Sworded Tales

For the past fifteen years, the exploding metropolis of Salcedo offered a tourist attraction that no other city could hope to match.  Paranormal activity was witnessed and recorded for the first time in mankind’s history.  The discovery of super humans initiated a feeding frenzy within the media, and not a day would pass nor a newscast air without mention of some paranormal extravaganza that reaffirmed that Salcedo was “the safest and most exciting place to live.”

The subsequent infusion of tens of thousands upon thousands of citizens into the city spiraled the economy and political machinations into the stratosphere.  The population swelled to where the city itself appeared to bulge on the verge of rupture.  Housing and development industries soared to meet the increasing demand, and grants, donations and contributions were channeled with unprecedented ferocity to alleviate the straining infrastructure.  Salcedo was catapulted into the future on the backs of the super humans. Continue reading

Absent-mindedly — if presumptuously — overlooking the womenfolk, Rôhn appraised the group and rose to his full four feet, foam teacup in one hand, lit pipe full of earthy smelling leaf in the other, and regarded his audience pensively with his stone-gray eyes beneath a furrowed, bushy brow, as if composing a dirge of great import.

His wet riding cloak was now open at the neck clasp and draped over his broad, armored shoulders.  His hood was pulled back, revealing the pommel of a sword rising behind his back.  Droplets of evaporating rain trickled down his breastplate which glimmered in the dim light.  His helm was removed and lying alongside his warhammer and small round shield, which leaned against each other by his feet.  His features were ruddy, rounded and sun-baked.  His long, wild red mane was revealed, parted in the middle and intricately plaited with leather cords, as was the bushy mustache beneath his bulbous red nose and the thick beard that draped below his belt buckle.  The wide, black leather girdle it clasped was adorned with a panoply of tools that jingled in unison when he shifted self-consciously on his feet.  Graven runes adorned much of his gear and weaponry. Continue reading

But the groundhog’s life was no longer his own.  The soul-sucking sweetness of the pastry ring vanished with a  twitch of shadow, but his loins told him he had traveled too far down the path.  The meat between his legs shriveled further with a brisk rush of wind, and his nose shrieked at the carrion stench which favored none but the bald wingers.

Death stalked the corridor adjacent to his kingdom, though he knew not how he had been ignorant of it for the entirety of his reign.  Then his mind was eradicated by instinct.  Survival drive sent him hurtling into the underbrush.  The path was murder, and he sought the cover of stump and shadow. Continue reading

Though Gudrun easily passes for Human, there appears to have been a splash of Orc blood somewhere in his bloodline.  A bridging forehead dominates his face, and sleepy eyes do little to improve the challenged appearance of the young man. The gentle giant tends to be a little slow with his mental faculties, but he possess an intuitive touch with most animals he care takes and manifests a genuine interest in embracing the cause of good.

Gudrun’s mother was a midwife who served faithfully for the local Luck shrine from time to time until she recently died from natural causes.  Gudrun’s only known family, the church has been looking for a means to place the saddened man who suddenly finds himself at a great loss for purpose. Continue reading

Beware dearest friend
Don’t push your luck
Come one step closer
And you’re a dead duck
‘Cause you just never know
You might not see
Falling right on top of you
The branch of a tree.

Some Lucky Charms
In your belly will warm
To strengthen your arms
and keep you from harm. Continue reading

“No, I suppose not,” Gerard muttered to the unconscious woman.  The ranger knew he needed to press on, that delay was dangerous if invasion was on the horizon.  He felt it pulsing in his heart with each gush of blood.  His mind wouldn’t let the enigma of this stranger go though.  She was a puzzle, and the clever Halfling had always been a keen puzzler.  More so if he weren’t able to solve them.

With a deep sigh, he made his choice.  He knew of a decent spot to attempt to provide some succor for this naked interloper, but it was in the opposite direction.  It was not far, true, but his grand-pap had a way of saying that it only took one foot headed down a path to change everything. Continue reading

Background

Force of One observed and hand selected those individuals he thought would uphold the values that best represented the paranormal movement.  The Vanguard was born as a means to both oppose those that sought to oppress the paranormal and to police within the paranormal community.

The first hero that Force of One approached was the stalwart figure known as Gravitron.  A pillar within the superhero culture, Gravitron’s resiliency and presence offered a great boon to any fortunate enough to serve beside him.  With a firm grasp over the forces of gravity, the sizable hero represented one of the most potent forces known to man.

Next to join the Vanguard were the Brothers Atomic.  Doc Fusion and Fission seemed to have a past and a future that were inexorably intertwined.  Their balanced combination of intelligence, energy and enthusiasm served to create a stable backbone of support for the group.  With their individual masteries over the atom, few feats existed which they could not overcome. Continue reading

Borlak was also happy to realize that he wouldn’t be sleeping here on the field. Weeks on a trail that grew ever-more mired as he moved south throughout the early spring, in the company of the caravan that had also delivered Cheskith, had spelled nothing but weariness at the prospect.

Borlak betrayed a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and a slight upturn of his mouth at the solemnity of the reptilian’s reply.  In his quiet manner of speaking, he said in turn, “I am of the Vari tribe of the Sunar people.”  He looked around at those present, his dark-eyed gaze coming to rest on Marcus.  “I am good with a sword, fair with a bow, and I believe that the affinity that my people hold for our horses is common knowledge.” Continue reading

The groundhog king craned his neck around the edge of the dark column.  Well, craned might be an exaggeration.  He blubber shuffled his mass to one side such that his meaty marmot head could swivel far enough to gaze down the overgrown corridor.  Bramble snakes and desiccated tree limbs wove a lattice of intrigue across the shadows.

Doubt crept into his sturdy frame.

A change was coming in the weather.  The duties of his kingdom beckoned.  The ratcheting fire of the stone wall blow machine echoed that sentiment and sounded more distant than what would have pleased his tiny ears.  The corridor could wait.  Adventure would come again with the warmth of the sun. Continue reading

Prophecy of Wild Rock Oracle

Book of hide unhidden unbidden
Path of bones not yet written
Rays of light herald the first
Untied unbound yet to be uncursed

Time of fire day of flame
Burning windows to layers of shame
Beyond the forgotten lies purity’s path
Under the fall of the corruptor’s wrath Continue reading