Sworded Tales

Abernathy Thriss was a tax collector in the city of Alik’s birth, and Cerine Thriss taught literacy privately.  Alik was the third oldest of seven siblings, two brothers and five sisters, with one older brother and sister and a younger sister who perished from the Scarlet Rage at the age of three.

During his youth, Alik worked as an assistant in the literary repository known as Darfin Halls Chapterhouse.  He signed on for the rather studious task at a relatively young age and primarily due to the presence of an attractive Halfling named Cedrine Berrydew.  The maternal nomenclature similarities were lost upon no one, save Alik.  Enamored with the diminutive woman, the aspiring academic took the position to spend more time near the considerably older bookkeeper. Continue reading

Trinket Hunt

The sissy, Miss Prissy, is hiding so much.
She once handled this crayon with her delicate touch.
Draw me the trinket, the treasure she keeps,
Something to link her to the train track creeps.

It’s up in her room, in that cute little place.
Where she thinks it is safe from our little rat race.
But the time has come for the truth to be spilled.
About van Harkens, and Kathy, and the chyld who was killed.

So spin and whirl and skip and dance,
And show me the memory that gives us a chance,
To unite us toward our common goal
While helping put to rest this tortured soul. Continue reading

“Donkey dicks,” came the simple rebuttal, “I don’t believe you.”

Gerard gawped for a moment, not entirely sure he had understood her dialect.  “Did you just say—”

“Yes, I did,” she interjected with calm flippancy, “You’re lying.” Continue reading

Putting away the tea gear and making the cups vanish, Marcus pulled a brown oilskin cloak out of his chest before closing it.  Slinging the cloak on and walking towards Borlak and Katarina, he spoke to Erellia.

“Would you mind if I went to town with Borlak and Katarina? If we are getting foodstuffs, I would like to know what’s available before we set out.  I will talk to you about the spells I have when we get back.”

“That would be fine, Marcus,” Erellia responded politely, “Time is presently a luxury we can afford.” Continue reading

Where does the magic of childhood go?  Why do we accept the banality of adulthood and the pressures of life as society piles on layer after layer of responsibility?  I, for one, call shenanigans on the whole business!

Limitless imagination, unfettered by reality.  Possibilities running amuck in the vast expanses of unbiased youth.  The creative potential of our former selves holds such promise for future vision.

Return to the warriors of legend, to the Shogun. 

Return to the times of calamity, to battle such foes as the Crusher.

Return to the field of battle, to win the war as G.I. Joe with the kung-fu grip.

Return to the simple grace and senseless knockouts of Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots.

Find the child that sleeps within, find the memories that have been hidden away, find the windows into times and places that push the boundaries of your mind.

See through your child’s eye and live through your child’s mind.  Grab a hold and make the world your own.  Live as you would and make those around you do the same.  Do not so easily walk away from that engine of innocence!

The Knighting of Colin McGrath

Had storybooks been written about the true history of the faerie creatures which danced amidst the countless dreamers, there no doubt would have been a multitude of chapters dedicated solely to the tales that were woven around a rather savage legend who went simply by the name of Madeleine…the Butcher. Continue reading

Dom’s Augury

The ripples of fate, the flow of Dán,
forever through time, continue on and on.
The weavings and windings often show eyes tangle,
but my midnight blues focus upon the triangle.
Within Dominic’s, the impending injustice you can taste.
The fear and foreboding coat everything like paste.
Yet, before the future can tell all to be told,
this untimely event begins to unfold.
In the beat of a heart and catching us off guard,
not even I could anticipate this wild card.
So the best the retinue of Gwydion can do
is move a step too late and hope for good juju. Continue reading

Weapons still sheathed at his side, Gerard pointed his empty palms toward her with a cautionary attempt to indicate that he meant no harm.  The gesture was reflexive as he had trouble understanding her dialect.  The words echoed a bastardized version of an ancient tongue from the southern wastes, but he couldn’t be sure with adrenalin pounding in his ears. Continue reading

“Then our wait commences.”

With that, Erellia began to go about some minor tasks within the shelter as the various members of the group prepared to undertake the assignments given to them.

“Sell the extra saddles with the mule?” Kurn asked, suggesting; if five of the horses were to be pack animals, the saddles were extra weight and burden they’d not be needing, and could be placed upon the mule and also sold in Westerly. Continue reading

Lister tried not to laugh, but sweet butter meats, the way the soothsayer said her name was a theatrical orgy.  If he had known his life would be forfeit, Lister was pretty sure he could have restrained himself.  Pretty sure.  But holy love knuckles, you had to be there.  You still could be there actually.  She still does readings and sees the future for the right price.  Just, whatever you do, don’t laugh.   Don’t.  Fucking.  Laugh.

The traveling sideshow made the circuit through the southern arch of towns on a semi-regular schedule.  The tents would erect and the banners flap every other year near the old mill, usually, if the weather suited wagon travel through the lowlands.  A handful of ill-timed rainy seasons had put the gypsies off course for over six years.  Long enough for a lot of the memories to blur, for a lot of the newer folk to the area to be ignorant of the fortuneteller named Rosema Fusto. Continue reading