Fae, aka Crown Princess Aimee Adrianna of the Guardian Rings

Posh, Warrior Princess, Faerie, Witch, Succubus and the worlds worst driver... 

I am, as you may know, attempting to portray 'Of Demons and Blue Moons‘ central character, Fae, as a complex individual.

She is exceedingly old, wise with the years, a walking encyclopaedia, and outstandingly beautiful, appearing to be any age between 19 and 29, depending on her mood and circumstances.

Fae is also the possessor of longevity and extreme libido whilst being unburdened by inhibition. Quite apart from moonlights Achilles heel, Fae is desperately lonely, a feature she hides well. The cause of the loneliness is her longevity and others lack of it. She has been in love five times and five times, she has stood beside a grave as a loved one’s coffin was lowered inside.

Fae is very posh and proper on the surface, a very ladylike young woman styled on the 1920s and 1930s.

As a half Faerie and half Succubus, she can feed off either sexual energy or extremely large meals. She prefers the former as it also goes some way in assuaging the loneliness, seducing strangers in doorways and alleyway, constant one-night stands that do not allow for affection from either her or from her partners.

Combat wise, she would hand any ten Bruce Lees their arse in nought seconds flat. However, her mother, Lilith, has her outmatched and nor can Fae see the Shadow Demons that Lilith and the devil have created.

Fae is destined to be the mother of the Shadow Demon to rule all Shadow Demons, and also the human ruler who will lead mankind to its own destruction, at least if the devil and Lilith have their way.

She is often called ‘Slut’ but I want her to be ‘Hedonist’ in a reader’s opinion

Cerberus is Fae’s father, but he was turned into the hellhound later, as punishment for allowing Lilith to seduce him.

 Dragon's, demons, lusty warriors, both male and female, strippers, supermodels, a satyr dwarf stalker and a former Royal Marine, they are all to be found within the pages.

It will be ready for publication very soon!

Andy Farman

Cover by Sanju Nivangune

Interiors by Piero Vettori
Models: Katya Clover and Tracey Elvik

'Fae' by Vettori

'Cerberus' by Vettori

Fae, the Devil's Advocate dress and the Shisha-no-Ken belly chain.

The 'Inverted Griffin' of 'Cassandra's Spears'

The 'Kraken' of Erik Voldargamar's 'Kraken 100'

Fae's  'Fleur Di Lis with Paw faction' of the Royal House of Ring

Katya Clover as 'Clover' the dragon rider

Interior illustration from my forthcoming supernatural novel 'Of Demons and Blue Moons'
Original interior art by Piero Vettori
Original cover art - Sanju Nivangune
Model - Katya Clover 2Clovers (NSFW)
Dragon - 'Stumble Fish' an absolute softie, really he is.

Stumble Fish followed suit at Fae’s first thought. Female rider's mind
control over male dragons was equal to that of the male riders and
female dragons. Conversely, the female dragons were smaller and mature
male dragons did not take kindly to puny male riders ordering them
about. In another season, Song Singer would begin to resent male
rider's commands. A female rider could never successfully control a
female dragon as the dragon regarded all other females of any species
as rivals. Female dragons were very territorial and more than a few
had sought out their mate’s rider, killed and eaten her.
Their heads were big, but that was due to thick bone, not grey matter.

From two hundred feet up, Fae saw a slight movement in rocks above the
canyon and the dragon swung right so as not to alert it by casting a shadow over its way.
Stumble Fish spread its wings wide and landed lightly, on the far side of an
outcropping.
Fae quickly removed her chaps and boots before releasing the leather
ties securing her hunting bow and quiver of arrows. The heavy oak war
bow and bodkin tipped arrows were overkill for what she now intended
to stalk. She next removed the belly chain, she would not need the
katana but the tinkling of the jewels and sparkle of gold and gems did
not lend itself to clandestineness. The warrior souls entered her with
expectation, as they always did, but she sheathed the long blade and
hung it down her back by its strap, safely out of the way.
Slipping noiselessly to the ground,naked but for her weapons, Fae ran around the side of the
outcrop that was still in shadow, her feet making no sound
despite the silence of the desert. Once she had gone, Stumble Fish
stepped over the canyons lip, gliding down the rest of the way to join
Song Singer and Scott.

Sample 'Shaw, Lt - USMC'

On their own, a minefield and barbed wire entanglements would not keep a VC or NVA sapper out of the fire-base lines, it would just slow them down. It took alert men with guns, booby traps and trip flares to achieve that.

Night did not bring any relief from the mortars; it joined forces with them to provide cover to the sappers who may soon attempt to infiltrate the perimeter.

Schermuly, mortar and artillery illumination rounds, plus flares dropped by ‘Spooky’ helped to aid the defenders but the light from the flares was, of course, also of assistance to the enemy, in particular to his snipers.

Earlier in the day, the enemy had mortared the flanks of the fire-base, dropping HE rounds upon the slopes until they noted the lack of secondary explosions. The impossibility of having a mined, cover-free, kill zone in a fertile jungle setting was presenting itself as a problem for security once more.

For the previous four hours, the enemy had largely concentrated his fire between the western and northern sides of the perimeter. The occasional round would land somewhere else but generally the pressed men of the ARVN company elsewhere on the perimeter counted their blessings. The same could not be said of the veterans, those advisors, Montagnards and visiting troops with a previous war, or a fire-fight or ten, under their belts, these men did not get to call themselves veterans by accepting given situations at face value. The enemy was up to something.

The Empire Quartet was waiting at a small gap in the sandbags on the south-east side of the perimeter. It was, in effect, a modern day sally port, a secure entryway through the fortifications. Only wide enough for one man to squeeze through at a time it was near invisible from the outside. A weighted frame, wrapped in barbed wire and bedecked with nails acted as the ‘door’, one that could only be opened from the inside. None of the men wore webbing equipment or carried firearms; they were armed with various edged weapons. WW1 era trench knives served the two sons of ANZAC, these knives incorporated a knuckleduster and a sharp, bone penetrating, stud on the hilt for cracking skulls. The trench knives made Peter’s Fairbairn/Sykes fighting knife and Dip’s Kukri seem positively civilised in comparison.

With all visible skin blacked out with camouflage cream they waited in the darkness next to a fighting position manned by a trio of the largely untrained ARVN troops who had been foisted upon 'Ben' Gunn.

The moon was about to slip below the horizon but by its light Dip could see the nearest ARVN soldier’s eyes, which were wide and fearful. In a way, Dip Rai sympathised with the men who had been dumped here because they expendable and their high command apparently expected the fire-base to fall. It was the unspoken policy of the general staff to follow President Diem’s wish to preserve the best troops and equipment for use against internal coup attempts, not military incursions by hostile external forces.

Most of the ARVN at Fire-base Zara were getting it into their heads that it was sink or swim, time to fight or die, not hide amongst the villagers as a few had attempted before the civilians were evacuated.

Beyond them, over the sandbag wall and wire, lay the dark hillside that sloped away until it met the jungle. The intervening ground was their kill zone, which the manuals stated should be prepared by the clearance of undergrowth and the removal of any natural undulations or folds in the ground that may offer cover to an enemy. Even before mortaring had left shell holes to hide in there had been a foot high growth of grass and plant life taking hold. It was not a lot of cover for attacking infantry but it was ample for a stealthy man to approach the perimeter.

The defenders remained alert and expended schermuly para-illuminators at infrequent intervals but unfortunately the distinctively loud crack of the percussion cap igniting the propellant is then followed by a sky rocket ‘whoosh’, accompanied by a trail of sparks, giving three seconds warning that it is going to get bright for at least forty seconds. By the time the flare is alight beneath its tiny parachute the enemy is already hugging the ground.

Replacing the trip flares and booby-traps that the mortaring had destroyed was the fire-bases best insurance against surprise intrusions.

Armageddon's Song, Volume 6, Artwork

As my map illustrations did not find universal favour in the previous volumes I have stretched my art skills a bit in a couple of instances in order to put a face to some of the aircraft in the prequel that younger readers may never have heard of:

Why Apple are failing to sell books.

Removal of the 'Map Illustrated' editions.

Unfortunately it is just not possible to view anything other than the most basic of maps on a small screen. Kindle may allow you to upload a file of 200MB in size but they then compress it and picture definition and resolution suffer accordingly. Apple only permit a maximum upload of 10MB which is half the size of the map illustrated book files, so there is the same state of affairs in existence if you reduce the quality before uploading.

I do apologise to those who complained to Amazon but you seem to have forgotten that each book is a novel, not an Atlas, the maps were to enhance the story, not the other way around.
The maps will remain in the hardcover and paperback versions of course, but until some software is invented that gives good quality graphics at a low byte count the maps will not return to the electronic books.
Sorry!

Sample: 'Of Demons and Blue Moons'

The beat of wings grew closer, no longer gliding silently out of the night sky and suddenly a naked and heart-stoppingly beautiful woman alighted, though a touch heavily, upon the roadway. Great bat wings, one sliced deeply enough by Fae’s blade to prevent any further gliding, remained partly open, dripping blood from the wound and a forked tail flicked in a feline display of ill-temper. The gloss of her jet black hair held an electric blue tinge that exactly matched her eyes. She walked in the identical fashion to which Fae walked, with a sinuous roll of the hips and a gentle bounce of firm breasts that was completely provocative, even if the sideways glance this young woman treated Scott to was one of unveiled contempt.

She looked somehow familiar…?

 As she passed Scott he saw that she also wore upon her right buttock the same mark that Fae carried upon hers. Their bodies were almost identical, aside from tan and colouration, and even their age, though hard to judge, seemed similar.

Scott expected Fae to leap into the attack but instead she merely stood poised to defend herself, allowing the raven haired vision of deadly beauty to stride by unmolested as she approached the flung trident. 

As if he had suddenly been doused in ice water the shock of recognition came to him. That hair, those eyes, that face and body, the girl’s blatant ‘on-heat’-stride, performed as if upon a fashion house catwalk, but he could only point stupidly, open mouthed, for a moment.

“Isn't that…?”

“Yes,” Fae cut in. “One’s mother.”