The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 4

(continued from part 3) "How extraordinary." I muttered dejectedly, mouth falling open slight. Merric raised a brow and laid a firm, finely manicured hand upon my shoulder. "Are you feeling quite alright?" "I... no. I don't know what came over me. Its like... damn it. I can't explain. It were as a fit of... of-"… Continue reading The Journal of Wayer Farley | Part 4

INTERVAL ONE | THE SEVERING

IN MY DREAM | I lay upon a bed, hard and uncomfortable, unable to sleep, swaddled in darkness. After a single heart's beating the wall to my abode exploded in tandem with a furious howl that left a dreadful ringing to hover ghastly upon the air. A strange, dim, reddish light flooded the room. Stunned,… Continue reading INTERVAL ONE | THE SEVERING

The Third Visitation | The Red Duomo

IN MY DREAM | The red duomo loomed over me, suspended between a bottomless mist that had a bizarre solidity, enough to maintain the weight of a full-grown man and the endless ambit of a shimmering and starless sky, black save for a strange-flickering of blue-lightening, threshing the skin of the void like great and… Continue reading The Third Visitation | The Red Duomo

The Warlord (Part 4)

As a brilliant moon rises we push the boat to the silvery desert shore.  We put what provisions we can in packs and begin our journey towards the needle-sharp silhouettes of stark cliffs in the distance beneath a starry sky like I haven’t seen since the far North. “We should make the wastes of Yrizang… Continue reading The Warlord (Part 4)

The Warlord (Part 3)

I awake on a cold slab, with a cool draft passing over my bare chest soaked in frigid sweat.  Only the faint glow of a brazier with lowering embers lights the chamber. I sit up. “You won.”  Says the Warlord, his gravelly voice echoing in here.  He sits in a throne-like chair on a stone… Continue reading The Warlord (Part 3)

The Warlord (Part 2)

As I wake, the Warlord and his demoniacs stand over me in a warm tent with animal-skin walls that stretch taut with the impact of sub-freezing winds. “You are lucky to survive the venom of a witch’s blade.” the Warlord tells me.  “Making the Pact very likely saved you. The Dark Powers would rather you… Continue reading The Warlord (Part 2)

The Warlord (Part 1)

Everywhere, they called him the Warlord.  In some lands he was Eshlaru in others, Issaraym, in others still, Kirnavir.   No one knew from where he came. He had a visage marred by strange scars, his scalp always shaved bare; for they said his hair would not grow upon the scars.  Some say in a lifetime… Continue reading The Warlord (Part 1)