Won't You Join Us for Character Interviews?

Attention! Notice! May I have, take, garner your focus? The alien, Gideon Cyrus, and myself (the Dragon Galvistor) would love to interview other characters created by scribe's of stories/books/novels. Please contact either of our scribes that they may set up the interview. Wouldn't you like to have your character speak for himself, herself, itself here? Let the world hear their voices and a bit of their story, brought forth by the clever, superior, excellent interview abilities of a quizzical alien and loquacious Dragon.

If you haven't been keeping up with Gideon and moi in our interactions/chats/pithy discussions, then stroll down now and READ! S'for your own good...

Aliens Walk Among Us...

in the form of Gideon Cyrus, a shapeshifter who's chosen a skeptical ufologist named Hannah Morgan to help him save Earth. Barbara Romo has faithfully related their exploits in Undercover Alien, out now from Crescent Moon Press. Read Gideon's take on just about everything at http://www.acuriousalien.blogspot.com

Hatching new stories...

of speculative fiction is Sherri Godsey, the obedient scribe for a gaggle of talkative dragons from her new fantasy duology: The Dragons' Veil and The Dragons' Vision. The first book, The Dragons' Veil, is available for purchase at Readers Eden (just click on the link in the list to the left). The Dragons' Vision is coming soon from Writers Exchange E-Publishing. Galvistor discusses this and more (much more) at http://thewritingdragon.blogspot.com

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

An Interview with Sir Cameron MacLeod from "A Highlander For Christmas"

Sounds of waves crashing against rocks, somewhat distant. Gulls screaming. Wind rushing around rocks, through nearby brush. Approach of thudding dragon footfalls, which stop abruptly. Two sets of human and one set of alien footfalls stop equally as abruptly, simultaneous with muttered swearing in three different languages as all avoid slamming into dragon.

[Galvistor] “Ha! An excellent choice of an interview spot/place/location! Feels much like this when I’m flying—hard wind snaking over my scales. Why I—”

[Cameron] Sound of palms hastily covering ears. “Ack! Ye’ve nay need to shout! Me hearing is perfectly sound.”

[Galvistor] Offended pause. “But I’m not shouting, old man. Human. Uh, chief, if you will. This is my normal manner of speech! Dialogue. Conversation.”

Snap of hinges as chairs are placed on sand.

[Gideon] “Here, my dear, sit there with the laptop. It’s a bit out of the wind. Sir MacLeod? I’ve got a seat for you, right here by me. Galvistor will lounge…well, wherever he wants to. Please don’t take offense at his speech. His voice just fits his size. Like…a foghorn suits a lighthouse. You do have lighthouses where you come from?”

[Cameron] “Nay, we light huge fires much like pyres on headlands.”

[Gideon] “Really? Sounds remarkably labor-intensive. But how do you--”

Loud, feminine clearing of throat.

[Gideon] “Ah, you’re right, sweetheart. First things first. Welcome back, readers. Tonight Galvistor and I have a special guest, Sir Cameron MacLeod, who is taking time out from his fascinating adventures to visit with us. Sir MacLeod, you’ve met Galvistor and me, of course, but may I introduce our assistant? She’s an essential part of our team and--”

[Galvistor] Snorts. “Devoted to that nuisance of a computer she’s forever pounding at, which is why she’s known as the Wikipedia Addict. But she’s somewhat useful/practical/functional, one supposes, since I most obviously cannot be expected to be secretarial due to my stupendous and elegant claws.” Sound of claws clicking together to emphasize sharpness.

[Gideon] “And I’m afraid I’ve never felt the need to learn to type. One can always find staff too…ah.” Embarrassed pause. “I didn’t mean it quite like that, sweetheart. Don’t pout. Uh, why don’t you help us out by describing our guest? I’m sure our readers would like a feminine viewpoint.”

[Wikipedia Addict] Sniff, then creak of chair as it’s adjusted for a better view. “Sir Cameron MacLeod has black hair and blue eyes. Um, really, really blue eyes. I mean, they’re vivid and so-so-”

Loud dragon snort.

[Wikipedia Addict] “Oh, um, yes, well, he’s wearing a pair of all-weather hiking boots, jeans and a very nice sweater which fits him…really nice, because he’s got a…um, I mean a really well built…um, you’re more than six feet tall aren’t you, Sir Muscular? I mean, Sir MacLeod?”

[Gideon] Muffled snicker. “Thank you, dear, we’ll take it from here. You’d best start recording the interview.”

Huffy pause, then rapid clicking of laptop keys.

[Gideon] “You’re around six-four and about two-twenty, aren’t you, MacLeod? And it is a fine sweater. I’m fond of well-made clothes myself.”

[Cameron] “They’re well made to be sure, and something Claire insists upon, but they’re bloody confining. I much prefer me lawn shirt and breachen file, so the air and me whatnots may move about, if you get me meaning.”

Feminine gasp. Typing slows.

[Galvistor] “I understand exactly, completely, totally your preferences, old Scot. We Dragons take great pride in allowing our, uh, reproductive systems freedom of movement and position on our anatomies. Personally, I believe restricting one’s nether regions is unnatural. Why, I recall that once—”

[Wikipedia Addict] “Um, excuse me. What’s a breachen file?”

[Cameron] “Tis five yards or more of wool plaid one wraps about one’s loins and shoulders. Keeps ye warm both day...and night.”

[Wikipedia Addict] Breathy sigh as typing slows even more. “Oh…my…”

[Gideon] “We’d better be moving on. Sir MacLeod – may I call you Cameron?”

[Cameron] “Aye.”

[Gideon] “Thank you. Cameron, we’ve heard some wonderful things about the book detailing your exploits, A Highlander for Christmas. Your writer is Sandy Blair, isn’t that right?”

[Galvistor] “Even I know of her! She’s written some excellent/admirable/ outstanding tales about Scottish humans and their romantic endeavors. Quite the story teller.”

[Gideon] “I agree. A delightful lady. Anyway, Cameron—we’re so pleased you could join us today.”

[Cameron] “’Tis my pleasure, although I must confess that speaking with a dragon and someone who claims to be of another world is a wee bit disconcerting. In any case, thank you for meeting me here…where a man can think.”

[Galvistor] Ah, don’t be disconcerted. The alien is quite civilized, as long as he maintains human form. And we equally enjoy the ocean’s edge, do we not, old alien? Why, we recently conducted a clam bake, mollusk roast, seafood barbecue on the beach. Of course, this is a tad wilder, what with the rocks and height—although I, for one, like heights/elevations/summits.”

[Cameron] “I as well. This place reminds me of my home in Scotland. Our fortress, Rubha, sat on a rocky headland much like this one.” Chair creaks as Scot leans toward Gideon to whisper. “Is yon Dragon always so… verbose?”

[Gideon] Whispers back. “Always. As if he had a thesaurus permanently implanted in his—”

[Galvistor] “How rude! My nether regions have naught to do with my elevated vocabulary. I simply choose to use language—”

[Gideon] “And excellent hearing, too.”

[Galvistor] “To use language as it was meant to be used – in profusion. A clever manner of interaction humans, and others of less erudite nature, appear to not appreciate. Sound of agitated sniff. Then…another sniff. Sound of immense body leaning forward.

[Cameron] “Mind that great snout!”

[Gideon] Sigh. “You might as well let him. It’s how he learns about other beings. He asked me to change into my alien form just after we met and then sniffed me before I could stop him. Take my advice - don’t make him sneeze. Not unless you have a complete change of clothing.”

[Galvistor] “I like your smell! A great many foodstuffs are exuding through your pores.” Deep inhalation.

[Cameron] “Hey! Mind what yer about, Dragon! I’ve nay desire to be sucked up into those cavernous holes ye call nostrils.”

[Galvistor] “I believe I recognize…hamburger, French fries…ah, one of my favorites—spaghetti! And—Cervidae!”

[Cameron] “What does the beast accuse me of eating?”

[Galvistor] “Antlered mammal, old Scot.”

[Gideon] “He means a deer.”

[Cameron] “The beast kens all of that from one sniff? Amazing.”

[Gideon] “Oh, no - whatever you do, don’t compliment him! We’ll be here all night.” Clears throat. “We need to move on, Galvistor.”

[Galvistor] Reverberating thump as great body flops back on its haunches. “Ah, yes. Our meeting. Assembly. Get-together. We’ll discuss that enticing smell of blended whisky and strawberries later.”

[Gideon] “Cameron, why don’t you tell us about yourself? I’d be especially interested to learn how you came from a fortress in ancient Scotland to present day Boston.”

[Cameron] “Well—I’m the eldest son of the MacLeod, chieftain of the clan MacLeod. The last thing I remember prior to waking naked as a newborn jay in Claire MacGregor's bedroom is my readying for war.”

Typing abruptly halts.

[Gideon] Chuckles. “Sounds embarrassing.”

[Galvistor] “Well, I continue to fail to understand this human concentration/ focus/fascination with what you call ‘nakedness’. It is merely skin/flesh/the natural exterior of your anatomy exposed. Uncovered. Free of fashion, if you will. For which I am gratified we Dragons have no need. However, this matter of awakening in a female’s bed chamber…is it not a tad inappropriate among humans for a male to access said chamber alone? Without a companion to restrain your—uh—intent? Desire? Lust?”

[Cameron] “Under normal circumstances, aye, for Claire is most definitely bonnie and I did take immediate note of her fine breasts and hurdies. But then my arrival was not the least normal.”

Sound of frantic typing.

[Wikipedia Addict] “Um, hurdies doesn’t seem to be in Wikipedia.”

[Cameron] “Hurdies, my dear, are those fine globe-shaped muscles ye happen to be sitting upon at the moment.”

[Wikipdia Addict] “Oh! My…” More rapid typing.

[Galvistor] “Oh, indeed—a new word for backside! Rear. Derriere. Tush. Hefty haunches. Buttocks!”

[Cameron] Mutters about obnoxious great mouthed beasties… “As I was saying, my last recollection was readying for war. Our liege had decided to stand with the Jacobites. Personally, I've no love for Prince Charlie, who can barely speak Scot, much less Gael, but then what our liege commands, we do. 'Tis the way of the clans.”

[Galvistor] “Ah, yes, it is difficult to be cooperative with one who does not speak your language.”

[Gideon] I’ve never had a problem with it.”

[Galvistor] “I doubt, old alien, that a singular being as you would understand the concept of clans—a familial grouping I comprehend to some extent. We Dragons, too, are closely affiliated by tribe/family/flock. However, while we are capable of cooperation, our nature obliges us be territorial. Although, truth be told, we are not of an aggressive nature—accept when forced to it.”

[Gideon] So, Cameron, being a member of a clan means you have to go to war when commanded? It must be terrifying to have so little control over your destiny.”

[Cameron] “Nay, ‘tis simply our way. We pledge fealty to our leader who in turn pledges to do all in his power to keep our lands and people safe. As for fearing battle, I'm the strongest among our clan...and truth to tell, of many more.”

[Galvistor] “I, too, am the strongest among my kin. However, superior intellect does tend to inhibit, on my part, any inclination/penchant/leaning toward display of this obvious fact.” Thoughtful sniff. “I remain…intrigued, to put it mildly, by your proclivity about interjecting yourself, unclad, into the presence of a female. Was she not disturbed?”

[Gideon] “For Alwynn’s sake, Galvistor, not this again.”

[Cameron] “Aye, Claire was a wee bit disturbed to find me looming over her. But no more so than I to find myself alive and well in the 21st century. You canna imagine my shock the first time I set sight on a car belching smoke out its ass like some crazed dragon. I had no notion of what I was dealing with.”

Alien shout of laughter, joined by feminine giggle.

[Galvistor] Crazed Dragon? See here, old chief, Scot, human of dangling ‘whatnots’! My smoke does not belch! Nor does it—any more than my language—radiate from my sphincter! Posterior. Ass!” Sounds of coughing as Galvistor demonstrates how his smoke comes out.

[Gideon] Coughing and simultaneously muffling a last snicker. “Galvistor, enough! We get the picture. Not to mention the smell.”

[Galvistor] Snap of jaws clamping shut to dispel smoke. “Very well. S’not as if I brought that subject up…humph! Crazed Dragon…”

[Gideon] “Back to what we were talking about – I’m assuming it wasn’t an especially hard blow from a broadsword that sent you several centuries into the future?”

[Cameron] “Aye, we figured out how I came to be here quick enough. 'Twas witchcraft. Aye! But—”

[Galvistor] “Witchcraft? Do you refer to magic? The supernatural? Enchantment? How exciting! Now there is a subject about which I—”

[Gideon] “We’ll explore your thoughts on the subject another time, Galvistor. Go on, Cameron, please. This is your story.”

[Cameron] “As I was saying, ‘twas my trying to go back that caused all the fuss. You see, I first thought Claire a witch and frightened her into telling me all she kenned. When she told me the Jacobites were defeated and that thousands—including my kith and kin—had died as a result, I flew into a blind rage and stormed out. When I came to me senses I knew I had to find a way back…in order to change history.”

[Gideon] “Understandable. And on top of all this, you’ve also had some difficulties with the local authorities, haven’t you?”

[Cameron] “Aye, they've way too many rules here. And let me make one thing very clear, those times I ended up in gaol were in no way fault of mine.”

[Galvistor] “Gaol? Is that old vernacular for jail? Prison? Lockup? Dungeon? Hoosegow? Peni—”

[Gideon] Sound of palm being placed firmly across snout. “I’m sure our listeners would like to know how on Libert’s…er, on Earth did you end up in jail?”

[Cameron] “The first time was after a sheriff tried to take me sword. Can ye imagine a man trying to do such?”

[Galvistor] “I almost swallowed a great sword once. Not a pleasant prospect.”

[Gideon] Muttering under his breath. “Alwynn’s fire, he’ll eat anything.” Louder. “Well, I’ve never understood why one is allowed to carry a gun but not a saber.”

[Cameron] “Neither could I. The second time, a game keep lied and said I’d assaulted him. Had I done more than take back what was mine, had I laid a hand on him I’d have likely killed the fop.”

[Galvistor] “I’d have eaten him! Although, of course, Dragons vow not to ingest a species of equitable intellect.”

Gideon clears throat in warning. Dragon snort resonates.

[Galvistor] “Sorry. Apologies. Profound regrets! Please do continue.”

[Cameron] “Trust me. T’would have given ye heartburn. And then there was that wee bit of reiving I did right before Christmas. But again ‘twas not my fault. I ask you…how was I, a man of the 18th century, to ken that they had such beasts as magic Santa reindeer? That they were pets and not meant for roasting?”

Typing pauses on feminine sound of distress.

[Wikipedia Addict] “Not Rudolph!”

[Gideon] “Shh, sweetheart. I’m sure they were…uh, generic reindeer.”

[Galvistor] “Ha! An issue I’ve contended with a time or two, myself. I love roast deer—although generally I merely swallow them whole. I believe you were maligned/libeled/ slandered in that circumstance, old Scot. Chief. Sir.”

[Gideon] “You’ve had quite a time of it, Cameron. I can’t wait to read about the rest of your exploits in A Highlander for Christmas. I did pick up a copy on my way over – it’s back in my car. Shall we take a break and…”

[Galvistor] “Oh, yes, indeed—time for a bit of repast/feast/chow and a tasty cold ale!”

[Cameron] “Aye. Wouldna mind a wee dram of whiskey meself. The wind and conversation have whet me appetite.”

[Gideon] “Then let’s go back to my place. It’s just large enough for Galvistor to squeeze in without too much damage. I have some excellent imported Scots spirits you might like, Cameron. And of course enough protein on hand for a dragon. We can have a few drinks and a cookout. Come on, sweetheart, let’s pack up.”

Tapping of keys as computer is shut down. Metallic rattles as chairs are folded and stacked.

[Cameron] “Please, mistress, I’ll carry your chair and you can handle your wee black box.”

[Wikipedia Addict] Breathy sigh. “Thank you so much.”

[Galvistor] “I do believe your assistant is going to over-oxygenate her system. Blood. Brain.”

[Gideon] Dryly. “Come along, sweetheart. Try to breathe more slowly…”

Sound of heavy Dragon tread and rasp of tail over sand. Lighter human and alien footfalls following.

[Cameron] “T’was not what I expected, this meeting with a non-human and a beast as grand as a ship. Most civilized, ye are.”

[Galvistor] “Oh, yes! Dragons are the epitome of refined manners. Now… do explain about that overwhelming smell/scent/stench of ripe strawberries wafting from your manly human flesh…”

[Gideon] Even more dryly. “And thus you have an example of a Dragon’s verbal sophistication.”

[Cameron] “I dinna mind explaining. You see after spending my first night in Boston’s goal I came out smelling a bit…ripe. In Claire’s bathroom I found a bottle of red liquid. She said I was to use it to wash me hair. Being a man I’ve hair all over, so...

Voices and footfalls fade out.

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Where our first interview took place

Where our first interview took place
Now really, does this look uncomfortable to you?

The coastal headland where we interviewed Cameron MacLeod

The coastal headland where we interviewed Cameron MacLeod
A wee bit windy, aye, but the Scotsman likened it to his home ground. I think his whatnots got plenty of airing, in spite of the restriction of pants. In any case, even such an old Dragon as I found it beautiful out there.