Blood drizzled through the man’s clenched fingers, pooling on the ground below him. Burned flesh—stinging and dripping with boiled moisture—pushed painfully against the ornate, black-painted breastplate as the man pushed himself up from the dirt. Had it worked? Had he escaped? The man’s blood-webbed gaze flicked around him. This was not the debris-decorated town square of the Isle now. Continue reading The Renegade
Please read In Recent Years: Introduction before reading this post.
Year 1478
On the eve of 1478, an ominous man steps off the riverboat and into Rema, the capital of Numa’nakres. Though Nerediil laments what has happened to him, he dismisses such thoughts as being akin to those of Virn. He eyes the Iron Palace in the heart of the city, he is instead drawn to the celebratory sounds of those celebrating the Raderan New Year. He tails a couple of girls from a drinking hall, but is stopped by the guards before he can act against them. The guards see his fangs and claws before he tears them limb from limb with unexpected strength. He resolves that, though his target is in the Iron Palace, he can have some fun in the streets first. Continue reading In Recent Years: Elsewhere in Gethra
It was mid-morning when the seafoam turned red. Corbaan Ryo, formerly Master Ryo of Ryo’s Baked Goods, sat between Dorim Longheel and Evela Kriya—one of Baron Kriya’s many nieces and nephews. Dorim pulled an oar, though Corbaan and Evela were fortunate enough to sit as passengers in the middle of the rowboat, by happenstance. Ahead, the murderous chanting of a thousand bloodthirsty pirates echoed to the beat of a drum. Continue reading Corbaan Ryo
Splashing waves applauded the passage of the dugout. It was a nearly cloudless day, at last, and the water between the dugout and the outrigger log was as bright a blue as the winding paint that articulated the choruchor under Kotak’tak’s skin. While many of the Elu’ar—seeing men—were prone to rigid, straight choruchor, Kotak’tak’s spirit had shown itself to be one as convoluted as the tides. Kotak’tak looked up at the sky as he piloted his dugout between the dotted islands of Korhos. Soon he would be out on the water plain, and he would be able to see the omen true. Soon enough. Continue reading The Soothsayer
There was only one crate left of their hefty supply storage when Droelin’s wagon finally rolled through the old stone gates of a city tossed by turmoil. He had been here once, probably fifteen years ago, he reflected. It seemed like an eon ago, but the man steering the wagon was still a young man to his peers. A brilliant young man, admittedly, and one far beyond his fifty-two years.
“Well,” Droelin said, to his unresponsive companion, “this is even worse than I imagined.” Continue reading Droelin
The tall man strode down the plank with a calm, comfortable gait. In the afternoon sun, his coppery skin gleamed, though only his cheeks. His head and shoulders were covered by a hood, to conceal his grotesque features from passersby. The hot days on the ship had been brutal, but he had no other option. For the man named Nerediil, public appearance was not an option. His teeth had been turned into long fangs and his hands bore claws—side effects of the magic that had perverted him and built him into the beast he now was. Continue reading Nerediil