Musings from a slightly sagacious sideline bloomer with a love of words and whimsy…
Another night had come, but with it, it brought the first semblance of peace that Tystnad had known in some time. Overlooking the roof of the world, he sat on the cliff ledge with his feet dangling down. Cradled in the clouds, hung the swollen moon; bursting with the crisp wintery light that suffused the … Continue reading Ripe
Tystnad... The name was an echo on Halvadere's memory. And with it, the image of the mage never left him as he had departed. Reluctantly. If not for the pressing threat that was approaching the surrounding farmsteads and villages winding its way to the capital city, then the dragon may not have been so hasty … Continue reading Catch
Tystnad knew only the nightmare, until his dream became a fading farrago of sky and fire, of crimson and blue - that made him open his eyes to the dark... At least, until his eyes adjusted. And then his vision was filled with the blotted grey of a cave mouth, with its walls curving outward … Continue reading Injured
Stormclouds rolled in from the east, as if in challenge to the tempest being unleashed on the field of battle. The earth around him had been torn apart. What had once been a lush valley was now but a blasted land bearing nothing but the bones of an unholy crusade. The mage had yet again … Continue reading Ride
The Dreadwood. A fowl name for an equally fowl place. Blackblade had heard it mentioned before, albeit in whispers, and fleetingly. Those who had survived the worst of its evil allure spit their words like bile when describing it... wishing desperately that they would not be expected to dwell on those dark memories for too … Continue reading Coat
Ways of the Wallflower 