Monday, November 17, 2014

What Was the Plague?


plague-mask

yersinia-pestis-is-found-most-commonly-in-rats-rome-italy+1152_12960809970-tpfil02aw-5920The plague which occurred in Good yersinia-enterocolitica-CSister, Bad Sister and was referred to in each of the other books of the epic series The Heart of Good_Sister,_Bad_Sis_Cover_for_Kindlethe Staff was caused by Ugleeuh. Ugleeuh had designs on Prince Hebraun of Niarg, who was betrothed to Princess Branwen of Far. remote_image_1331653487She fancied herself such a raging beauty that Hebraun would surely fall for her in spite of her having no peerage, if only she could eliminate Branwen. And she went to a great deal of trouble to do so. She followed the instructions that she found in a grimoire which had long been hidden for everyone's safety.
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She had to find a young girl infected with Yersinia enterocolitica, with a high fever and plague-doctorrats02_img01bloody diarrhea and pains in her right lower belly and in her joints. It took her some time because the girl also had to have a pet kitten with lice. She put a spell on herself for protection, took the kitten and put it into a basket 514_400x400_NoPeelwith a tight lid lined with linen and said a long incantation which caused a gene substitution that changed the Yersinia enterocolitica to Flea_infected_with_yersinia_pestisYersinia pestis, the dreaded plague. She then arranged for a courier to deliver the kitten to Branwen as a present from Hebraun. Branwen fell ill at once, releasing the pestilence into the countryside.
oil-of-oreganoUgleeuh's Father Razzmorten (who knew none of this) learnt of a cure oreganocalled worrobobo from Ngerrk-ga, an Ngop shaman on the Dark Continent, and set about making it, stopping the plague.

Tom Phipps

Friday, November 7, 2014

Demonica and Spitemorta Have Lunch: Part 2


"That was fun, Grandmother," said Spitemorta, pausing to count the severed fingers and toes which she was picking up from the floor of the rocking coach, all about the mutilated body lying between their feet. "It was particularly entertaining, freezing his throat and jaws. He never peeped, but do you suppose Merfyn noticed his kicking?" She flung a toe out the window and bounced with glee when she saw it land in a woman's bread basket. "I can just see her now: 'My word! I have a toe in my bread basket!'" She rocked back and forth with laughter, slapping her knee.
"I didn't know you had a sense of humor, dear..."
"Here!" shouted Spitemorta as she leant out the window, launching her double handful of digits at a woman who caught them in her apron, only to collapse in a faint.
"I see we are at least managing to pass the time," said Demonica.
"Well, I had to throw out the fingers," she said, sitting back into the seat with a bounce. "And what shall we do with the body, Grandmother, leave it on King Theran's doorstep on our way out of town?" 
"Hmm...crude and pointless, I think," she said as she began studying the blood soaking her clothes. "No, let's just pitch it out alongside the road once we're out of town.Theran wouldn't know who left it, unless you went to the trouble to make it plain to him somehow. But I can't imagine wanting Theran so upset by our visit that he forms an alliance with Niarg for protection, can you?"
"He wouldn't dare! Oh, all right. I see how he might."
"Say. Be a good girl and clean up, would you?"
"What?"
"You've got the Staff. Everything's positively soaked. We wouldn't want Merfyn to open the door for us and run away."
"Oh," said Spitemorta as she took hold of the Staff. "Say no more Grandmother." At once the blood was gone from their clothes and from the inside of the coach.
Demonica leant out the window. "Merfyn!" she hollered. "This is far enough. Get down from there and help us throw out this carcass!"
"Whoa!" called out Merfyn with a jingle of harness and a squeal of brakes. They listened to him scuffle down and hop onto the gravel with a crunch and click the latch. He threw wide the door and drew a breath, catching himself at the sight of the body and the two of them studying him from head to toe to see how he was managing.
"Why he's the one I helped in a few hours ago, isn't he?" he said in in a polished and dutiful tone as his hands trembled. "Uh, was he any trouble?"
"Not in the least," said Demonica. "In fact we found him surprisingly entertaining, considering his condition when we picked him up."
"Well. I'll declare. That's a..." he stammered, utterly at a loss for bearings.
"Well Merfyn?" said Spitemorta.
"I see you did indeed say carcass," he said, pausing to take a couple of furtive glances out and about. "So I reckon you also said..."
"Yes, Merfyn, throw him out. And 'help' actually means you do it."
"Oh yes, Your Majesty. I certainly shall. It's just that there are still houses, if ye know what I mean, and this being a foreign place and all..."
Demonica stepped out of the coach. "There's not a soul in sight, Merfyn," she said, as if she were coaxing a wary child to relieve himself in the bushes. "Now, get this kaoc'h ki du out of the coach, and drive straight back to Goll."
He grabbed the body by an ankle and a wrist and drug it out into the ditch to return at once to hold the door for Demonica to climb aboard.
Demonica motioned for Spitemorta to step out with the Staff. "We're staying, Merfyn. You drive straight back to Goll, this minute."
Merfyn blinked in confusion. "Yes, but..."
"Go!" barked Spitemorta.
 ***
Excerpt from Ch 37, The Burgeoning


Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps


Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Demonica and Spitemorta Have Lunch


Part 1
 
Demonica pushed away her plate and studied the sour look on Spitemorta's face. "Did your meal not agree with you, dear?" she said sweetly.
"The meal was inferior, of course, but bearable, Grandmother. You seemed to enjoy yours, so why do you even bother me about my opinion?"
"Oh, I don't know, dear. For some reason I keep thinking that time might pass more quickly if we didn't just sit here and glare at one another. Perhaps I'm mistaken."
"It's still a long time 'til dark, Grandmother. I can't imagine that you and I could possibly have that much to say to each other."
"You're undoubtedly right, but as you have already pointed out, this little place has nothing worth visiting, so we seem to be stuck with merely passing the time until it's dark enough to leave on the Staff for Gwael. Unless, of course, you're ready to endure a traveling spell, this one time."
"Spare me..."
"Hey!" said a reeling man as he bumped the table, slopping mead out of Spitemorta and Demonica's goblets. "Wings of the Heavens One and Wings of the Heavens Two. Now, we don't get lovelies like you ones, come down to this house, just any old day."
"See?" said Demonica, leaning aside with dancing eyes. "It shows. I told you I was natural for the part when you demanded that I be Fnadi-yaphn."
Spitemorta flung her a very dark glower before sharing it with their company. "Back off, you stinking sot!"
"Now that's ire-knee," he said, bumping the table again, "Wings of the Heavens One, is it? "Or are you Wings of the Heavens Two? Why is it, Wings of the Heavens whatever the number you are, why is it that all the pretty skirts from the heavens are such mistresses...?" he paused for a lewd hoot and snort. "How come all you pretty skirts are such stinking mistresses of ire-knee? Did I say 'stinking?' Or did you say 'stinking'...?"
"Beat it!" growled Spitemorta.
"Now Wings of the Heavens whatever you are," he said as he thrust his bristly face into hers, "that's a right smart amount of ire-knee for someone wants to be your mistress..."
"Yea! Chat her up, Crafiad!" cried someone amongst the grinning group who were filing over from the bar.
Spitemorta furiously shoved back from Crafiad's face and grabbed the Staff.
Demonica grabbed her wrist. "Let's leave now, dear," she said as calmly as if they were going strolling. "Your uncle, King Theran, will be worried if we're not back soon, and no doubt I shall be chastised for having brought you into this common house."
Spitemorta hesitated, suddenly seeing how it all was and played along. She nodded and stood. "Yes, you're quite correct, Demonica," she said haughtily. "Uncle will be most put out with both of us." She took Demonica's arm and started for the door. 
"Pretty skirts of ire-knee!" cried Crafiad, stumbling after them to grab Spitemorta by the arm. "If you Wings of Mistrosity are royal skirts, where's your guard...?"
"Here," said Spitemorta, as she jabbed the Staff into his face, blowing his head apart like a bomb, breaking glasses across the room. The entire tavern froze in shocked silence as she and Demonica resumed their unhurried departure.
"Well that taught him, I should say," said Demonica as they settled once more into the coach. "You do realize that rumors are already spreading here in this sleepy place?"
"So? A little fear will do them good, and give King Theran something to wake up about, crazy old fool."
"I don't think he is the doddering old idiot you take him for, Spitemorta."
"Really? You think it was an act, then? But you seemed completely taken in by his control of his person nonsense he was spreading all over, thick as butter."
"Sure. I wanted to see how far he'd go with it. But, I get the idea that he has all his faculties, mind and body. No, he's playing at something else, though it could merely be that he fears our power."
"Or he is more like his daughter than I thought. Well, if that's so, Grandmother, I shall simply deal with him as I did with her, when the time comes."
"I'm sure you will, dear. Now, what shall we do until dark?"
Suddenly a patron came stumbling and flailing his arms out of the Buck and Doe to sprawl into the street in front their coach.
"He was egging on Crafiad, back inside," said Spitemorta as she looked down with a frown to whisk away a fleck of scalp and hair sticking to her bodice. "Let's sharpen our skills of persuasion, shall we Grandmother?"
Demonica's eyes lit with an immediate fire. "Merfyn!" she hollered. "Stop and help aboard that poor fellow in the road, please!"     
"Up with me?"
"No, no. Inside with us."
 ***

Excerpt from Ch 36, The Burgeoning


Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Monday, November 3, 2014

Blog Tour for Aoife Sheridan, Author of Hunters














Today I am pleased to welcome author Aoife Sheridan as she launches her blog tour for her book, Hunters.






Character Profiles For Hunters

Name: Abigail Thornton














Height: 5 foot seven
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Brown
Age: Nineteen

Job Description: Demon Hunter
Gifts: Can see ghosts
Guardian: Father Peter

Family: Deceased




Name: Daniel Angelo

















Height: Six foot
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair Colour: Black
Age: Unknown

Gifts: Ability to Heal
Job: Demon Hunter and Protector
Family: Unknown




Purchase Links:






To contact Aoife you can email her at aoifesheridan101@gmail.com 














"This tour sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com"