Sworded Tales

“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

“Forgotten what?”  Gordon struggled to squeeze the words into reality.

“Your nature.”  The reply roared in his ears with deafening purpose.  His mind, his memories were scathed by the simplicity of the world around him.  The complexion of all life evolved from a single instant.  That conception had a guardian. 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

“We’ve talked about this,” Andi said, “How unhealthy this kind of dieting can be.  Yes, you’re getting results, but you’d be so much better off making–”

“A lifestyle change,” Carl finished, “Yes, I know.  Thing is, I like my lifestyle.  It’s more about exerting control though.  About proving a point.”  He stopped talking then.  Not because he had finished his train of thought, but because the smell of freshly baked cookies assailed him.  He almost choked on his spit and he swallowed the thick gobs with a click. 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

Most folks do a fair job at celebrating their birthday.  Some make a big tadoo over the affair.  Others don’t even bother.  Here, we like to celebrate something called The Realm, short for the birthday realm.  I’m not sure when it began exactly.  Somewhere in my 20’s I believe.  What began as an effort to squeeze a few more days of goodness out of the celebration has taken on a life of its own.

And no one is safe from it. Continue reading

Umung walked among the gods.  His soul was one of the most ancient.  He paralleled the paths of perfection sought by those along the journeys of spiritual completion.  There was one problem though.  When his enlightenment should have been at hand, should have come to pass, he did not transcend.

Umung carried a seed of darkness, and the gods knew not how or why. Continue reading

Gordon turned and thought he had found God.  He had escaped the religion of his youth unscathed, and while not an entirely spiritless person, he considered himself a good deal more pragmatic and realistic than the average soul.  He grounded his beliefs in reality and what he could perceive.

So what the fuck was he looking at exactly? 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

“Well I hope she puts on ten pounds because of it,” Andi said.

“And anger the bear with a sore ass that much further?” Carl replied.

Andi winced sideways and shook her head in her usual I-suppose-not routine.  Her head tilted back the other way and she stared at him with that look that had captured his soul.  The cookies had a hold of him, true enough, but for her, Carl would forego them until the end of days.

“How do you convey that out loud though?” he said, out loud. Continue reading