Sworded Tales

Cheskith had settled back somewhat from the fire to eat, the better to allow others access to the ready meal. He wasn’t rushing to the same extent as Kurn, though, and thus had to interrupt his only partially finished dining to attend to this new question.

“The watches, they have been settled? If this is as yet undone, then I would prefer the first, I think, but can settle for any,” he spoke, addressing whomever seemed to have been drawn to the topic.

Gathering from the looks around the camp that they had not yet been settled, and not wanting it to be a long drawn-out discussion of merits — a discussion that could readily cut into everyone’s needed rest for the day ahead — Kurn nodded tersely to Cheskith’s statement and looked to everyone else, “Fine; any other preferences?” Continue reading

“The hierarchy of the Purification has yet to reveal itself,” Erellia responded, “Though I suspect their primary dealings are intertwined with one of the darker gods.  A reduction in arcane energies throughout the lands would certainly give more sway to those who wield the blessings of their deity.  Several encounters have been reported where priests have been seen among the ranks of the hunters, though whether that is coincidence or collaboration is uncertain.”

She fell silent for a moment in thought.  “The sheer potency of the hunters’ fanaticism is also quite disturbing.  Rarely have I ever seen such single minded determination.  Once an individual joins the Purification, they seem to lose something of themselves to the whole.”

Then more quietly she added, “Which is why no one has yet been able to successfully infiltrate their ranks.” Continue reading

Rôhn’s eyes widened and affixed on the glistening green jewel, appraising it.  His jaw slackened and his tongue lolled, loosening its vice on the stem of his pipe, which rested on his dried and cracking bottom lip and would have fallen to the ground had the pipe bowl not been perched upon his fingertips.

“Oooohhhhhh….” he muttered as his eyes sparkled in time with the glistening of the jade amidst a shroud of slowly rising smoke billowing from the burning leaf. Continue reading

“Come along you sanctimonious nag,” Qualen Findrow said to the obstinate horse in his delightful sing-song tone.  There were those in the small town of Havenfork that whispered about Qualen’s facility with horses, that he had otherworldly powers.  He had poo-pooed such nonsense over his years of driver work, but he suspected that his ability to guarantee a timely delivery was all that kept him from being run off.

Mostly due to the Centaurs in the area.  Constant raids and bands of four-legged brigands interrupted trade routes all along the Savanche Coast.  Life was becoming increasingly unbearable for many of the inhabitants, but Qualen wasn’t one of them.  The Centaurs avoided him like the plague, and no one knew why. Continue reading

The clarity of the clearing was what struck Anibel first, when all else had been fragmented and fuzzy since her fall.  She could see that sea of chaos in the offing, but it was being held at bay.  Standing stones rose from the lucid terrain, and she sensed that the carved sentinels were what created this sanctuary.

Figures emerged from behind the stones.  Anibel remained still as they approached.  Twice her size, no distinct gender was evident as they drew closer.  She could see no raiments upon their glowing frames, but the ghostly outline of weapons materialized.  She grew concerned for her current well-being at the sight. Continue reading

Cheskith came through the battle unscathed, and the walking and adrenaline have limbered him up to the point that he was no longer in danger of toppling; having a fire drive back the chill didn’t hurt either, though the conversation that went back and forth caused him to reassess the purpose of it.

Since the others were engaged in mending one another or sorting through the leavings, Cheskith chose to place himself as sentry, adopting a northeasterly spot from the fire that allowed him a vantage over Haron and the horses as well as a reasonable view of the other approaches; however welcome it might have been in some regards, fire was likely to attract attention, and it might not be entirely friendly attention. Continue reading

Anibel wasn’t sure what to make of the cold.

This realm was unlike anything she had studied, and her repertoire of knowledge was vast.  Eddies of sensation and currents of memory snaked around her without purpose or pattern, at least that she could discern.  She was dead, by all biological definitions.  She had seen her own corpse, a more displeasing sight she had yet to encounter.  Yet she carried on.  She felt an underlying purpose, a driving force, but the particulars were elusive. Continue reading

As Kurn moved in the direction of the battle’s western edge, he was met by Zulian and Rôhn emerging from around a cluster of trees.  The Dwarf seemed fine, though Zulian appeared to have faired no better than Borlak or Kurn at the mandibles of the great insects.  Striated tears could be seen along the clothing of her midsection along with the telltale glisten of the Ankheg’s volatile saliva.  She waved off any aid that was offered at the moment in favor of discussion.

“No sign is given that any of these creatures moved away from this site overland,” she said, “Though we cannot know to what extent they have tunneled beneath us.” Continue reading

Wu-Wu Fan was a scribe for the Sacred Order of Monarchs.  Not those that ruled the kingdoms, but those that ruled the monastery gardens, flitting on delicate wings.  The Great Transmutation was a lifelong study for the monks of the Order.  From nothingness to formative egg.  From devouring caterpillar to devout cocoon.  From majestic monarch back to nothingness.  Enlightenment in all stages of life brought harmony with self and surrounding.

Wu-Wu Fan had only recently evolved into her caterpillar form.  She devoured the written pages before her, scribbling the archaic writing into legible and durable translation.  The circle of life for the written works, too, honored the Great Transmutation.  One sheet after another passed through her, as the caterpillar ratchets through the foliage, and the knowledge of the ancients accumulated. Continue reading

Gerard laughed and clapped his hands, “Outstanding.  Your mother would be so proud.”

Merinde’s features darkened.  “No.  I don’t think she would,” she said, turning away to gaze off into the distance. Continue reading