bump in the night like hungry wolves with razor sharp teeth. But I saw the death of an innocent and something inside of me changed. I swallowed the fear that makes others want to pee their pants and loaded my proverbial guns with ammo. I exacted escape and proceeded to seek revenge on John’s pack by killing them with my bare hands.
It used to bother me how easily I could kill, to feel someone’s flesh give beneath my touch or hear the audible crunch of their bones as I snapped their neck. I’m either numb or simply indifferent, accepting death as a necessity when there are those that seek to bring harm to me or to those that I love. That’s why you should back me to win the Supernatural Smackdown. If nothing else, I fight for survival, to protect the innocent, and keep my loved ones safe.
About the Author:
Born in Perth, Western Australia in 1982, Kristy Berridge was ushered into the world in a decade of bad hair, parachute pants, and blue eye shadow. Fortunately, she managed to avoid all three influences by immersing herself in the business of growing up, and hitched a ride with her fun-loving, and adventure-filled parents to the sunny state of Queensland. Here she completed most of her education.
Besides learning that boys don't have cooties, and that algebra wouldn't kill her, she pointedly set the path of her high school career towards success in Art and English-based subjects, and won numerous awards for her efforts.
After high school she went on to study Graphic Design and Illustration at James Cook University, and then furthered her studies at the local TAFE college with an Interior Design course. With this knowledge under her belt, she also decided to undertake a three year Design course at Rhodec International in London, to complete her education and propel her towards the successful career she now enjoys.
She currently resides in Cairns with her husband Navaro, who is her biggest support and a constant source of motivation to finish the next novel...
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Fighting for the PJV - Kristy Berridg's Elena
Elena vs. Rayne
Name: Elena Manory
Book Series: The Hunted
Job: Student and inevitable troublemaker
Height: 170cm
Weight: 59kg
Hair Colour: Chocolate Brown
Eye Colour: Hazel, a kaleidoscope of topaz and forest green
From: Born on the Island of Corsica, but raised and lives in Cairns, Australia
Significant Other: Just having a bit of fun with William Granville, English vampire and ex-member of the Roman Guard.
Signature Move: Roundhouse kicks to the head
Kill Highlights: The bastards don’t get back up again. That’s always a highlight for me.
Enemies: Where do I start? Ask me who my allies are, it’s a much shorter list.
Favourite Pastime: Reading Wheels Magazine and driving high end cars and motorbikes. Basically being around anything with wheels is a highlight for me.
Other Facts: I just might be a comic genius and I’d seriously lay my life down for my adopted brother Lucas—he means everything to me.
Book Series: The Hunted
Job: Student and inevitable troublemaker
Height: 170cm
Weight: 59kg
Hair Colour: Chocolate Brown
Eye Colour: Hazel, a kaleidoscope of topaz and forest green
From: Born on the Island of Corsica, but raised and lives in Cairns, Australia
Significant Other: Just having a bit of fun with William Granville, English vampire and ex-member of the Roman Guard.
Signature Move: Roundhouse kicks to the head
Kill Highlights: The bastards don’t get back up again. That’s always a highlight for me.
Enemies: Where do I start? Ask me who my allies are, it’s a much shorter list.
Favourite Pastime: Reading Wheels Magazine and driving high end cars and motorbikes. Basically being around anything with wheels is a highlight for me.
Other Facts: I just might be a comic genius and I’d seriously lay my life down for my adopted brother Lucas—he means everything to me.
My name is Elena Manory. I’m sixteen years of age and a girl, but don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m a delicate flower that you can push around. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. Delicate though my appearance may be, I’ve taken to calling my apparent good looks as unsuspecting camouflage. My hazel eyes will stare you down, my long slim legs will kick your ass, and my soft feminine hands will have no problem snapping your neck. I have sass, a serious lack of respect for authority, and I almost never listen when told to back away from a fight. Sometimes to my detriment, but make no mistake, I always get back up!
While other kids my age are binge drinking, club hopping, and rubbing up against boys, I’m holed up at the IMI, otherwise known as the Institute of Magical Intervention, an organization run by The Protectors—humans dedicated to the practice of magic and defence against supernatural entities. Although I don’t possess any magic of my own, I train hard alongside my adopted family, spending hours perfecting all forms of martial arts and moulding my body into a finely honed fighting machine. When I’m not laying my opponents down on the mat, I work on my knife skills, learning how best to incapacitate my prey.
The funny thing is I don’t really need the knife. I may still be human until I turn eighteen and complete my transformation into a vampire, but I’ve been recently ‘upgraded’—some serious new skills assisting with my ability to kick butt. Blood transference has unlocked some latent abilities. Some I expected, and some I did not. To add icing on the supernatural cake, I’m also half vânător, known as werewolves to those of you that need a more relatable word.
The Vânătors in my world are vicious and deadly. You can kill them, but they don’t go down without a fight. I used to be disgusted that I shared their DNA, now I know that it gives me an edge. It also endows me with a pretty determined attitude and a nasty temper when pissed off, and believe me—you don’t want to make me angry. Not only can I knock you off your feet, I can also heal within seconds from any damage inflicted. I’m strong, and I’m pretty damn happy to drink your blood if you’re offering, so watch what you say to the half breed, I just may bite!
Basically I’m here because I need a new challenge. I was recently kidnapped by a shape-shifting alpha vânător named John. He held me captive for over two days, draining me dry and threatening me with violence. I was scared. I’m not going to lie. I’m still human and I still fear the things that go bump in the night like hungry wolves with razor sharp teeth. But I saw the death of an innocent and something inside of me changed. I swallowed the fear that makes others want to pee their pants and loaded my proverbial guns with ammo. I exacted escape and proceeded to seek revenge on John’s pack by killing them with my bare hands.
It used to bother me how easily I could kill, to feel someone’s flesh give beneath my touch or hear the audible crunch of their bones as I snapped their neck. I’m either numb or simply indifferent, accepting death as a necessity when there are those that seek to bring harm to me or to those that I love. That’s why you should back me to win the Supernatural Smackdown. If nothing else, I fight for survival, to protect the innocent, and keep my loved ones safe.
Elena Manory is by no means an ordinary teenage girl. Being born with the ability to heal herself from any injury, and with the knowledge that on her eighteenth birthday she will become a vampire, Elena is aware that she is more than a little different from other girls her age. It isn’t until she meets William Granville, an alluring and impossibly handsome vampire, that she begins to question her destiny and what secrets the Institute of Magical Intervention and her adopted family have withheld—secrets that could change the fates of not only her own life, but of the lives of all the immortals. As events spiral out of control, William may be the only person Elena can place her trust in. He, and Elena’s magical family, must fight to save her, joining forces to defeat a common, deadly foe. For William, it is his chance to save the girl that he has searched eternity to find. The heroine in this highly-imaginative Aussie-based tale is a vampire—but she is something more. This is a fast-paced, intelligent and highly-entertaining novel … The final chapters are climatic, desperate, chilling. For a first novel, Berridge ticks all the boxes. She has the makings of a career author. To attempt what is now a well-worn theme and produce something fresh, vital and entertaining is the mark of an enterprising and crafted writer. —Wendy O’Hanlon, Acres Australia This is a debut novel from a bright and bubbly young author. It is entertaining, quirky and has some wry touches of humour … an adventurous lightly romantic read that will appeal to teenagers and other devotees of the vampire horror genre. —John Morrow’s Pick of the Week
About the Author:
Besides learning that boys don't have cooties, and that algebra wouldn't kill her, she pointedly set the path of her high school career towards success in Art and English-based subjects, and won numerous awards for her efforts.
After high school she went on to study Graphic Design and Illustration at James Cook University, and then furthered her studies at the local TAFE college with an Interior Design course. With this knowledge under her belt, she also decided to undertake a three year Design course at Rhodec International in London, to complete her education and propel her towards the successful career she now enjoys.
She currently resides in Cairns with her husband Navaro, who is her biggest support and a constant source of motivation to finish the next novel...
Having fun? Spread the word.
9.23.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 7 Kalevi Hakala vs. McKenzie Lewis
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 6 Sin vs. Brock
Kalevi Hakala vs. McKenzie Lewis
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
Name: Kalevi Hakala
PJV gives a warm welcome to, Kalevi Hakala
I guess it’s time to say hello. If you don’t know who I am, it’s because the government doesn’t want you to and that’s a lot safer for you, believe me. However, since the first BSI (Bureau of Supernatural Investigations) file has been made public, the point is moot.
As the name suggests, we at the Bureau investigate Supernatural incidents throughout the United States. My name is Kalevi Hakala, an agent with the Bureau, trained to hunt down and eliminate Supernatural threats by virtually any means necessary. If you’ve read my first file (Things to do in Denver when you’re Un-dead), then you know I’m pretty damn good at my job. Every agent is, but I’ve been there the longest. In a profession where the average life span of an agent is almost three years, I’ve been doing it for ten. I’m the best there is.
Oh, I know what you’re saying: ‘How can he possibly survive a Supernatural Smackdown’. Right? There are several reasons, the first of which is all agents receive SEAL training at Coronado, which, of course, makes us bad ass like you can only dream about. Another reason is we never stop training. Day in, day out, we live, eat, crap and breathe training because not training will see us go down faster than two-dollar hooker. Others might be in good shape as well, but for us it’s a full-time job. All agents are masters of conventional firearms (as well as a few unconventional ones), knives, ancient weapons, and Krav Maga (the most brutal martial art in the world), along with Ju-Jitsu and anything else that will help us kill Supernaturals. That good enough for you?
Oh, you want more. Okay, I can handle that. How about: Great guns, great tech, magical support, magical Bouncing Betty land mines, incredibly efficient body armor, spell absorption gear, nightvision contact lenses, silver bullets, wooden bullets, exploding bullets, armor piercing bullets, magic rings, amulets and equipment, acid bombs and devastating spell gems. Supernaturals are so dangerous, so devastating, that we are trained and equipped better than any other fighting force in the world, bar none. When it comes to new ways to kill, new technology, we have it first.
More fun than humans should be allowed to have.
What makes me, personally so special? Good question. I think it has to do with my early exposure to the Supernatural World (what we in the Bureau call The World Under). When I was fifteen I survived an encounter with what is called a Class Five Supernatural, a Being of Mythic or God-like proportions. It’s name was Iku-Turso and it was the inspiration for Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos. Encountering the damn thing shattered my mind, but something…strange happened. I remained sane (barely) and developed an ability, one that makes me the baddest of the bad-asses.
The Rage.
Cool, huh? I don’t know how to describe it except as a controlled fury that allows me to consciously tap into my adrenal glands and produce feats of phenomenal strength and speed. One of my most memorable moments was a hand-to-hand combat with a vampire, something no agent has survived. Except me. While in my rage, the vamp and I were locked in crushing embrace, its fingers digging into my titanium body armor, and I began to pound its pointy-head into a steel railing, my hands gripping its skull by its nasty white hair. By the time the fight was over, I’d ripped the vamps head clean off and spat down its neck.
That rage allows me to stand toe-to-toe with nearly every monster that exists, and my equipment allows me to really rip them a new one. That and my 14” bowie knife.
Why do I want to join this Smackdown? What will I get out to it?
I get to kill Supernaturals, don’t I? ‘Nuff said.
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Fighting for the PJV - Mark Stone's Kalevi Hakala
Kalevi Hakala vs. McKenzie Lewis
Book Series: Things to Do in Denver When You're Un-Dead
Job: Special Agent
Height: 6’ 4”
Weight: 210lbs
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
From: Grand Rapids MN
Significant Other: None
Signature Move: Ripping opponents head off
Kill Highlights: Destroying a nest of vampires and killing supercharged ghouls
Enemies: Any Supernatural who threatens humankind
Favorite pastime: Killing Supernaturals.
Height: 6’ 4”
Weight: 210lbs
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
From: Grand Rapids MN
Significant Other: None
Signature Move: Ripping opponents head off
Kill Highlights: Destroying a nest of vampires and killing supercharged ghouls
Enemies: Any Supernatural who threatens humankind
Favorite pastime: Killing Supernaturals.
PJV gives a warm welcome to, Kalevi Hakala
I guess it’s time to say hello. If you don’t know who I am, it’s because the government doesn’t want you to and that’s a lot safer for you, believe me. However, since the first BSI (Bureau of Supernatural Investigations) file has been made public, the point is moot.
As the name suggests, we at the Bureau investigate Supernatural incidents throughout the United States. My name is Kalevi Hakala, an agent with the Bureau, trained to hunt down and eliminate Supernatural threats by virtually any means necessary. If you’ve read my first file (Things to do in Denver when you’re Un-dead), then you know I’m pretty damn good at my job. Every agent is, but I’ve been there the longest. In a profession where the average life span of an agent is almost three years, I’ve been doing it for ten. I’m the best there is.
Oh, I know what you’re saying: ‘How can he possibly survive a Supernatural Smackdown’. Right? There are several reasons, the first of which is all agents receive SEAL training at Coronado, which, of course, makes us bad ass like you can only dream about. Another reason is we never stop training. Day in, day out, we live, eat, crap and breathe training because not training will see us go down faster than two-dollar hooker. Others might be in good shape as well, but for us it’s a full-time job. All agents are masters of conventional firearms (as well as a few unconventional ones), knives, ancient weapons, and Krav Maga (the most brutal martial art in the world), along with Ju-Jitsu and anything else that will help us kill Supernaturals. That good enough for you?
Oh, you want more. Okay, I can handle that. How about: Great guns, great tech, magical support, magical Bouncing Betty land mines, incredibly efficient body armor, spell absorption gear, nightvision contact lenses, silver bullets, wooden bullets, exploding bullets, armor piercing bullets, magic rings, amulets and equipment, acid bombs and devastating spell gems. Supernaturals are so dangerous, so devastating, that we are trained and equipped better than any other fighting force in the world, bar none. When it comes to new ways to kill, new technology, we have it first.
More fun than humans should be allowed to have.
What makes me, personally so special? Good question. I think it has to do with my early exposure to the Supernatural World (what we in the Bureau call The World Under). When I was fifteen I survived an encounter with what is called a Class Five Supernatural, a Being of Mythic or God-like proportions. It’s name was Iku-Turso and it was the inspiration for Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos. Encountering the damn thing shattered my mind, but something…strange happened. I remained sane (barely) and developed an ability, one that makes me the baddest of the bad-asses.
The Rage.
Cool, huh? I don’t know how to describe it except as a controlled fury that allows me to consciously tap into my adrenal glands and produce feats of phenomenal strength and speed. One of my most memorable moments was a hand-to-hand combat with a vampire, something no agent has survived. Except me. While in my rage, the vamp and I were locked in crushing embrace, its fingers digging into my titanium body armor, and I began to pound its pointy-head into a steel railing, my hands gripping its skull by its nasty white hair. By the time the fight was over, I’d ripped the vamps head clean off and spat down its neck.
That rage allows me to stand toe-to-toe with nearly every monster that exists, and my equipment allows me to really rip them a new one. That and my 14” bowie knife.
Why do I want to join this Smackdown? What will I get out to it?
I get to kill Supernaturals, don’t I? ‘Nuff said.
For ten years Kal Hakala has been the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation's top man, the longest surviving agent in its blood-soaked history. The World At Large has no idea that The World Under exists. And its vampires, demons, zombies, and mythic monsters are growing increasingly restless. In all Kal's time with the Bureau, there has been no case he couldn't crack, no monster he couldn't kill. Then a plague of zombies comes to Denver, along with a vicious serial killer dubbed The Organ Donor. A childhood encounter with a legendary monster has left Kal with an endless supply of rage and hatred for all things Supernatural. But now the target is on his forehead, and the Un-Dead don't die easy. The Bureau has a few aces of its own-a few magicians, a cyber-ghost. Unfortunately Kal is a perennial loner ... And the World Under is wise to his tricks.
Win a digital copy of
Things to Do in Denver When You're Un-Dead
by Mark Everett Stone International Giveaway! Comment to win...what did you think of Kal?
Don't forget to leave your email address and read over the PJV giveaway policy under the about section!
Things to Do in Denver When You're Un-Dead
by Mark Everett Stone International Giveaway! Comment to win...what did you think of Kal?
Don't forget to leave your email address and read over the PJV giveaway policy under the about section!
Having fun? Spread the word.
9.22.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 6 Sin vs. Brock
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 6 Sin vs. Brock
Sin vs. Brock
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
First, a confession: Engaging in a smackdown is entirely averse to my nature. For as I see it, I have no competition. I am simply unlike any monster you’ve ever encountered—in literature, in reality, or in your most sheet-twisting, lust-driven dreams. Although I wasn’t always so bad. Indeed, I came to manhood with a high sense of honor, and might have achieved much good had I lived.
Had I lived…
But I did not live…
And now I damn that I was ever born.
I am Sinclair Youngblood Powers, dead at age eighteen, the Year Our Lord 1769, the Colony of Connecticut, the town of Swoon.
A small town, a simple town, a seething, spiteful, treacherous town.
Where I, a half-breed bastard driven from my home, arrived to ply the farrier’s trade. Only it wasn’t my talent at the forge that earned my legend in Swoon; it was my prowess in pleasure. Admittedly, I own a certain surface allure—strapping physique and whorls of black hair, onyx eyes and a cocksure smile. But beyond my swain’s appearance lies a gift of uncanny sensitivity, and the skills to employ it. A woman looks at me and she knows that I know—her wants, her needs, often unuttered but relentless as the pull of the moon upon the tides. And so they came, under cover of darkness and cover of cloak, in secret and in stealth, compelled by desire—the women of Swoon. They came because I knew…
Knowledge that proved fatal. Knowledge that led to my being hung from a tree in the Swoon village green. Knowledge that lay in wait to be reborn and wreak havoc. And so it was, centuries later, that my spirit seized the opportunity to possess an innocent, and the knowledge of wants and needs—that sensitivity, those skills—came perversely into play again.
For my second existence in Swoon, CT. For my rampage of revenge against the offspring of my persecutors. Then, transmogrified from ghost to golem—back to flesh and fueled by a kind of madness—I brought the town to its knees, exposing its gentry for all the malice and corruption in their hypocritical hearts.
Is it any wonder I was known simply Sin?
The fiend who took one beautiful girl as my instrument of retribution and another as my access to power, unearthly power beyond anything I could conceive as a mortal man.
The only power greater? Love. Love, love, damn it all, love. Demon or not, I did love. Worthy or not, I received love. Yet ruthlessly I twisted it. Coerced the one who held my heart. Defied her. Betrayed her.
So what made me imagine that in the end, after all the evil I had wrought, I’d be allowed to bask in the redemption of her wit, her warmth, her grace…her everything?
That honor was mine, for a single night.
Then—now—oblivion! Exile! Torment! A brutal abyss, a cruel prison of my own inadvertent creation.
Crueler, my lady aches for me still. The bruise of our love imprints her skin as tender as the moment I put it there. Much as she tries to move forward, she cannot or will not forget me.
Which brings me here—to this smackdown. Competition is anathema to me, but I’m grateful to Parajunkee’s View for offering a venue to make my story known. To make my promise known, to write my vow in cyber-stone: Here and now, by God and the devil, I swear to return to the one I love. To find her, fight for her if necessary and claim her, forever and eternity—or simply one more night…
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Fighting for the PJV - Nina Malkin's Sin
Sin vs. Brock
Name: Sinclair Youngblood Powers, AKA Sin
Book Series: SWOON (SWEAR, the sequel to SWOON, out October 18)
Job: Farrier (AKA blacksmith)
Height: 6’ 1”
Weight: Indeterminable at present.
Mortal, ghost, golem—each differs in terms of mass and in all honesty I’m not sure what I am now!
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black
Hailing from: Swoon, Connecticut
Significant Other: Candice Reagan Moskow, AKA Dice
Signature Move: Igniting desire, and then fulfilling it
Enemies: Hypocrites
Favorite Pastime: Seduction
First, a confession: Engaging in a smackdown is entirely averse to my nature. For as I see it, I have no competition. I am simply unlike any monster you’ve ever encountered—in literature, in reality, or in your most sheet-twisting, lust-driven dreams. Although I wasn’t always so bad. Indeed, I came to manhood with a high sense of honor, and might have achieved much good had I lived.
Had I lived…
But I did not live…
And now I damn that I was ever born.
I am Sinclair Youngblood Powers, dead at age eighteen, the Year Our Lord 1769, the Colony of Connecticut, the town of Swoon.
A small town, a simple town, a seething, spiteful, treacherous town.
Where I, a half-breed bastard driven from my home, arrived to ply the farrier’s trade. Only it wasn’t my talent at the forge that earned my legend in Swoon; it was my prowess in pleasure. Admittedly, I own a certain surface allure—strapping physique and whorls of black hair, onyx eyes and a cocksure smile. But beyond my swain’s appearance lies a gift of uncanny sensitivity, and the skills to employ it. A woman looks at me and she knows that I know—her wants, her needs, often unuttered but relentless as the pull of the moon upon the tides. And so they came, under cover of darkness and cover of cloak, in secret and in stealth, compelled by desire—the women of Swoon. They came because I knew…
Knowledge that proved fatal. Knowledge that led to my being hung from a tree in the Swoon village green. Knowledge that lay in wait to be reborn and wreak havoc. And so it was, centuries later, that my spirit seized the opportunity to possess an innocent, and the knowledge of wants and needs—that sensitivity, those skills—came perversely into play again.
For my second existence in Swoon, CT. For my rampage of revenge against the offspring of my persecutors. Then, transmogrified from ghost to golem—back to flesh and fueled by a kind of madness—I brought the town to its knees, exposing its gentry for all the malice and corruption in their hypocritical hearts.
Is it any wonder I was known simply Sin?
The fiend who took one beautiful girl as my instrument of retribution and another as my access to power, unearthly power beyond anything I could conceive as a mortal man.
The only power greater? Love. Love, love, damn it all, love. Demon or not, I did love. Worthy or not, I received love. Yet ruthlessly I twisted it. Coerced the one who held my heart. Defied her. Betrayed her.
So what made me imagine that in the end, after all the evil I had wrought, I’d be allowed to bask in the redemption of her wit, her warmth, her grace…her everything?
That honor was mine, for a single night.
Then—now—oblivion! Exile! Torment! A brutal abyss, a cruel prison of my own inadvertent creation.
Crueler, my lady aches for me still. The bruise of our love imprints her skin as tender as the moment I put it there. Much as she tries to move forward, she cannot or will not forget me.
Which brings me here—to this smackdown. Competition is anathema to me, but I’m grateful to Parajunkee’s View for offering a venue to make my story known. To make my promise known, to write my vow in cyber-stone: Here and now, by God and the devil, I swear to return to the one I love. To find her, fight for her if necessary and claim her, forever and eternity—or simply one more night…
A promise broken. A bond betrayed. It’s been six months since ghost-turned golem Sinclair Youngblood Powers confessed his love, stole Dice’s heart, and disappeared from Swoon, perhaps from existence. Despite the hurt, Dice has been moving steadily toward ordinary. Dreams of Sin still plague and pleasure her sleep, and the mark of Sin’s love remains on her skin, still sore. But Dice has been throwing herself into music, finding solace in song and sometimes even in the arms of her band mate, Tosh. Life seems almost…normal. The last thing Dice wants is to mess with anything remotely supernatural. But when her best friend’s boyfriend goes missing, Dice has no choice but to become very much involved. She knows that his disappearance was no accident, and it somehow has everything to do with Sin. Because Dice can feel it: Sin is back. And the promises and deceptions he left in his wake have returned to haunt him.
What do you do when an oath of devotion threatens to destroy the one you love?
Win SWEAR from Nina Malkin.
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Domestic shipping (US) only. Comment to win...what did you think of Sin?
Don't forget to leave your email address and read over the PJV giveaway policy under the about section!
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9.21.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 5 Cleo vs. Brynna Malak
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 5 Cleo vs. Brynna Malak
Cleo vs. Brynna Malak
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
My name is Cleo Vorenus, and I kill bad guys. It’s as simple as that. I suppose you’re wondering, “bad guys,” what the fuck does she mean by that? It means I take out the bastardi who prey on the innocent when the justice system fails. The Mafia, child molesters, drug dealers, murderers…you name it, if they’re guilty, I execute them. It’s what I do. It’s what my people have done for centuries. We weren’t always like this. The Praetorians, who are telepathic, forced us into this lifestyle when they cast us out of the Guard and made us outlaws. We didn’t have much choice when it came to our survival, so we became skilled assassins.
But honor is everything to the Sicari, and we always ask the Rogare Donavi of our targets. Forgiveness. Seems odd doesn’t it? Odd that before we execute someone who’s committed heinous crimes that we ask their forgiveness. What the hell kind of crack was someone doing when they decided to implement that particular little ritual? Truth be told, I only object to doing it when I’m dealing with scum like Tito Angotti. The sorry fuck had one of his apartment buildings burnt down, and five innocent kids died. The youngest one… Isabella…she was just six-months old, and that son of a bitch deserved to die. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy that kill, but satisfaction…fuck yeah. It felt right making that bastardo pay for what he did.
If you know anything about the Sicari or my friends, you know most of us have telekinetic powers. Strike that. I’m the only Sicari I know of who doesn’t have a unique ability. What I do have are looks. The kind that makes men look twice. Fucking ridiculous isn’t it. No telekinetic or intuitive abilities at all, but I can make jaws sag whenever I enter a room. But I’d give up my looks in a heartbeat just to be a real Sicari.
I guess you’re wondering why I even bothered to throw myself into this crowded field of paranormal heroes and heroines if I don’t have any special abilities. After all, I’m not immortal and could easily die. Well, I’m nothing, if not stubborn. I can’t think of any better way to prove my worth as a Sicari than to kick some ass here. You might think I’m helpless against all these other bastardi in this event, but that doesn’t surprise me you’d think that way. Most men tend to look at my face first, the rack second, which is annoying as hell. When everyone else looks at me, all they see is a beautiful face. That’s my advantage. I look harmless, but that’s why I’m so dangerous.
My looks make people lower their guard around me. Then, before they know what’s happening, I strike. One of the most useful tools in my fighting arsenal is the death touch. It’s where I land a hard, quick blow at a certain pressure point on the neck. In less than two seconds, my target is dropping to the floor like a sack of flour. It’s easy to revive them with a few smacks to the back and stimulating their nervous system. It’s an effective way to get information too. In fact, I used the death touch on Angotti, and he squealed like the pig he is before I made him pay his debt to society.
The scum the Sicari execute deserve what they get. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not easy to kill someone. I’d be inhuman if it didn’t bother me, but I also know that the innocent need someone to speak for them, and I do that. Especially the children. Fuck. I can’t believe someone would hurt a child. Can you? I mean what’s wrong with people that they’d harm an innocent. I’m more sensitive about it than most, because I can’t have any kids. I lost my unborn child when a Praetorian bastardo slit me open. The son of a bitch left me barren too. Goddamnit, stop giving me that look of sympathy will you. I don’t want or need sympathy. I’m just letting you know why most of the bad guys I go after have done something to hurt kids. Their small voices demand justice, and I’m the one who gets it for them.
Now you know me a little better, and why I believe I can rumble with the rest of the crowd in here. I might not be immortal, and I might not have any special abilities, but what’s that in the overall scheme of things. If I can take out several Praetorians all by myself, I can’t say I’m too worried about my chances in here. So while everyone else in here struts around like they’re the biggest badass in the room, I’m going to sit in this chair over here with a glass of wine and my one guilty pleasure, a romance book. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you should step into the ring with me too.
Read the first three chapters of Inferno’s Kiss
An award-winning author of erotic romance, Monica Burns penned her first short romance story at the age of nine when she selected the pseudonym she uses today. From the days when she hid her stories from her sisters to her first completed full-length manuscript, she always believed in her dream despite rejections and setbacks. A workaholic wife and mother, Monica believes it’s possible for the good guy to win if they work hard enough.
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Fighting for the PJV - Erin Kellison's Shadowman
Cleo vs. Brynna Malak
Name: Cleo Vorenus
Book Series: Order of the Sicari Novels
Book Series: Order of the Sicari Novels
Job: Assassin
Height: About 5’10”
Weight: Haven’t checked lately, but if I count wolf whistles I guess I’m just right
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Violet
From (Location): Chicago, IL; but based in Rome, Italy
Significant Other: Dante Condellaire
Signature Move: I have many, but I love the death touch the most.
Kill Highlights: I’ve killed more than I like to count. I don’t do it for pleasure
Enemies: Praetorians
Favorite Pastime: Reading a romance novel, you got a fucking problem with that?
Skills: None. No wait, I didn’t have any until I met Dante, but I’m still limited. I’m also mortal as opposed to immortal like a lot of contestants here.
My name is Cleo Vorenus, and I kill bad guys. It’s as simple as that. I suppose you’re wondering, “bad guys,” what the fuck does she mean by that? It means I take out the bastardi who prey on the innocent when the justice system fails. The Mafia, child molesters, drug dealers, murderers…you name it, if they’re guilty, I execute them. It’s what I do. It’s what my people have done for centuries. We weren’t always like this. The Praetorians, who are telepathic, forced us into this lifestyle when they cast us out of the Guard and made us outlaws. We didn’t have much choice when it came to our survival, so we became skilled assassins.
But honor is everything to the Sicari, and we always ask the Rogare Donavi of our targets. Forgiveness. Seems odd doesn’t it? Odd that before we execute someone who’s committed heinous crimes that we ask their forgiveness. What the hell kind of crack was someone doing when they decided to implement that particular little ritual? Truth be told, I only object to doing it when I’m dealing with scum like Tito Angotti. The sorry fuck had one of his apartment buildings burnt down, and five innocent kids died. The youngest one… Isabella…she was just six-months old, and that son of a bitch deserved to die. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy that kill, but satisfaction…fuck yeah. It felt right making that bastardo pay for what he did.
If you know anything about the Sicari or my friends, you know most of us have telekinetic powers. Strike that. I’m the only Sicari I know of who doesn’t have a unique ability. What I do have are looks. The kind that makes men look twice. Fucking ridiculous isn’t it. No telekinetic or intuitive abilities at all, but I can make jaws sag whenever I enter a room. But I’d give up my looks in a heartbeat just to be a real Sicari.
I guess you’re wondering why I even bothered to throw myself into this crowded field of paranormal heroes and heroines if I don’t have any special abilities. After all, I’m not immortal and could easily die. Well, I’m nothing, if not stubborn. I can’t think of any better way to prove my worth as a Sicari than to kick some ass here. You might think I’m helpless against all these other bastardi in this event, but that doesn’t surprise me you’d think that way. Most men tend to look at my face first, the rack second, which is annoying as hell. When everyone else looks at me, all they see is a beautiful face. That’s my advantage. I look harmless, but that’s why I’m so dangerous.
My looks make people lower their guard around me. Then, before they know what’s happening, I strike. One of the most useful tools in my fighting arsenal is the death touch. It’s where I land a hard, quick blow at a certain pressure point on the neck. In less than two seconds, my target is dropping to the floor like a sack of flour. It’s easy to revive them with a few smacks to the back and stimulating their nervous system. It’s an effective way to get information too. In fact, I used the death touch on Angotti, and he squealed like the pig he is before I made him pay his debt to society.
The scum the Sicari execute deserve what they get. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not easy to kill someone. I’d be inhuman if it didn’t bother me, but I also know that the innocent need someone to speak for them, and I do that. Especially the children. Fuck. I can’t believe someone would hurt a child. Can you? I mean what’s wrong with people that they’d harm an innocent. I’m more sensitive about it than most, because I can’t have any kids. I lost my unborn child when a Praetorian bastardo slit me open. The son of a bitch left me barren too. Goddamnit, stop giving me that look of sympathy will you. I don’t want or need sympathy. I’m just letting you know why most of the bad guys I go after have done something to hurt kids. Their small voices demand justice, and I’m the one who gets it for them.
Now you know me a little better, and why I believe I can rumble with the rest of the crowd in here. I might not be immortal, and I might not have any special abilities, but what’s that in the overall scheme of things. If I can take out several Praetorians all by myself, I can’t say I’m too worried about my chances in here. So while everyone else in here struts around like they’re the biggest badass in the room, I’m going to sit in this chair over here with a glass of wine and my one guilty pleasure, a romance book. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you should step into the ring with me too.
The laws of desire…
Dante Condellaire, heir apparent to the Sicari Lords, knows that being a true leader means sacrifice. For Dante it was relinquishing all erotic pleasures. But he never expected his willpower to be tested so fiercely by Cleopatra Vorenus, expert assassin of the Order, and daughter of the man he is positioned to succeed.
The rules of battle…
Cleo prefers working alone—until she meets Dante who shares her goal: to destroy a Praetorian stronghold where Sicari women are imprisoned for devious purposes. Bringing the mission off without a hitch pumps up more than their resolve. It sets off a sexual spark too combustible to ignore.
Are all made to be broken.
As their attraction flares like an inferno, the stakes are raised. So are the risks. Before the mission is over, Dante and Cleo will be plunged into a dangerous conspiracy where a traitor threatens the very foundation of the Order, as well as the fiery bond between Dante and Cleo—warriors and lovers now torn between duty and desire.
Read the first three chapters of Inferno’s Kiss
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9.20.2011
Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 4 Shadowman vs. Gabriel Makos
Home > Supernatural Smackdown > Round 3, Day 4 Shadowman vs. Gabriel Makos
Shadowman vs. Gabriel Makos
Remember to check out Dark Faerie Tale's Site and choose wisely...tweet out your choice #SuperSmack
Why do you summon me here to this, this… smackdown? Fools. I am Shadowman, also Thanatos. I am the Grim Reaper, the stealer of souls. What folly do you seek by treating with Death? Did you want to meet me so soon?
Come closer so that you can be duly “smacked” and I can get on with my work. For my love is trapped in Hell and I am forging a Gate to that fell place to fetch her back. So what if devils might course into the mortal world? So what if the angels cannot hold them back? What justice is there that my bright Kathleen is sent to Hell for a crime I committed?
None. So damn the angels and their Order. I’m for Hell and my Kathleen.
I am pouring my fae magic into this wrought iron atrocity, barbed and terrible. And every strike of this hammer bears my rage, my sorrow, and my terror. I forge these strange flowers to adorn the gate—each with three petals folded over its core, as I would protect her soul in that darkness. It’s my hope that she will endure a little longer until I can come for her.
Kathleen knows something of endurance. She battled her failing heart all her life, and I her constant companion on the other side of the veil, waiting for the moment when that organ would fail and I would finally take her.
But she held on and mastered herself. She cheated Fate for years with her iron will. She gleamed bright as Shadow encroached upon her life. And then there was that night, that most criminal night, when fae and mortal sought to touch.
My memories come thick and true before the fire-hazed smoke of my forge. Kathleen, bidding me to cross the boundary between Twilight and mortality. Kathleen, asking me to look at her painting and tell her if she captured any of the magic of faerie in her landscape.
Reader, I was afraid to cross. I, who have looked upon horror and tragedy well beyond your understanding, was afraid to reveal myself to her. You see, for all my power—and it is vast, humanity has some over me as well. I appear in the form that the mortal conceives Death. If Death is a monster, I will take the shape of your deepest fear. If Death is a friend, I will hold out my hand to help you cross.
Kathleen saw in me, her long attendant on the other side of the veil, sweet Shadow, a lover. She made me beautiful and strong, large everywhere, for her pleasure. I’d never known the beat, the want, of carnal desire, but I felt it rise with her heat.
I sundered the boundary between our worlds to come to her. I, not Kathleen. I trespassed and she is in Hell.
There is no justice.
So let us finish this smacking business and I will get on with my own.
I cannot be killed, so don’t even try. I’m made of deepest Shadow. I am Shadow, which is magic. I’ve visited every battle field, presided over every war. I’ve faced hosts of angels, their blades shining, but not even they could harry Death.
I know every weapon ever conceived, and none can match my scythe. No, I do not carry my scythe now. I have abandoned it for the hammer made by the angels. Ironic, I know. But have no fear: This weapon can do dark work, too. Come, and you will see. But select very carefully your line of attack. I have seen and defeated them all because for time immemorial humans have attempted to fight Death, fight the cross into Twilight and Beyond. If you are fortunate enough to land a blow, even one through the heart, or if you should, perchance, take off my head, be apprised that Shadow will only reform me, and instantly. I cannot die. I am Death.
But today I am busy, so come forth, be smacked. I will make quick work of you. Kathleen is waiting.
Erin Kellison is the author of the Shadow Series, which includes Shadow Bound and Shadow Fall, as well as the upcoming Shadowman (Sept 2011), and the e-novella Shadow Touch (June 2011). Stories have always been a central part of Erin's life. She attempted her first book in sixth grade, a dark fantasy adventure, and she still has those early hand-written chapters. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in English Language and Literature and went on for a masters in Cultural Anthropology, focusing on oral storytelling. When she had children, nothing scared her anymore, so her focus shifted to writing fiction.
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Fighting for the PJV - Erin Kellison's Shadowman
Shadowman vs. Gabriel Makos
Name: Shadowman
Book Series: Shadow series
Job: Grim Reaper, Courier of souls from the mortal world to the afterlife, Dark Lord of the Fae
Height: Varies (6’4” in my favored incarnation)
Weight: Weightless or (260 in my favored incarnation)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
From (Location): Twilight, the realm of the fae
Significant Other: Kathleen O’Brien
Signature Move: Cutting sweep of my scythe
Kill Highlights: Too many to name; I am Death
Enemies: Angels
Favorite Pastime: Watching over Kathleen
Other Facts: None can defeat me
Book Series: Shadow series
Job: Grim Reaper, Courier of souls from the mortal world to the afterlife, Dark Lord of the Fae
Height: Varies (6’4” in my favored incarnation)
Weight: Weightless or (260 in my favored incarnation)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
From (Location): Twilight, the realm of the fae
Significant Other: Kathleen O’Brien
Signature Move: Cutting sweep of my scythe
Kill Highlights: Too many to name; I am Death
Enemies: Angels
Favorite Pastime: Watching over Kathleen
Other Facts: None can defeat me
Why do you summon me here to this, this… smackdown? Fools. I am Shadowman, also Thanatos. I am the Grim Reaper, the stealer of souls. What folly do you seek by treating with Death? Did you want to meet me so soon?
Come closer so that you can be duly “smacked” and I can get on with my work. For my love is trapped in Hell and I am forging a Gate to that fell place to fetch her back. So what if devils might course into the mortal world? So what if the angels cannot hold them back? What justice is there that my bright Kathleen is sent to Hell for a crime I committed?
None. So damn the angels and their Order. I’m for Hell and my Kathleen.
I am pouring my fae magic into this wrought iron atrocity, barbed and terrible. And every strike of this hammer bears my rage, my sorrow, and my terror. I forge these strange flowers to adorn the gate—each with three petals folded over its core, as I would protect her soul in that darkness. It’s my hope that she will endure a little longer until I can come for her.
Kathleen knows something of endurance. She battled her failing heart all her life, and I her constant companion on the other side of the veil, waiting for the moment when that organ would fail and I would finally take her.
But she held on and mastered herself. She cheated Fate for years with her iron will. She gleamed bright as Shadow encroached upon her life. And then there was that night, that most criminal night, when fae and mortal sought to touch.
My memories come thick and true before the fire-hazed smoke of my forge. Kathleen, bidding me to cross the boundary between Twilight and mortality. Kathleen, asking me to look at her painting and tell her if she captured any of the magic of faerie in her landscape.
Reader, I was afraid to cross. I, who have looked upon horror and tragedy well beyond your understanding, was afraid to reveal myself to her. You see, for all my power—and it is vast, humanity has some over me as well. I appear in the form that the mortal conceives Death. If Death is a monster, I will take the shape of your deepest fear. If Death is a friend, I will hold out my hand to help you cross.
Kathleen saw in me, her long attendant on the other side of the veil, sweet Shadow, a lover. She made me beautiful and strong, large everywhere, for her pleasure. I’d never known the beat, the want, of carnal desire, but I felt it rise with her heat.
I sundered the boundary between our worlds to come to her. I, not Kathleen. I trespassed and she is in Hell.
There is no justice.
So let us finish this smacking business and I will get on with my own.
I cannot be killed, so don’t even try. I’m made of deepest Shadow. I am Shadow, which is magic. I’ve visited every battle field, presided over every war. I’ve faced hosts of angels, their blades shining, but not even they could harry Death.
I know every weapon ever conceived, and none can match my scythe. No, I do not carry my scythe now. I have abandoned it for the hammer made by the angels. Ironic, I know. But have no fear: This weapon can do dark work, too. Come, and you will see. But select very carefully your line of attack. I have seen and defeated them all because for time immemorial humans have attempted to fight Death, fight the cross into Twilight and Beyond. If you are fortunate enough to land a blow, even one through the heart, or if you should, perchance, take off my head, be apprised that Shadow will only reform me, and instantly. I cannot die. I am Death.
But today I am busy, so come forth, be smacked. I will make quick work of you. Kathleen is waiting.
Ghosts
They haunt the halls of the Segue Institute, terrifying the living, refusing to cross over. But one soul is driven by a very different force.
Love
It survives even death. And Kathleen O'Brien swore she would return to those she was forced to leave too soon.
Shadowman
He broke every rule to have her in life; now he will defy the angels to find her in death.
The Gate
Forging it is his single hope of being reunited with his beloved, but through it an abomination enters the world. Leaving a trail of blood and violence, the devil hunts her too. Pursued through realms of bright fantasy and dark reality, Kathleen is about to be taken...
Erin Kellison is the author of the Shadow Series, which includes Shadow Bound and Shadow Fall, as well as the upcoming Shadowman (Sept 2011), and the e-novella Shadow Touch (June 2011). Stories have always been a central part of Erin's life. She attempted her first book in sixth grade, a dark fantasy adventure, and she still has those early hand-written chapters. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in English Language and Literature and went on for a masters in Cultural Anthropology, focusing on oral storytelling. When she had children, nothing scared her anymore, so her focus shifted to writing fiction. Win Shadow Bound, Shadow Fall, and Shadowman!
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