Steampunk Holmes: Legacy of the Nautilus trailer

Steampunk Holmes trailer from live2contage on Vimeo.

My Hero

He probably thought she was just another absent-minded mother with a pretty face.

Maybe he thought she was careless; one of those girls who had kids too young, who still didn't have a firm grip on life, and certainly didn't have much in the way of brains.

I don't know, he might have even resented the extra work it caused him, having to chase her halfway across the street to return her handbag.

He certainly had no idea who the young lady was that the old purse belonged to; maybe he wondered why a well-dressed, slightly eccentric foreigner like her was riding his bus with her equally well-dressed, slightly eccentric baby daughter, at 9 p.m.

He looked tired, worried, stressed--as though he might have welcomed the few shekels the purse contained. Maybe he was tempted to keep it. "After all," he may have thought, "She doesn't look like she cares much about her bag--nor does she look particularly destitute."

Maybe he was thinking, 'What is it with women, anyway? Always expecting the men to chase them around everywhere..."

Maybe it made him angry, the thought that so many, many people travel on his bus every single day, and yet hardly anyone ever takes him into account. "I might be part of the framework, for all they care. What do they think I am, a lost-items delivery boy?"

Maybe he had other thoughts on his mind; running after passengers with their forgotten belongings might just be part of his daily routine.

When he goes back home in the wee hours of the morning when his shift is done, maybe he'll recall the young mother to whom he had returned an old leather purse.

Or maybe, and this is the most likely probability, he won't remember at all.

That doesn't matter.

He's still my hero.

Why the French were Fined

Sniff

Thanks/Sorry Krome

In protest of the fine given to the French rugby team for 'defying' the revered Haka of the Kiwis by stepping a few inches across the 10-metre line in their bee-utiful brotherly arrow-march, hand-in-hand and shoulder to shoulder, here's a fabulous bit of fun photography-interpretation, while we toast in tequila to the victory of the All Blacks, and congenially slap our Froggy buddies on the back and say, "ah well, there's always next time, mates..."

Sing along with me!

Girls, if this isn't the best damn pic you've ever seen of the dashing SBW, I'd like to see its better.

Cheers!

Haaaappy birthday to meeee...

In the wise words of deah, deah Marilyn Monroe, "I'm ... 25. That's one quarter of a century. Makes a girl think."

Sure does, dude! Three cheers, and thanks to my mumsy and dad!

Message from my boss

Wouldn't you understand my screaming elation when I found the following message waiting for me in my inbox yesterday?

Hi Praise

The story you have written is so strong on its own that I've decided to release it in November as a text-only Kindle book and to promote it as much as I can while we continue to develop the interactive-illustrated app/book. I'll retail the text-only version at $0.99 and the interactive-illustrated version for a lot more. The idea is to build up word of mouth and a following before the up sell to the interactive-illustrated version comes out for the iPad.

Congratulations! You are about to become a published author on Amazon.com!

R. M-H.

Belated Pix from Danny's birthday

DANNY IS ALL HER FAULT!!! WE LOVE YOU GLORIA!!! (Best mother-in-law...)

I like to crochet, especially during parties...

There's the picada

Danny and Luchi playing a game called 'Dinosaur chatter', (can't show your teeth; first to laugh loses) while I drink my tea ... (?)

Jonny Coco, Hernan (our new friend), Danny, Santi as his Roman self, and Arla (Hernan's brazilian girlfriend)

Clara holding the Gladius, Santi the soldier, Danny, and Joella

Raucous laughter

Tacos!!

Praiso and Arla

We went to a salsa club later, had lots of fun trying to dance

The Bloody Vest

THE BLOODY VEST.

'Twas near the fair city of Benevent,

When the sun was setting on bough and bent,

And knights were preparing in bower and tent,

On the eve of the Baptist's tournament;

When in Lincoln green a stripling gent,

Well seeming a page by a princess sent,

Wander'd the camp, and, still as he went,

Inquired for the Englishman, Thomas a Kent.

Far hath he far'd, and farther must fare,

Till he finds his pavilion nor stately nor rare,—

Little save iron and steel was there;

And, as lacking the coin to pay armourer's care,

With his sinewy arms to the shoulders bare,

The good knight with hammer and file did repair

The mail that to-morrow must see him wear,

For the honour of Saint John and his lady fair.

"Thus speaks my lady," the page said he,

And the knight bent lowly both head and knee,

"She is Benevent's Princess so high in degree,

And thou art as lowly as knight may well be—

He that would climb so lofty a tree,

Or spring such a gulf as divides her from thee,

Must dare some high deed, by which all men may see

His ambition is back'd by his hie chivalrie.

"Therefore thus speaks my lady," the fair page he said,

And the knight lowly louted with hand and with head,

"Fling aside the good armour in which thou art clad,

And don thou this weed of her night-gear instead,

For a hauberk of steel, a kirtle of thread;

And charge, thus attir'd, in the tournament dread,

And fight as thy wont is where most blood is shed,

And bring honour away, or remain with the dead."

FYTTE SECOND.

The Baptist's fair morrow beheld gallant feats—

There was winning of honour and losing of seats;

There was hewing with falchions and splintering of staves—

The victors won glory, the vanquish'd won graves.

Oh, many a knight there fought bravely and well,

Yet one was accounted his peers to excel,

And 'twas he whose sole armour on body and breast

Seem'd the weed of a damsel when bound for her rest.

There were some dealt him wounds that were bloody and sore,

But others respected his plight, and forbore.

"It is some oath of honour," they said, "and I trow,

'Twere unknightly to slay him achieving his vow."

Then the Prince, for his sake, bade the tournament cease—

He flung down his warder, the trumpets sung peace;

And the judges declare, and competitors yield,

That the Knight of the Night-gear was first in the field.

The feast it was nigh, and the mass it was nigher,

When before the fair Princess low looted a squire,

And deliver'd a garment unseemly to view,

With sword-cut and spear-thrust, all hack'd and pierc'd through;

All rent and all tatter'd, all clotted with blood,

With foam of the horses, with dust, and with mud;

Not the point of that lady's small finger, I ween,

Could have rested on spot was unsullied and clean.

"This token my master, Sir Thomas a Kent,

Restores to the Princess of fair Benevent;

He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit,

He that leaps the wide gulf should prevail in his suit;

Through life's utmost peril the prize I have won,

And now must the faith of my mistress be shown:

For she who prompts knights on such danger to run

Must avouch his true service in front of the sun.

"'I restore,' says my master, 'the garment I've worn,

And I claim of the Princess to don it in turn;

For its stains and its rents she should prize it the more,

Since by shame 'tis unsullied, though crimson'd with gore.'"

Then deep blush'd the Princess—yet kiss'd she and press'd

The blood-spotted robes to her lips and her breast.

"Go tell my true knight, church and chamber shall show

If I value the blood on this garment or no."

And when it was time for the nobles to pass,

In solemn procession to minster and mass,

The first walk'd the Princess in purple and pall,

But the blood-besmear'd night-robe she wore over all;

And eke, in the hall, where they all sat at dine,

When she knelt to her father and proffer'd the wine,

Over all her rich robes and state jewels she wore

That wimple unseemly bedabbled with gore.

Then lords whisper'd ladies, as well you may think,

And ladies replied with nod, titter, and wink;

And the Prince, who in anger and shame had look'd down,

Turn'd at length to his daughter, and spoke with a frown:

"Now since thou hast publish'd thy folly and guilt,

E'en atone with thy hand for the blood thou hast spilt;

Yet sore for your boldness you both will repent,

When you wander as exiles from fair Benevent."

Then out spoke stout Thomas, in hall where he stood,

Exhausted and feeble, but dauntless of mood:

"The blood that I lost for this daughter of thine,

I pour'd forth as freely as flask gives its wine;

And if for my sake she brooks penance and blame,

Do not doubt I will save her from suffering and shame;

And light will she reck of thy princedom and rent,

When I hail her, in England, the Countess of Kent."

Extract from The Talisman, by Sir Walter Scott

Steampunk Holmes Trailer

Please view following link:

http://www.steampunkholmes.com/2011/09/steampunk-holmes-preview-of-trailer.html

And while you're at it; dig around the Steampunk Holmes website; plenty of interesting tidbits lying about.

And among other items of interest, if one googles among images for 'Steampunk Holmes', a bunch of Danny's artwork for this project pops up. Wa-hoo! Is he like, famous, or what?