The State of Various Projects.

Resistance Screenplay - Finished and being shopped

Resistance Novel - Available on amazon.com

Out There in the Infinite - In Progress

Guardians Vol 1. - Proposals being extended to agencies. Release date pushed back.

The Longest Thaw Screenplay - In progress, contingent upon sale of Resistance SP

Turning Point Novel - In Progress

Ten Years Gone Novel - In Progress.

The Great Sky Wizard - Running and fucking awesome. Will be converted.

Release Date Issues

I likely wont make the previously mentioned March 2013 release date for my next book due to some unforeseen complications. However, anyone who wants to read the first 50 pages or so can.  Just keep in mind that it's a very early manuscript so there may be errors.

ERMHAGERD!!

March 1, 2013 is the official launch date for the Guardian's of the Deepest Light saga: Volume 1

The novel will launch exclusively for Amazon's Kindle and Kindle Prime service along with Cory's other work.

Keep hitting F5 for more updates or check his Twitter (@CoryMcCoy) or facebook fan page (http://www.facebook.com/CoryLMcCoy)

New Amazon Author Rankings

I'm in the top 750,000!  woo..  please for the love of god buy my book :P

Resistance 2nd Edition now available

Second Edition of The War Journals: Resistance has been uploaded to amazon.  New cover and (hopefully) fixed formatting issues.  give it 24 hours to update

http://www.amazon.com/The-War-Journals-Resistance-ebook/dp/B00896X0AY/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1339913516&sr=8-3&keywords=cory+mccoy

Guardians sample chapter!

Chapter (??)

Contradicting Accounts

“You've committed atrocities upon my peaceful people, Almuric.” The Grand Chief KenKota snarled. “You've stolen from us and raped our women, children, and lands.”

“Five years to this day.” Almuric whispered, bending down inches from KenKota's tanned, mud smeared face. “I offered you this island. You refused me, what would you have me do?”

“Assume your false title, you commanded me.” KenKota replied, backing away. “Almuric the Just. Candova, he who has brought peace to the seven islands. I ask you now, is this what you call peace? You've lust for power has destroyed the homes of thousands of my tribe. Are these crystals worth the lives you litter upon the way side?”

“Silence!” Condova bellowed, his massive frame was intimidating and menacing, even while his armor sparkled and so many saw him as their savior-king. “No one king rules the new lands, not I nor you. You have the right to dissent and I have graciously agreed to meet you in battle. Would that I did not have to, but you will not bend to reason.”

“Name the stakes, my king.” Sneered KenKota, sure of his victory over the massive red-headed warrior from the rolling plains of the Old World.

“Everything.” Candova growled, his deep voice rumbling through the crowd as he bellowed.

“So be it.” KenKota replied, he had not expected this. Why would the High King of all the new lands risk everything in a battle to the death over the smallest of his tributaries?

“For the honor of Agmoria and the Elder races who preside over it.” Candova said, snatching his great mace from his squire. The boy was larger than a massive man himself, although he was considerably less bearded.

With that Candova leapt forward, swiftly closing the distance. KenKota let out a primal shriek, his incredible red-veined crystal burned brightly. Nightmarish screams pierced the air as he called the Rekota Falcons from their nests. The massive birds of prey feverishly flapped their wings, all hurtling toward the High King.

Without warning, Almuric stopped and slammed his mace headfirst into the ground, thirty massive obsidian birds ripped from the distant cliffs. They flew swiftly, their larger wings quickly gaining on the living birds. With a sickening, primal screech from KenKota's birds and violent rumbling, echoing from Candova's golems, the birds slammed upon each other mid air.

Blood sprayed through the air as the thirty golems began to overpower the fifty something great-birds. KenKota saw his advantage slipping and drew his bow. As he trained his poisoned arrows upon the High-King's throat, he summoned forth twenty sand adders, their long powerful scales ripping up through the sand.

Candova was startled, caught off guard by an adversary more powerful than he had anticipated. As the adders snapped forth at his feet, he swung his mighty club, smashing skull after skull before clenching his gauntleted hand into a tight fist. With an innocuous hand gesture, a stone hydra burst forth sending the snakes flying away from him.

“I underestimated you.” Almuric admitted as the hydra fought the remaining snakes, neither side gaining an advantage as the deadly fangs broke through the rock throats of his hydra. “You've asked me many times to think of your people.”

“Yet you never did, we were never equal to the 'civilized' peoples.” He cried, flinging his small wand around, still battling the hydra. In the distance a thundering of hoofs charged through the forest. They were not yet close enough to take advantage of.

“I will not ask you again Chief KenKota.” Almuric bellowed, running forward smashing the faces of the snakes, even as his hydra struggled to killed the last few. “Join the council and give your people a voice... Or die!”

“I would choose an eternity of nothingness over permitting you leave to violate our lands!” He replied as his herd of gargantuan boars emerged, each taller than an elephant, stormed forth ripping down the trees that led to the clearing they fought in. Hundreds of war-boars thundered forth, ready to rip Candova into pieces at KenKota's command.

“So be it.” Candova replied, his heart heavy with sorrow. He drew himself up to his full height, without the slightest glance toward the boars thundering toward him, shaking the earth.

“You're a fool Almuric.” The confident chief told him as his pigs came close, ready to kill the dauntless king.

“Perhaps I was.” Candova replied, the sense of sadness and honesty echoing through his soft reply. Only a handful even heard him. “Perhaps I always will be.”

Candova looked on as the boars thundered toward him, ready to meet his fate. He was ready, but knew his time had not yet come. His eyes met KenKota's. In an instant Chief KenKota had realized his mistake, but was helpless against the High King.

The earth around them erupted, the pigs fell hundreds of feet down, along with many thousand bystanders. Only KenKota and Candova were left standing within a hundred foot circle. There was now a gaping hole around them, where the innocent had stood watching their battle. The displaced earth rose thousands of feet into the air forming the face of a great demonic face. It paused for a brief moment before crashing down violently upon KenKota, destroying any foolish hope his people had ever known.

“I will never forgive myself, old friend” Almuric said to himself as he formed an enormous eagle to carry him away from the hell and devestation he had created. He had just killed the closest thing to an equal he would ever know.

Rage. Death. Vengeance.

Everyone must die, the boy's mind screamed as he clawed his way back to the surface. He clawed at the sand and palm tree roots with the ferocity of a mad-man. After hours, which seemed like years, the boy pulled himself onto solid ground.

So very tired. He faded, his mind melting as his body gave way. The hours bled into eternity before the boy finally awoke. His dark skin aflame with the heat of the sun. This had once been a clearing, but now there was nothing but a mesa bordered by darkness. Only one soul had survived the destruction wrought by the two most ambitious sorcerers on the planet.

He crawled forward, his instincts taking him to the center of this new plateau. He kept grabbing, scratching, desperately pulling forward. He had never known such pain or thirst. Finally, he reached the center, his long fingernails scratching some new, unfamiliar surface. His mind gave way, the boy was lost to the world. He was dead, but could not pass son. He lingered for months on end, unable to move, speak, or even think.

After what seemed like decades, the screech of a distant gull made its way from the deltas of a wide river. It flew high over the plateau, unsure of what it was seeing. Somehow, it knew to dip low toward the dying figure and drop it's huge beak full of water.

And so it did. As did the the rest of its distant relatives. Eventually the water pooled around the boy, and the soft splashes of frolicking birds awoke him.

He struggled to open his eyes, panicking as he hallucinated. Surely there wasn't a flying squirrel trying to force him to drink water from a broken coconut. Yet, that is exactly what it was. And so this boy regained his strength in what would someday become the Island of Exile. Except, in his time there were no benevolent friends, only heat and deadly pests snapping at criminal's heals.

After many weeks, the boy had learned to manipulate his animal friends. He had found a dark blood-red, crystal the size of his fist. He knew that he could use this rock to manipulate the daft creatures to obey him. In time he learned to command any animal he encountered and eventually left the island on the crest of a death-hawk.

Twenty years passed and no one wondered what had happened to this miscreant. Twenty years he wandered the wilderness, conquering beast after beast. Eventually he could command an Ent to fight a mammoth and neither would question his dominance. He owned these inferior creatures. Occasionally he would encounter his own kind. He couldn’t manipulate them, so he made the beasts kill them.

He was an exceedingly clever boy. He followed the animals and found the game trails. He knew how to command even hydras, the beasts from hell. In his mind, the boy knew he could control any dumb beast.

One day, the boy swore, he would have a dragon. One with power and rage flowing from the eyes, as the dark paint of his people's memory bled from his.

The first book in The War Journals series is now for sale!

http://www.amazon.com/The-War-Journals-Resistance-ebook/dp/B00896X0AY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338974680&sr=1-2

Resistance

The War Journals: Resistance will be available on Amazon starting tomorrow for $2.99.

I don't use Microsoft word when I write, so there may be some formatting errors.  Please let me know if you find any and I will have them corrected immediately.

swtor

Tolerance is simply not enough.

Tolerance by itself does not make you a good person, it makes you indifferent. We must strive to live a life of kindness and welcome unification.

The Easy Way Out

Every day is agony
Every step is a dagger plunging into me
No longer do I wish carry on
When a handful is just as effective
As a beautiful piece of lead
I wont still suffer this pain
When ive the nerve to
Take a few too many
The laughable means ive been given to cope
Will provide me a way through the smoke
Sometimes I think id rather suffer under Styx' brutal current
Than carry on for another moment

HEY!!

I've had quite an upswing in views lately, but some are coming from my personal FB account. Who is it? Send me a msg on FB :D

Hell

Hell is accountability, having to forgive and be forgiven by everyone you've ever done wrong or has wronged you. Including yourself. Why? Because most people will never have enough courage to adequately practice ether in a single lifetime.

We can be better, but we choose not to be. We drink, ravage, and piss our lives away all in a vain attempt to ignore these things. Because of this doubt and guilt, we do not believe that we deserve piece of mind.

There is not nearly enough kindness in this world, our selfishness simply won't allow it.

Today is not the day to say, I can be a better person tomorrow.

Not all of us will be given a tomorrow, and only the Universe truly knows which ones.

Every story has an ending.

And this one does before I finished the rest. Hopefully not too much longer on the meat and I will be submitting it along with Resistance. Let's pray that one gets picked up.

update

I've been pretty damn quiet lately. Sometimes the lack of noise is good. Sometimes the lack of people is better.

I recently submitted a treatment to Stan Lee's POW! Entertainment and am eagerly awaiting a response to that. After a suggestion by a peer reader, I will also be trying my hand at script writing.

The Prophecy (as told before the centuries tainted and twisted its words)

Seven hundred years might pass.
Tyrannys reign for nearly two centuries shall pass.
The life of superior men grows longer.
While the rest of the world will fade and wander.

As the shadow of death grows ever near.
The evil king will learn to fear
The stars once more will brightly glow.
With it will come warriors nearly invulnerable.

As the Dark King, the dragons false friend, looks helplessly on
He will behind to dread this dawn
Upon the old shores where no elder dares to walk
His crown will be the least of what this army sought.

Rough draft, gives a good idea of what the world is like

An Introduction to Current Ruler of The Agmorian Empire





The Agmorian Empire comprises of the 52 kingdoms under the rule of the Agmorian High Kings. These eight High Kings, one from each of the Agmorian-held Islands, are something of a council led by The High King of the continent island of Agmoria proper. High King Senlo Karath is a fearsome man, commanding respect of both his council and any foolish enough to have met him on the battle-fields. At nearly two hundred years of age, his life has been substantially prolonged by the influence of his magic. He is the eldest of the High Kings and by far the most powerful. Karath wields the rare prismatic channeling stone, which he personally recovered from a rather large dragon's lair. When asked how he obtained it, Karath usually replies, “The creature no longer has any use for trinkets...”.

Only a handful of prismatic crystals are known to exist. High King Karath's personal crystal is the size of a man's fist and sits atop a terrifying looking staff, forged for him by the Dark Light Guardians. The staff itself was slightly over 6 feet long, made of a dark metal with the crystal sitting between three talon-like blades, which split off to surround the crystal and form a two foot long blade at the top. The constant shifting of the prismatic colors had distracted many a fool greedy enough to think they could make it their own.

Karath was notorious for impaling opponents before shooting a blast of energy through them. It was particularly messy. He seemed to take great joy from performing this maneuver. The most famous instance being the battle in which he overthrew his predecessor.

Senlo Karath, or Karath the Destroyer as he was then known, had agreed to meet The High King Candova Almuric the Just in single combat. The victor would decide which faction won the third, and final, Almurian war. When they met in battle, Karath was barely thirty years of age. His opponent was well into his 120th year of reign after taking the throne at age 60. Almuric was at an age most men would never see, but he still possessed a vitality common among great sorcerors. Unlike Karath, Almuric did battle with a great mace. The great mace was heavy, but not as encumbering as one would expect, the alloy was only slightly more than half the weight of normal steel and gleamed bright white in the sun. He had taken the mace from a half giant more than a century before. It had seemed small for a giant, but The High King struck an imposing figure with it in his hands. More important, was the stone embedded into a black gauntlet with spiked knuckles, which he wore on his right hand. The stone was black and oily, the slight colors constantly moving across the surface.

Candova Almuric, was a northmen. A hardy race of people said to have grown larger in the north because they had to wrest their lands from the giants. His chest broad, an impressive silver and red breastplate adorning it. His armor rose into spikes from his shoulders, to keep the giants from trying to stomp the warriors of the north.

Karath had the looks of the nomadic tribes that controlled much of the eastern shores of Agmoria. He was around six feet tall with oily skin and jet black hair. At the time he carried a staff nearly identical to the one he uses today, with the exception of the alloy. He wore light, pitch-black armor consisting of leather leggings with metallic guards and a tight flexible black breastplate, open on his arms except for wrist cuffs. His arms and face with streaked with war paint, standing in stark contrast to the armor he bore. He was completely unknown to nearly all in the Empire until he began to raise an army using terrifying demonstrations of the power he possessed.

It was just before sunset as the two warriors prepared for battle. The twin moons were close together, they would soon overlap. The faint outline of Loz, the neighboring planet, loomed far in the distance. The King would meet his Challenger on the field outside of New Quodus, the capital city of the Agmorian Empire. The field was huge, miles across. It was perfect for a battle between these two powerful adversaries.

As the mighty opponents rushed forth across the serene lawn, massive armies hundreds of yards behind them both, Almuric thrust forth his gauntlet. The ground in front of him began splitting and rising, moving faster than he could run. When the pile of broken land reached a mans height it took form, shaping itself into a menacing golem, charging toward Karath. As the golem closed in, a dozen more began rushing out of the ground behind it.

Karath broke his stride, slamming his staff into the ground with the first golem only yards away. The prismatic crystal sent energy flying in a cone before him, shattering the closest five golems into pieces. Almuric continued his advance, commanding the pieces to reform into one massive thirty foot tall golem, the other seven moving to surround The Destroyer. Karath pulled his staff from the earth. He swung it in a wide twisting circle, before planting it once more. The crystal burst into a ball of light, blasting outward all around him destroying the golems who had moved in to attack.

Almuric had reached his foe, the massive golem rising from its knees behind him. The king leapt into the air bringing his mace ferociously down upon his foe. Karath attempted to block, but the force of the blow broke his staff in two, forcing him to the ground. The King swung upward and around to strike again as Karath scrambled to his feet. He brought the next blow in hard from the right. The destroyer bellowed violently sending a projection of energy into the King's chest. Almuric was sent flying through the air, some 20 yards or more. His mace flew from his hand as he attempted to twist himself to absorb the fall.

Karath wasted no time, he summoned a huge mass of swirling fire. He raised his broken staff above his head, ready to hurl the inferno at his enemy. He arched his back slightly and flung the staff forward, aiming the fireball. Unfortunately, he had not dealt with the gargantuan golem, which kicked him hard in the chest. Karath attempted to summon a force field of energy. He had reacted too slowly, the energy served only to cushion the blow as he was punted nearly four hundred yards back. The fire ball dissipated with a sudden wisp as he summoned forth a large bubble of water to break his fall.

As he hit the bubble, slowing his fall and landing on his feet, it rushed into the air flying toward the golem. The water froze and turned into a giant spike of ice, Karath sprinting behind it. The two opponents rushing toward each other once more. From the ground sprung a massive war hammer and shield, summoned forth by Almuric for his construct. The golem quickly grabbed his gifts, moving at an incredible speed. The Destroyer swung his staff frantically about while rushing forward. Lightning leapt from his staff, striking wildly about. The golem absorbed it, unharmed. Karath bellowed as he swung the shortened staff in a half circle, sending an incredible burst of energy toward the construct. The golem swiftly rose his shield to block it. The force of the blast shattered the shield and the golems arm up to the elbow. Undeterred it swung the war hammer down toward Karath, ready to strike a death blow. Just then, the massive spear of ice slammed into the golems chest yanking it from its feet. The massive body falling toward the ground, about to crush it's creator. The golem fell to pieces, sending a torrent of rubble in it's place. The ice shattered as it fell behind the rubble. A huge chunk slammed into the king, leveling him.

Karath was no longer running. He strode forward confidently with violence in his eyes. He held his staff low, as if he would not need it to finish the High King.

“The battle is not yet won, Destroyer” Growled the High King. His face contorting with rage, even behind his greying red beard.

“Many years ago, you ended the last war when you defeated the Chieftan of the nomadic tribes in the grasslands of Galneka. He met you nobly, in single combat much like we have done today. Do you remember that battle?” Senlo Karath, bastard son of the last Galnerian warrior chief, asked. His gaze meeting the High King's. Their eyes burning with magic, no longer colored like normal men, but a reflection of their stones.

“Of course I remember, boy.” He responded, momentarily feeling fear for the first time in more years than he could remember. He clenched his armored fist, feeling the power surge through his body. Candova Almuric was larger than Karath. Surely he looked intimidating with the sun beginning to set behind him. He cut a striking figure he thought, as the High King should on the battle-field. The Destroyer looked just as menacing, his long black hair had fallen wildly. His chest now bare and well muscled, with blood streaking through his war paint. Only fools forsake armor, even in today’s battles Almuric thought to himself, as he had many times before.

“I remember it well,” He sneered. “I was just a boy, watching helplessly as my father fought a god-like warrior, clearly outmatched. Your constructs destroying the animals he controlled. You offered him mercy... I will not offer it to you.”

“I knew he would not accept it,” The High King replied, tiring of this conversation. “And I will never accept the mercy of a man who destroys the innocent.”

Karath swung his staff upward, the king threw his gauntlet as if he would strike him. A golem leapt forth, with a huge toothy mouth and long clawed hands. Karath sent a blindingly bright blast of energy forth, it tore through the golem as it pounced upon him. Almuric screamed in agony as the energy struck his gauntlet. He dropped his mace, grabbing at his hand. The Destroyer focused another blast, directly into the king's crystal. The energy poured forth, with the king on his knees helplessly, trying to get the gauntlet off as the energy seared through the metal melting into his hand and arm. Finally the crystal exploded, leaving a gaping hole in the molten metal on the kings arm.

Karath walked slowly toward him, the king now gawking at his disfigured arm. He pointed the staff at him, a blast of ice springing out, cooling the metal.

“Why?” The High King Candova Almuric the Just asked, unsure of what he was asking. Unsure of what had happened and how he had been defeated. He could not understand how this vagabond had managed to strip him of his power. He looked up to meet the gaze of the destroyer, his own eyes a dull grey as they had once been when he was a child. Karath smiled wickedly as he plunged the staff's blade into the king's gaping mouth and out the back of his head.

“Kneel!” He bellowed at the dead man's army, which had moved slowly forward to confirm their king's defeat. They moved begrudgingly to their knees, looking on in horror as a massive blast of energy burst from the staff, still in Almuric's mouth.

Templars (tentative title)

It has been 698 years since the world of Dangoria was torn asunder. In that time entire empires have rose and fell. Wars have swept across every continent and ordinary people have discovered the source of their new found magic and bent it to their will.

The Prophecy of the Templars says that exactly 700 years after the heavens burned, a new race of warriors would rise to take back their power. These warriors are believed to be impervious to both the new magic and the old, dark magic.

Their enemies will be numerous and undoubtedly powerful. There are many with an interest in destroying them before they attain their full potential.

In an age where life spans have more than doubled, fear of the Templars set in long ago. 550 years after the fires, the High Kings of Agmoria began the ritualistic cleansing of all children born with the slightest resemblance of a deep magic.

The Dark Light Guardians were re-purposed. They no longer acted as king makers and war council. The Guardians were branded traitors to the empire and went into hiding in order to ensure the prophecy be fulfilled. Their new mission to guard the Templars, so that they might learn to harness their power and destroy the tyrannical rulers of Agmoria.

Across the Great Ocean, in the Old Lands of the Felinra the mighty cat-like people prepare for war. Their fleet of airships nearly complete, they move to cross the Great Ocean for the first time in 3,000 years.

All Felinra are born of the Deep Magic. Their race was formed on the eve of the First Sundering of the heavens, before that they more closely resembled enormous house cats than the graceful warrior people they have become.

The old races once controlled the lands of the Felinra, before finally losing their grip and being driven across the seas. The Felinra were once no more than dignified slaves and mercenaries indentured to their superior humanoid masters. As the race of cat-men grew into maturity, their intelligence continued to increase as well until the time came that they no longer needed the old races to function as a society.

The Great Wars ravaged most of the known world for over 300 years before the old races conceded to leave the Felinra homelands in favor of the lands across the Great Ocean. Their new lands were not as harsh and weren't covered in jungles. The climates cooler and more forgiving on their weaker bodies. Though they had lost the war, they often claimed that they had been blessed with a more bountiful prize than the savages.

Creativity

I just got home from a midnight screening of Green Lantern and it got my thinker to thunking. Creativity is the driving force in my life. It's what makes me feel special, it's what comforts me when nothing else does, and it's what makes the world a better place for so many people.

Here are some questions on my mind

1) If you could make a construct out of sheer willpower for any reason, what would you make and why?

2)What single thing/series of things has had the most creative influence in your life?

3) What is your muse?

4) what do you want out of life?