Recent content by Torec

“Seen bigger,” Torec grunted, looking away from the scale to squint up at the sky. He scratched at his beard. Couldn’t say he did well with subtle threats and grandstanding from royals. Didn’t matter if he had or hadn’t actually seen a bigger scale. Truth was, her dragon definitely ranked on...

This time Torec didn't bother hiding his scowl, fingers on One-Eye's reins tightening reflexively. A good boy? Feed his cockatrice to her dragon would she? The tamer wondered at the state of her dragon. Didn't their last tamer die not too long ago? Ate in some accident. Usually how it went...

Torec scowled. What did the lady have against cockatrices? He patted One-Eye's beak reassuringly when she mentioned that her dragon ate cockatrices for breakfast. Don't worry, old fellow. What she said, if true, said more about her lack of control and trust with the dragon than anything...

Old One-Eye had seen better days. Probably days when he had two eyes instead of just the one. Now the enormous cockatrice hobbled along on two feet, resembling the oddest cross between a gamecock and a dragon. Atop the enormous saddle and saddlebags sat a dark haired and bearded man, grizzled...

A futile blow from this shaman of bone. So much knowledge accumulated in the shaman’s mortal span, all useless in the face of one simply more powerful. The law of the jungle. Another breath through the nose sent curling wisps of fog from Xun’s nostrils. He should not answer the tiger in like...

Xunlóng stood where he was as ossified shrapnel shards zipped through the air like so many angered hornets. The sage watched, impassive. “Ah.”

“Animate? No.” Those serpentine eyes regarded Ivory’s every movement. “They are but scaffolding for meat.” Xunlóng stood there, still as stone, wondering what the necromancer might do next. “Strings on which puppets dance.” He canted his head the other direction and held out bound hands...

“You next, poet,” grunted one of Iron Gong’s minions and shoved Xunlóng into the circle. Xun stumbled forward, giving no resistance, head tilted down. They had not even bothered to undo his bonds. He rattled in a breath, then exhaled. Foggy wisps curled from his nose and mouth, perhaps just...

Ah, reckless Half-Blade. If only he could look beyond the cold steel of mortal men, perhaps then he might find the weapon which has so long eluded him. "A warrior’s heart is as fragile as the petals of a lotus," Xunlóng muttered. His gaze moved, flicking over the faces in the crowd. Iron Gong...

Bursts of paints in reds and blues filled the air overhead. Festival goers danced in the streets, on the stairs, on the shingles of the roofs. One might never know them starving. One might never know their lives pitiful. This one moment of joy a bonfire in the ashheaps of their mortal spans...

"Eh," Iron shrugged, looking supremely disappointed by the lack of food. "That's the thing, Swordsman.... I'm not exactly alone." Iron Gong raised his torch into the air. Suddenly, dozens of lights blazed to life in the night, all around the campsite. "You've got room for all my friends?" a...

A sidelong glance flicked toward the irascible swordsman. Not very demure. "What is your name, traveler?" The soldier - for soldier he looked - approached, a congenial smile on his lips, broad and warm as the fire he no doubt yearned to sit beside. "They call me Iron Gong," he rumbled...

"I-" Xun tilted his head slightly to one side and became, if possible, even more still - as stone. Then his eyes snicked open and slitted, yellow opals stared out into the night. From the darkness came the rattle of metal against metal and the glare of torchlight. A solitary figure emerged...

The sealed sage did not move from where he sat upon a bedroll, as still as the tall pines in windless summer on High Cloud Peak. No stars looked down upon them, occluded by the grey clouds amid the night sky. Snowflakes drifted down from them in small flurries, no hint of winter's wrath in...