“Where in the hells am I?” Merinde reiterated her frustration.
“You’re alive,” Gerard smiled her a kindness, “Which is no small gift considering the circumstances.”
Merinde stared at the diminutive ranger. “I’m hairless,” she announced once more. Continue reading
As Marcus, Borlak and Katarina walked toward town Marcus examined the mule and saddles they were supposed to trade.
“The saddles are new, they should get a good price,” Marcus sighed as he considered the mule, “I like mules better than horses for the most part, unfortunately they are not a speedy animal. Since time seems to be something that we will likely be short of, I will have to ride a horse.”
As they entered the young town, the immature age became apparent by showing only a few buildings and a lot of tents. Granted some of the tents were large, but their transient nature shone through, mainly to support the workers of the bridge. Continue reading
I recently edited a scene from an old PBEM game in which I participated, Black Moon Rising, and I enjoyed the rereading of it so much, that I wanted to include it here. My character, Rillo, you may recall from an earlier post. The character of Dunrik and the scene itself were crafted by another player and the GM for the game, so the imagining is not all mine. Enjoy the collaborative effort!
Shining Horror
Rillo and Dunrik are stationed outside the wooden door, one eye each upon the closed solid portals, the other upon the approaches to their quiet and shadowy enclave. Silence has descended upon the pair of sentinels as they await their companion’s return. Continue reading
Grime Hollow was not a place for the feint of heart. None knew that better than Sigal Barsade. The unsavory trade district was nestled between the more decrepit piers of the waterfront and the condemned quarry rife with pitfalls and sinkholes. Sigal had grown up as a wharf rat around the bustling sea trade, a harlot’s daughter with dreams of captaining her ship one day. Continue reading
I’m sorry, could you repeat that? The words formed in Devon’s mind. “Sbbl, krbblthhhit,” is what came from the bloody motorboat of his lips.
The half-face withdrew and a spike of fear sank into Devon’s heart. Wait! He wanted to cry out, but neither breath nor faculty would cooperate. Had he scared it? He didn’t think so, despite his horrid appearance. His mother’s memory chided him about first impressions, but he thought even she would have to grant some leniency under the circumstances. His eyeballs roved in their sockets, looking for a rescuer, the majesty of this second forest view already dimming as a backdrop. Though his nose tickled fancy, it was his ears which caught the lilting tune of a whistle. Joyous and jaunty he allowed it to foster his flickering hope. Continue reading
“Blasphemy,” Merinde grunted, then she cocked her head, “Wait. You’re serious?” Her mind hiccuped at the notion and grasped at the anger for warmth.
“Quite, I must say,” Gerard replied, “The details are too many to burden you with right now, but it would be best if you kept your origins…vague, for the time being.”
“Give me the short version,” she ordered, relishing the notion of focused purpose once again.
“Alright,” the halfling agreed after a moment’s consideration, “But, after that, we rest.”
“Agreed,” Merinde lied. Continue reading
Erellia materialized from around the flank of one of the beefier steeds that Kurn was inspecting for the journey ahead. Not even a silent whisper marked her approach. An involuntary gasp from Haron was clear indication that he was startled by the sudden appearance of the mysterious Elf.
“Haron, I would like to speak with Kurn alone for a few moments,” she said in a pleasing tone, though Kurn sensed she fully expected to be obeyed, “Why don’t you spend a few minutes out of the rain near the fire to warm yourself?”
The boy stammered an affirmation, and after looking briefly at Kurn, headed toward the impromptu camp, his head unknowingly scanning for any sign of Katarina. Once the young man has reached the shelter, Erellia spoke. Continue reading
“Work quickly,” Aristal said, glancing back down the crumbling hallway, “The deception ward will not delay them overlong.”
“You don’t say,” Mink replied. The narrow Man’s blunt sarcasm was reflexive, his attention never deviated from the inspection of the doorway before him. Something wasn’t right, was off. He hadn’t figured out what just yet, but his instincts on such delicate matters had saved him plenty of times before. They would do so again. Continue reading
Mother Stone whispers in her unyielding song. The Vigil of Sisters watches nearby, each harkening to the call with patient will. Gola listens and sleeps, dreamless dormancy within the immortal embrace.
Snapshots of existence from a timeless being render the most stalwart mind fallible. Aware of the passage of time yet unable to remember the events which transpire in rigid sleep, the Vigil awakens only at Mother’s summons, when the stone speaks and the magic runs true.
Devon had seen the second forest before. He hadn’t realized its true nature until today, but remembered glimpses of it surfaced in his mind as he lay in a fractured heap, staring at the upside down trees. Maybe the concussion was conducting this orchestra or perhaps gazing through one bloody lens was the key. Whatever the catalyst, Devon saw life as never before, and it was laced with magic.
Fifty miles per hour doesn’t feel all that fast when driving becomes second nature after decades of practice. The notion of piloting one of the 250 million four ton weapons on the American highways today fades into the periphery as the daily routine becomes rote. Only when the status quo is disrupted does reality slam back with full force into the contrasting forums of blinding speed and slow motion. Continue reading