


I The Oathbreaker came to the castle of Camelot to die. Tall and grim, wrapped in cloak like a great bird of woe, he perched upon a hill overlooking the storied stronghold of King Arthur. His face was hidden by a rusted helm of old make. Over a hauberk of battered mail, he wore a tattered and faded surcoat that may have once been a deep blue or green. Emblazoned upon his coat was a terrible black bird, upside-down as if diving into the earth; a token of his shame which had become a herald of terror over his two-hundred years of stagnant life. He gripped the hilt of his sword, for he knew that he could be seen from…
Threehill was, as Harkital said, a quaint fart of a town. They passed fields of grain that took up hundreds of acres, then homesteads and gardens of unimpressive design. Off in the distance, there stood the belltower of the Temple of the Heart—not quite grand, not quite proud, stretching just above the eastern quarter of the approaching settlement. Harkital noted that most Biluranian towns were built around temples of that clumsy faith, “like piss pooling ‘round a giggling baby.” Strange wooden signs rose on either side of the road as they approached, displaying an odd collection of carved symbols: a sheaf of wheat, a heavenly bowl, a pot of ink, a mouse, a teardrop within a circle, a blade within…
A wet snapping of branches from behind interrupted them as a beast thrashed about in the swamp. Balthasar spun, half-expecting…
When the sexton returned from digging the poor man’s grave, moonlight carved a thin sickle of white through the shed’s…
Back in the days of yore, some 100 years ago at this point, pulp fiction magazines were everywhere. Publications like…
Citation abbreviation notes: AMtF: A Means to Freedom: The Letters of H. P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard (Volume 1)…
Some stories stay with you not because they are historically accurate or perfectly crafted, but because they remind you of…
In a land of secret histories and deadly stones, prayers are the least of an archivist’s worries. On the continent of Felagren, history itself is…
Sylvia drew a square on a piece of parchment. She and Lisl gazed at it by the light of the…
Throughout its history, mountains in this region were more for the hardy and less for the fashionable. Spirits claimed the…
The weight of old words, pages unread. I carried it with me in those days. Close to my breast I…
Barrin burst from the raging rapids that had battered him pitilessly from one squall to the next, gasping for precious…
