Hi all! Since the book is due at the end of July (EEK!), I’m hard at work. I’ve always worked better with deadlines, so here it goes! My goal for this month is simply to post an updated word count every day.
Also, keep checking this space for possible Kickstarter #4 news (More illustrations? You betcha!)
Updated Word Count: 39,132 words (only 40,868 to go!)
Snippet from today/yesterday’s writing! As always, this is unedited and unrevised, so enjoy! Remember to subscribe on the left hand side for the latest in news about the Steam Empire Chronicles.
“Decanus! Decanus!” Julius shouted, hoping one of the junior officers would hear and attend to him. An easterner screamed as he attacked from behind, Gwendyrn shooting him cold with one of his hand repeaters. The bolt spun the man around, dropping him to the floor.
“We’ve got to secure the train tunnel and the gate house as well. I’ll take the cannon, you take that gate house.” Gwendyrn nodded. A wounded decanus with a motley collection of legionnaires behind him arrived, forming a ring of steel around the officers. “Good luck, centurion.” The Gaul gave a salute and strode off towards the gate. Julius headed for the cannon. He wove his way forward, cutting down mongols here and there, dragging an injured legionnaire against the train here. He had lost his shield somewhere, so he grabbed at his wrist and slowly opened his back up, air legion, shield. The articulated components slowly slid into place, forming a neat circle of steel protection.
The cannon boomed again, cutting down another swath of his men.
Anger turned his vision red, and Julius charged forward, using his shield to batter and push back the few easterners who tried to stop him. Several of his legionnaires joined him, forming a wedge that angled right at the Mongolian position. Desperate to hold onto their cannon, the Mongol crew reloaded desperately. Julius could see them inserting the ammunition and slamming it inside, ramming it home with their specialized gear.
“Be ready to drop” He called to his men, his voice hoarse. A mongolian ax bit deeply into his shield, slamming him backwards and ricocheting off his steel articulated shield. Thank goodness for roman craftmanship He thought as he stabbed his attacker in the gut and kicked him away. Motion ahead of him drew his attention.
“DROP!” He screamed, falling to the ground painfully atop his shield.
to visit the page!
Modern Papyrus 