Exciting and inspirational

In my line of work I get to meet a lot of different people. I've had the opportunity to speak with the different Premiers of Saskatchewan over the years. Such men as Grant Devine and Roy Romanow. I've also spoken to one of the most interesting women in the history of provincial politics in Lynda Haverstock. Had things been different, I still believe that she would have been elected Premier of the province at one time in her political career.

I've had the opportunity to meet the members of Harlequin when they began touring Canada as a bar band. I've spoken with Kenny Shields of Streetheart. I've interviewed different members of the Saskatchewan Roughriders. I've spoken to mayors, musicians, athletes. And last week, I met one of the most inspirational people I could ever meet.

Leanne Hynd is a local singer/song writer. And she is one of the most exciting, inspirational people I have met in some time. She stopped by the shop and I had the chance to talk to her. And during our talk, Canyons of Steel came up. I'd been at a road block with the story, and a friend of mine (Tricia) was helping, but I was having a difficult time. Tricia and I have come up with some wonderful story writing ideas, but putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) was difficult. I got that jump start when I met Leanne and we talked. She is such a very positive person and helped out a great deal. And I encourage anyone to go to her site and check out her music. www.leannehynd.com. She plays small concerts around the year, and I've listened to a couple of her albums (I have two that she gave me, and I copied them onto my computer into iTunes so I can listen to them while I write). To the left is a photo of Leanne, taken by Susan Ewert. That handsome guy in the background is a close friend of Leanne's, Charley Edwards. Charley is a great person to talk to as well, and also has that very up and positive attitude.

Thanks, Leanne. You helped me get excited, and in doing so both Tricia and I are back into the swing of things.

Until next time...

Keep 'em flyin'.

Canyons of Steel

Guild Wars Dance Party

The fun with videos continues. Except this time, I've started posting it up on YouTube. I decided to take a few of my characters from Guild Wars and do a compilation dance routine with them, just to show off their moves. The game itself is fun, and one I'd recommend for anyone who wants to get involved in an MMORPG (massive multiplayer online role playing game for the uninitiated). The biggest selling point is the fact that it doesn't cost a monthly fee.

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 2

His cloak billowed in the wind as he stood on the rock face that looked out onto the waters of the triangle. These islands, with such history, and he would only add to it. But to do that, he would have to make such alliances as with those that would populate the area. He spent several years studying the different organizations that seemed to be the most powerful and would suit his needs. Interpol, CSIS Paranormal Division and even MI-5 Paranormal Division were definitely out of the question for his needs. He would have to rely on those with much more clandestine actions.

The Weavers at first looked promising, as did the Forgotten Ones. But each in it's own right held onto the past and refused to accept new ways. This was a problem. Don Maximus was too well known. Illuminati, too secret. This left the organization known as the Heritage Front. They would fit his needs perfectly. Especially when he suggested that he could raise a real vampire to lead their soldiers in battle. This was much more promising to the leaders of the Front. Especially when they spent so much time creating fake vampires and werewolves to fill in for their army.

They just needed the proper materials. And one of those materials needed to be transported by someone unsuspecting. The hiring of mercenaries, while not particularly wanted, was the only solution. And even better when one of honour is found, and with the proper story concocted, then any man would follow along. And now, information had reached his ears that indeed such a man had been reached. His real name was unknown, but he went by one of two names; Operative Violet Rose and Derringer. A gunslinger with old west honour and justice in his heart. The right story would indeed be required. And if they died, then mores the pity. Such is life in the Isles.

"Sir," a smartly dressed adjutant spoke in a respectful tone. "Reports coming in of three people on horseback."

The man in the expensive looking robes nodded in response, looking in the direction the adjutant mentioned. "Let them come. We shall deal with the in a business-like fashion. After all, we have the right information to give them. They won't back down from what we tell them," he replied finally in his impeccable speech. The adjutant nodded, nearly bowing to the man, and turned to carry out his duties as the man remained where he was. The wind again picked up the cloak, billowing it out just slightly, almost as if it were a signal to him. And he pulled the hood away from his head, letting long, golden trusses of hair flow free around his shoulders. The long hair barely hid his heritage, his finely pointed ears betraying his elven ancestry. And if anyone on Earth were to have an clue, they might have recognized the amulet that hung about his neck. A red wizard. On his world, much more powerful than anything on Earth, but on this third rock from old sol, he had to rebuild his power.

Amen'Dell Ger'utinam breathed deep as he smiled, today would definitely be a good day. He scanned the horizon carefully. The three riders were in the distance. This "sherriff" and his "deputies", as he learned was the proper term for a man such as this. His mind was distracted as a glint of light caught his attention. Amen'Dell furrowed his brow and snapped his fingers, motioning toward the direction he saw the light. "Please see what that was," he said in a calm voice. "I'll not have anything disturb this meeting. And I won't tolerate failure." The adjutant snapped to attention then moved to carry out his orders. Amen'Dell turned his attention from the light back to the riders. Nothing would stop him. He was too close now.

Had he continued to study the reflection, he might understand more without having to send troops to investigate. Two hundred meters away, a lithe figure of a woman lowered her binoculars. She quickly stored them and took out a rifle, making certain it was loaded. This woman was similar to Amen'Dell in a way. At least, in heritage. The slender frame, the pale skin, and her sharp tipped ears. The one thing that gave away her elven heritage. But she knew Earth technology all too well. Pania Alow began to hunker down in a small culvert, waiting patiently. She'd been following this elven mage for months since he arrived on Earth from their home plane. He was dangerous. And he had to be stopped. But she needed to find out what he was searching for.

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 1

The mark came in. Malcolm Montgomery Watt took the message as he sat at his table, casually drinking his beer. Across the table, John Walker kept his head down as he pretended to work on the daily crossword puzzle. They often did this, the pair of gunslingers sitting in a darkened tavern as they waited for some mark to inform them of some major happening. As they did this, Marianne patrolled the joint, listening for anything of interest. A few of the patrons knew to look for them, as did a few who worked the tavern. Call it payment for protecting the Oakes and Cap.

"We got it," Monty whispered as he pushed a slip of paper underneath his palm toward Walker. The old gunhand set his pen down next to Monty's hand and took the slip of paper.

"Got any idea what a seven letter word fer 'Slipped' would be?" he asked casually as the Aussie smirked.

"Bananas," Marianne suggested as she approached the table. Her voice lowered to a whisper as she took a seat. "What have we got?"

John Walker had taken the paper and laid it out on the crossword, making it so it still looked like he was working on the puzzle. "Recovery," he simply said. "Needa pick somethin' up from a shipment comin' in. Guess there's some gentleman needs somethin' picked up an' moved without the Don's crew findin' out 'bout it."

"What's the pay?" Monty said with interest. A retrieval operation would mean things might move smoothly. As good as they were, the idea of having to work some gun play wasn't looked upon fondly. If need be, they'd do it, but jobs like this one were always looked upon as a better opportunity. So much better the chance of not being shot at.

"Good chuck o' change," Walker replied with a low whistle. "Sayin' 250 upfront once we meet 'im, an' 250 'pon completion."

"I take it that's in the thousands," Monty said with wide eyed enthusiasm. Walker just smiled and nodded. "Well, then. What're we waitin' for? Who is this guy we gotta meet with?"

"Some fella name o' Darkenson," Walker said as he looked to the slip of paper covering the crossword puzzle. "Guess this thing is pretty important to 'im, 'cause he says he needs it d'livered ta some warehouse in Saint Mika."

"Bloody..." Monty said in a low voice. "Saint Mika. Mafia don't even head out there unless they plan on cuttin' from the Don an' go rogue."

"Add to that," Marianne spoke up. "There are reports of agents from both the Illuminati and the Sisterhood that populate the island. Even if it is in the shadows." She took a deep breath as she thought back to her time patrolling under the Web.

"No one ever said this were gonna be easy," Walker replied. He folded up his newspaper, slip of paper inside, and rose to his feet. "We best get ourselves ready ta meet this man. Get the full details from him." Marianne and Monty nodded in unison as they rose as well, gathering their gear and leaving money for the drinks they had.

The trio was known in the island very well. They had become saviours to many of the common people, and a bane to those looking to make a name for themselves. Many of the businesses such as the tavern they vacated had made it known their presence was welcome. Even going so far as adding a set of hitching posts in front of the tavern for their three horses.

John Walker waited on his horse as his comrades mounted their's. He nodded to each as they looked to him, and they steered the horses toward Port William to meet with this strange man.

Canyons of Steel - Nobody Guns For My Family Pt. 10

Epilogue

Marianne closed the locker carefully after putting away the recovered equipment. It had been an incredibly long day. And it brought back every memory from a year ago to her mind. She reached into her coat pocket, fingers searching for only a moment as they quickly found purchase on a small locket. She took it out and opened it gently. It held three photographs, her own, Maxine's and Eleanor's. All when they were children. As she brushed some dust away from the glass, a tear ran along her cheek. She tried holding it in, but felt she couldn't. And it grew even worse when she felt Walker's calm and easy hand on her shoulder. Marianne turned to look into his eyes, and she fell into the pools of comfort without thinking.

He had said she was part of his family now. Herself and Monty. And deep inside, she knew that there was no word of a lie that came from his lips. He had honour behind his words. And she trusted him completely. Walker didn't have to say anything. His eyes spoke volumes. The place they had carved out for themselves was safety enough for them. They had faced the Heritage Front, the Sisterhood, and Don Maximus' thugs together. They could face anything.

She closed the locket and placed it on the necklace she wore. A fitting place to always remember who her family was. In time, she believed she may have to add two pictures to it.

*****

Sister Eventide trudged behind her two agents. How would she explain their failure to the Mistress? How could they return, explaining how Sister White had thwarted their efforts? Eventide steeled herself. At least the punishment would be most for herself, not the two agents that she lead. They were promising, and she actually felt they should not receive such harsh punishment.

As they walked silently, Eventide would look back toward the Safehouse every so often. She found Walker and his crew most interesting indeed. She thought of this as her two agents walked carefully ahead of her, turning corners before she did. And with Eventide's mind preoccupied, it was no wonder that she was oblivious to the next few moments. The last corner before they would have reached the transport they had left docked was quiet and unassuming. Eventide had stopped for a moment, but now continued on. But she had to stop again. Her agents had been rendered unconscious. As she turned the corner, both Sisters that accompanied her were laying on the floor in a crumpled heap. She quickly searched the area, her mind suddenly realizing just a little too late who might have done this.

And then her cheek began to sting.

She reeled back as she felt another blow. Mannequin was keeping her off balance, but not doing enough damage to seriously hurt her. He landed another blow and grabbed her roughly by the collar. "Sister Eventide," he said in a voice that sounded more like a whispered scream. "Sister White might be finished with you," he said as he slammed Eventide against the wall. She winced noticeably at the pain. "But I'm not."

The End

Canyons of Steel - Nobody Guns For My Family Pt. 9

Tip of the Bermuda Triangle, present day

Walker and Monty held their hands up as the three black clad women trained their weapons directly at them. One of them, who's face was not covered, smiled a wicked smile as she studied the pair. The operation was anything but simple, and Walker knew that their best case scenario would more than likely be capture. But what this woman had been doing on these islands, had forced Walker to act, and quickly. Of the devils that lived on this island, at least Don Maximus had some kind honour.

"The infamous Operative Violet Rose," the Sister snickered as she studied each man carefully. "And his ever infamous sidekick, Omega Six. You two have a heavy price on your heads. The Illuminati is paying a great deal for your return to them." She chuckled lightly as her words seemed to be spoken with acid. "No information was given if that order meant dead or alive. I prefer the former."

Walker merely smiled lightly as the Sisters readied their weapons. "Well then," his voice was cool and calm as he drawled his words. "If this here's an execution, then maybe ya gonna gimme the honour o' havin' a last cigarette." The Sister smirked again and nodded and Walker slowly reached into his jacket to produce a metal cigarette holder. "Much appreciated." He lit the cigarette and pocketed the holder again.

The Sister looked to Monty with sly eyes. "And you?"

"Shiela, I don't want a cigarette," he replied with a smirk. "That shit'll kill ya, mate." The irony of the situation coupled with the comment made Walker laugh slightly. The Sister, however, only glared in response.

"I hadn't expected such flip remarks from either of you," she snarled. "I anticipated some measure of heroics from you, an attempt to escape by now."

"Then you really don't know neither one o' us," Walker said as he took a pull on the cigarette. "An' as fer heroics, well darlin', ya underestimated my crew. B'cause I'd have ta say that we've got the drop on you." Walker just let the words sink in as the Sister continued to glare at him. Her eyes could have been daggers with the look she gave him. How could these two men be as calm as they were knowing that their death was imminent.

"You really don't fully grasp the situation, do you, gentlemen," she said in a low hiss. "I had thought that I would save the execution for your delivery to the Illuminati, but your nonchalant attitude has worn thin with me. Yes gentlemen, now is the time you shall..." She stopped suddenly as there was a definite click that came behind her. The hammer of a pistol being cocked.

"Blah, blah, blah," Marianne Wollcott said in an even tone as she held the Colt .45 to the back of the Sister's head. "You always were a windbag, do you know that, Sister Eventide? And you never could fully grasp the situation of an assignment. It is more than obvious you didn't study this assignment well enough. If so, then maybe you'd have realized I was here."

Sister Eventide's eyes grew wide, and in an involuntary action, she began to raise her hands as if to surrender. The pair of agents with her made the fatal mistake of looking back, giving Walker and Monty time to draw weapons and train them on the pair. How the tables turn. A calming signal from Walker urged the Sisters to drop their weapons. "Ya really don't understand the gravity o' the situation, do ya?" Walker drawled, any smile that he had before was gone now.

"Sir," Marianne called out as she pushed the barrel of the Colt into the back of Eventide's head. "Might I make a suggestion."

"I'm all ears, Annie."

"Don't kill them," Marianne said flatly. "Strip them of weapons and gear, leave them in their clothes and let them crawl back to the Sisterhood. Their failure will be their shame, and worse than any death."

Walker considered this for a moment, then slowly nodded. He motioned with his gun for the three to do as Marianne suggested, and watched as pistols, blades, and tech was dropped into a small pile on the floor. As Eventide dropped the last of her gear, Marianne took the pistol and slapped her, butt first, on the cheek. "This is for last year, you bitch. This is for what you did to my sister. My REAL sister."

"You were part of OUR family," Eventide spat back.

"No. I wasn't."

As Monty gathered the equipment, Walker held a pair of Desert Eagles trained on the remaining two Sisters. His words, however, were directed to Eventide. "She has a new family, now. An' if yer smart, yer gonna steer clear o' us an' this island. B'cause ya come gunnin' fer any o' us 'gain, I won't be as charitable as I am right now. Nobody, but nobody, guns fer my family." He gave a nod to Eventide, an indication to get moving. As the three shamed Sisters walked slowly away, Walker lowered his weapons. He looked to Marianne and let go of a breath he seemed to be holding for a while. Marianne's features softened as she looked Walker and Monty. In her eyes was all the thank you that needed to be said.

Canyons of Steel - Nobody Guns For My Family Pt. 8

She didn't stare out the window of the small, twin engine Cesna. She didn't care about the water below them. Nor the clouds. Not even the sight of a beautiful pod of whales stirred her interest. Marianne Wollcott only cared about the last phrase that anyone had said to her in earnest. I hope your choices are better than mine. For as smug as he was, Derrik Stewart held some wisdom. Perhaps his tortured soul would be saved. But Marianne knew her own could not. Not ever.

The islands were a remote location in the Bermuda Triangle. It was difficult to get to, and most of the worst vermin on Earth hid in this small island chain. Ruled by the iron fist of Don Thadius Maximus, this Mafia controlled chain of islands was a lawless land indeed. She knew that she would have to hide in this place, because every single person on these islands would be gunning for her. Perhaps she would find allies in her fight for survival.

She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, letting herself lightly sleep. It had been five days since she had last gotten any real sleep. Since the assault on the Stewart Towers, she'd been on the run, sleeping where and when she could. "Sleep. Perchance to dream," she muttered to herself.

"What was that, ma'am," the pilot asked as he looked back to her.

"Nothing," she replied as she forced a small smile. Probably the first smile since she'd joined the Sisterhood. "Just quoting Shakespear."

"Hamlet, isn't it," the pilot commented. Again, Marianne smiled.

"You are quite well read."

"I'm a pilot, ma'am," he said with a chuckle. "When I'm not making trips, all I have to do is read. I get by with that just fine."

Marianne looked out the window of the small plane and smiled. Perhaps this would be a good start to a new life. She had always been associated with cutthroats and thieves, never once had she been involved in a conversation, even as short as this, that held any kind of meaning. "That's life. All of us just getting by."