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Prologue to the Story To Be Named Later, III
Posted by Alan Edwards
Derud laughed along with his fellow students, although he hadn’t understood the joke. His reaction was automatic, a reflex born of a life where he never felt like he truly fit in. Although he was the same age as his fellows, he didn’t have their experience with women, wasn’t privy to the gossip they heard, and couldn’t match their ability to spin a tale. His modest upbringing didn’t help, as most of the better-born students looked askance at those who grew up with dirt on their hands. He was sure that his presence was tolerated only because of his ability to study and help those who hadn’t, and his willingness to laugh at the most stale jest.
Prologue to the Story To Be Named Later, II
Posted by Alan Edwards
Brusen, thick-limbed and of middle years, sat heavily at the rough table. His hands, battered and scarred from rough stone and years-old tavern brawls, gripped the heel of yesterday’s bread as his mind, slowly but inexorably, awakened to face another day. The still air of the apartment was already hot in his throat, promising another brutal day of sun beating on him like Bas’ own foreman. It had been a week since the sea breezes had refreshed the city of Goredock, let alone stirred the foul air of the Gutters, the district of laborers, beggars, and whores. Sails hung limp in the harbor atop stranded ships and the tempers of the sailors and cityborn alike were shortening by the day.
Prologue to the Story To Be Named Later, I
Posted by Alan Edwards
Elder Patrician Merrus, head of the Circle of Magi of the Dreaming Tower, sighed and pressed the fingers of his right hand against the short grey hairs at his temple. This man, who could engulf an entire village in fiery ruin, summon and bind the Demonlords of the Void, or raise a tower of stone from bare dirt at a gesture, could do nothing to quell the rising rage of pain in his own head. He briefly considered turning to Nicoreus for succor, but allowed the notion to disappear. As the first Elder Patrician in a century to head a Trial of Expulsion, Merrus could not afford to appear weak. Even if the trial itself was threatening to turn into sham, as Elder Patrician he had the dignity of the last Arcane Academy to maintain. Read the rest of this entry →
Winter in Derenemyn 