#legend hoping to be able to forge his own legendary weapon one day

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Sometimes I think about the fact that Legend grew up in a world where The Hero failed. Like, growing up, Legend must have heard a lot about The Hero of Time. He heard how he failed, heard how he died. He does not grow up idealizing the boy who played hero, the boy the goddesses offered on a silver platter to be slaughtered. Parents probably make him a cautionary tale, a story about a child trying to do the job of the sages. Regardless, some kids still see their tree branches as the Master Sword. They see their backyard as a battle field, their friends, siblings, pets as monsters to be slain. They jump and fight and tumble and laugh and save the world, but it's all so juvenile to young Legend. He knows it's all make believe. Play acting. Baby stuff. He knows it’s fake cause he knows what happens to real heroes: they fail. They die.

Now blacksmiths... now thats a profession. They get to make all the weapons and tools everyone uses. They get to work with molten metal and fire and hammers and its just so cool! So while other kids tackle each other and argue and cry over who gets to be the hero this time and pretend to pull swords from stones, Legend spends his days pretending to pull swords from hearths. He spends his days peeking through the blacksmiths windows and watching. 

He has not heard of the Hero of the Minish. That’s a legend that has mostly faded from history by his time, overshadowed by the Hero of Time’s failure. He does not grow up looking for Picori in the grass nor pretending to fight his shadow. Who Legend has heard of, who he looks up to, who he is so happy to be named after, is Link, the Legendary Master Blacksmith who could forge a blade to rival even the Master Sword. 

#been thinking about this again #just #the thought that Four inspired Legend to become a blacksmith #legend hoping to be able to forge his own legendary weapon one day #oops kid Hylia has plans for you *oof* #lu legend #lu four #linked universe #linkeduniverse #train talks

[sigmaeussp]

A Tale of the Ancient Dwarves

This first story is about the dwarves. They have been in this world for a very long time. They always loved working underground, digging for shiny minerals. Digging was in their blood. They sang while they dug and sang while they drank. It seemed like nothing could change the way they viewed their lives... Until there was a group of ten dwarves that turned to the stars instead of the mines.

Late in the dark night they sneaked out of the caves and looked towards the beautiful sky. They looked at the largest light that was up there and followed it. They had to travel by boat. traversing the seas for the first time. A few of the dwarves that came along on this journey started to doubt the things they have done. They longed for home. They wanted to go back to digging in the mines.

But the majority of the dwarves pressed on. They told the rest that it would all be okay. Soon this star will take them somewhere special and their journey will have been worth it.

After a few days of sailing the sea. They saw the star floating above a tall mountain on an island, surrounded by the vast open sea. They all knew that this would be the place. Once they arrived on the shore of the island they felt the black sand that was there. They found out that it was actually ash. It would seem that they arrived at a volcano instead of a normal mountain. They saw a large opening in the side of the volcano and decided to rest in there, finding out what else this place had to offer. The stars did guide them here.

They started a fire and set up their camping supplies that they brought with them. They wondered what they were going to do next. Once the fire grew a little bigger it lit up something deeper into the cave. It goes down even further.

The dwarves decided to check this deeper part once they’ve gotten some sleep. But a few of them were just too excited to even fall asleep. Three of the ten dwarves left the camping site and explored deeper into the cave. Curious on what they will find.

The three dwarves looking down the large opening that laid in front of them. Their single torch would not reach the other end. They walked deeper into it, staying close to the walls to see where they were going. Eventually, at the end of the opening they saw an orange light. Following it the dwarves saw another opening through a tunnel. Inside this second opening was a large pool of magma. The orange light coming off it lit up the dwarves' faces. They were astounded by the sight. They had to return to the rest of the group. Tell them of this amazing thing they’ve found.

They woke up the rest in the middle of their sleep. The three dwarves simply couldn’t wait to tell the rest. They told them about the large cave with the magma inside. Imagine the heat it could produce, and it’s so close to the large opening. They could make tools so easily if they could use this magma in a new forge.

Many generations have passed since our three dwarves had found the pool of magma. What was once a group of adventurers camping in a cave has evolved into an underground civilisation. Larger than the one the original ten came from. These original ten are considered the legendary founders. Founders of the ‘forge’. Yes, they had succeeded in their plans to create the forge that uses the magma. But they all knew that it couldn’t reach its full potential. Currently the most skilled smith in the dwarven city wasn’t good enough to utilize the forge to its utmost potential. They needed to find a way to create the perfect smith. Someone who was so skilled in the arts of smithing that they could do almost anything. They could create the most perfect tool… or weapon.

The dwarves dug into the deepest mines. Hoping to find more ores and minerals. But instead they found another opening. The opening was dark. The dwarves used torches to light it up. Revealing a huge pile of weapons, armour, tools and other metal objects. The dwarves were confused, how did this get here? Suddenly, the sound of metal plates scraping against each other filled the cave. The dwarves looked around them. looking for what could make that kind of sound. When they looked up they saw a huge beast with gigantic wings that filled the roof of the cave. The beast was covered in metal plates. It opened its mouth and a scorching fire flowed out of it. The dwarves readied their weapons. They wanted to fight this beast and take it down. The beast tried to use it’s claws and fangs to kill the dwarves. but there were too many of them. The dwarves tried to hack away at the beast’s skin, but the metal plates protected him. After about half the dwarven army was taken out, they noticed that there was an opening between the plates on the dragon’s belly. A dwarf ran under the dragon. dodging its bite. He slashed his sword across the opening between the armour plates. Cutting deeply into the beast.  The beast dropped to the ground. It’s metal plates fell off of it. revealing it’s scales… it was a dragon. The dwarves had killed a dragon, something that had only been told in legends. This day would be remembered for centuries.

A Strange energy erupted from the dragon’s body. The energy glowed orange and blue. It tried to escape the cave the body lied in. but it couldn’t find the exit. Once the dwarven scientists arrived at the cave they managed to harvest the energy and put it in a container. They were ready to study it.

The rest of the dwarves collected as many metal plates from the dragon. They also took all the tools, weapons and armour from the dragon’s hoard. They were going to recycle them and use them to make more tools for the younglings. 

Though the quest to find the perfect smith was not forgotten. If anything, this was a great step of progress towards it. They just didn’t know it yet. But after a few months, the scientists who were researching the energy they harvested found out what it actually was. It was the dragon’s soul. They contained the power of a dragon’s soul and were able to use it. They tried looking deep into the soul and saw what they had been looking for. The perfect smith. The dragon was the one who forged its own armour. Who forged the pile of weapons and tools. This dragon had the experience of every dwarven smith who had ever lived… And even more on top of that. The scientists ordered the smiths to create a vessel, a body that could contain the soul. If they could resurrect the dragon. They might be able to create something that could put the forge to its fullest potential.

Once the construct, who they had named ‘Fornax’, had been created. They no longer had need for the other dwarven smiths. They all retired and started working with the digging group. It had put a lot of dwarves out of a job. And allowed them to pursue other talents. Some of the dwarves tried out magic. They practiced the magical arts like only a few have done before them. In secret they created some sort of cult. Who pursued magic.

Other dwarves, who were part of the digging crew weren’t aware of this new cult that was being made. For years this cult could grow and get stronger. And once it did, the other dwarves took notice. Because of the strength of the spells that were cast they couldn’t hide them anymore. The diggers came to the cult’s hideout. Puzzled on the sight. They argued. Telling the cult that this does not please their ancestors. This is not the legacy that was meant for the dwarves. To which the cult responded that dwarves need to evolve. Not all dwarves need to dig underground. The two groups split their ways that day, but don’t think it is all over.

The diggers found a new material in the deepest parts of their mine. It was some sort of crystal type mineral. It glowed bright blue. When they tried digging it out their pickaxes could barely handle the strength of this mineral. The tips bending and becoming blunt upon hitting it. But once they got a chunk of it out of the ground they carried it to the construct smith. They asked him if he could do something with the material. But before they gave the material, they asked him if he could perhaps make a weapon out of it. The construct took the metals and went on with his job.

The cult members heard that the diggers had found some new crystal. Stronger than anything they had found before. The members of the cult got a little scared when they heard that. They started to prepare for a battle that would surely ensue out of the newfound power that the diggers had gotten. And so the cult practiced their magic. They trained in all sorts of magic. Like destructive or enchanting magics. It was almost guaranteed that something was going to go wrong. Not that the Cult or the Diggers were able to see that.

Once the construct had created the weapon from the material. The diggers took the fight straight to the cult’s doorstep. An entire army of warriors entered the hideout and started cutting down cult members with their swords. but once they got through the first line of defense the cult members had prepared their spells. Giant balls of flames were cast upon the front line of the army. diminishing the numbers drastically. A giant battle ensued. Orbs of fire exploded all around. The sound of yelling and swords cutting filled the caverns.

The weapon that diggers convinced the construct to make was a giant greataxe. It could kill entire waves of enemies in a single swing, much like a scythe. The digger also used it to block spells. It gave him the opportunity to push forward all the way to the back line of the cult members.

After a few hours of fighting. There were only a handful of cult members left and a handful of diggers. Including the digger with the giant greataxe. In a moment of panic. The lead cult member used a devastating spell centered on themselves. Killing everyone around them… In the end, everyone was dead. There were no dwarves remaining in the caverns. And the weapon was left shattered in pieces.

#fantasy #writeblr

[officialleehadan]

Do Not Microwave

Lancelot coughed blood as a bullet tore through his chest, into his heart, and out the other side. Knees weak as his heart struggled to mend, he collapsed onto the hard-packed dirt and dizzily watched his life-blood color the earth.

Kay was still bunking down with Bevidere, it seemed.

Death-wounds always took the longest to heal When Lancelot struggled back to his feet, feeling significantly less happy than his already-crappy day would account for, there were two pairs of very expensive combat boots before him.

Boots that were, as it happened, attached to two more of the Knights of the Round Table.

“Feel better?” he asked, and spat a mouthful of blood out to join the rest. Bevidere had his long sniper rifle up over his shoulder, and was very smug with his perfect shot. Kay, as always, looked disagreeable. “Good shot. Thanks for putting it in my chest.”

“You’re too pretty to shoot in the head,” Bevidere said, apparently satisfied now that he had shot Lancelot on his friend’s behalf. Of all of them, he was closest with Kay, and they often traveled together. “Why are you here, dick-for-brains?”

“The Sword is back.”

Kay started to curse, turned, and stormed inside the secluded house. Bevidere watched him go and shrugged faintly. “You sure? Thought we left it in a rock.”

“The Lady caused a landslide and got it back,” Lancelot explained, and proffered a much better photo than the first few they found. They were tracking where the blade appeared, but so far, no luck. The appearances seemed random. “Arthur is reincarnated.”

“Guess you had better come inside,” Bevidere said reluctantly. “You cause trouble, I’ll shoot you a few more times. Any word from the Wizard?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Bread and beer,” Kay said when they got inside, begrudging but always a stickler for the traditions of hospitality. Bound by the ancient laws, Lancelot couldn’t start a fight, but neither could Kay. Lancelot looked down at the tray Kay thrust at him. The bread was stale, and the beer warm, but he took both without hesitation. “You’re looking for the Wizard?”

“Thought he would have showed up before, but last time I saw him, he was in Miami.”

“I do not want to go to the Colonies to get him.”

“None of us want to go to the Colonies,” Lancelot agreed, and broke a piece off the stale bred before cracking open the beer. “I’m sorry for Vietnam.”

“You blew me up,” Kay’s legendary temper, only ever held by a thread, snapped like a twig. He half-stood, looked at the beer in Lancelot’s hand, and dropped back into his chair with a glare that would have lit a letter man on fire. “Was it worth it?”

“Got Mordred at the same time. Took him five years to figure out where I hid his sword.”

“Where did you hide it?”

“You know that boiling lake in Dominica?”

“You didn’t.”

“Did you know they have a zipline that goes over it, now? Great ride.”

“…I might be able to forgive you for blowing me up.”

“So you’re looking for the Wizard. I assume we’re meeting at the Table?” Bevidere forcibly dragged them back on topic, although he was always game to cause Mordred trouble. “When?”

“Two weeks. I have tickets for both of you,” Lancelot proffered the envelopes over. Thanks to many years of careful money management, they had the cash for whatever they needed, and often took jobs here and there to make more. Lancelot sprang for the good seats and extra checked luggage, figuring that both Knights would want to bring their armories. “I’m also looking for Tristan.”

“The last time I saw him was Vietnam,” Kay said with a wince. Vietnam had been bad for everyone, and it took them a long time to cool down after a situation went that badly. Before he could say more, a shrill alarm went off, tinny and high. “Bevidere?”

“On it,” Bevidere said, and snatched up his gun on his way up the rickety stairs. Lancelot didn’t know what was happening, but drew his sword. “Door!”

“Got it. Lance, screen door in the back!”

Lancelot would always stand with another Knight, and went, easily finding his way through the small kitchen to the back door. Just in time, as three men in heavy body armor burst through.

But modern body armor was little use against a blade like his, and Lancelot tore into them, the tip of his sword finding the places where hard armor met. His sword, forged of a fallen star, bit deep through canvas and plastic. There was a very familiar coat of arms on their shoulders.

Mordred.

It was over before any of the three men fired a single shot. He shoved their bodies out the door and slammed it shut, throwing the latch for good measure.

Not that it would do much good; old wood and older screen were no barrier if you hit it hard enough.

But it would give him some warning if they tried again.

They did.

This time, a window shattered in, punctuated by the crack of Bevidere’s rifle somewhere overhead, and the rattle of the paired pistols that Kay favored towards the frond.

Lancelot snatched up the smoke grenade and chucked it back out the window, cursing between coughs. The door shuddered as someone tried to shove it open, and shuddered harder when they hit it hard enough to buckle the wood.

Lancelot decided that it might be time for a tactical retreat. He ran for the kitchen and discovered Bevidere thundering down the stairs, two duffle bags over his shoulders and a string of his own gas grenades in hand.

“Take these,’ he said and thrust the bags at Lancelot before pulling the pins on the grenades, and stuffing them into the ancient, worn microwave. It beeped cheerfully as he cranked the power and turned it on. Lancelot tossed one of the bags back to him as they went for the front door. The back door shattered in, but it wouldn’t matter in a moment.

“Car!” Bevidere yelled, and Kay nodded without looking over his shoulder.

Together, three Knights hit the waiting men, a whirl of steel and guns. The men outside, a round dozen if Lancelot had to guess, scattered back, not expecting their prey to run straight at them.

“Cover!” Kay called when the last body hit the ground. An ominous rumble filled the air, and they all ducked behind Kay’s beaten-up white truck as the house detonated. Debris flew in every direction, and Lancelot began silently listing the reasons why he hated running with these two. “Anyone still moving?”

Bevidere peeked up over the truck and sighted along his gun. Lancelot stuffed his fingers in his ears as it cracked once more. “Nope.”

“Good. Who’s driving?”

“I am,” Lancelot said, and dusted himself off before handing the duffle bag to Kay. “Here. Armor and weapons if I’m any judge.”

“Glad my good stuff wasn’t here,” Kay muttered, but vaulted into the back of the truck without hesitation. Moments later, Bevidere did the same. “Get us to the airport. We’ll call the other Knights and tell them that Mordred sending strike teams to bring us down.”

+++

Knights of the Round:

King Arthur, the king of legend, died in ancient times. His Knights, however, drank from the Grail and became immortal. But the Sword in the Stone has gone missing, and the Lady of the Lake has once more been seen.

Sword and Beast (Subscriber Only!)

Cousins in Arms (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

#lancelot #king arthur #knights of the round table #gawain #galahad #pellianor #knights of the round #tristan #excalibur #legend #myth #mythology #guns #blood #mention of death #mention of violence #mention of blood #death #violence #gun #sword #swords

[writeawayjake]

Got a fun Flashback Chapter!!!

    Could this finally be it? He wondered. After months of following old legends and grasping at shadows, had they finally found it?

    The entrance sat, carved into a sheer rock face. The type of stone, a pale gray granite, marked it as a place sacred to dwarves. Faded runes worn away by the centuries and covered in lichen marked it as a place of ancient importance. He'd never learned the language of the dwarves, few men even could. Hell he'd barely learned to read his own.

    "Brock," Kayle asked, jaw slackened in awe. "Can you read it?"

    "Ahm afraid no' lad. Mah people haven't spoke thus dialect in ages. Ah could pick out maybe a word er two."

    "It's better than nothing. Go ahead."

    "Cair - caaair," he muttered under his breath.  "No KAR. Kar gorim. Ach, somethin' 'bout the morning. The one who finds tha mornin' I don't know. I told ya I cannae read tha bloody thing."

    Placing a hand on his shoulder Jared gave the old grumbler a reassuring look. 

    With a sigh, Kayle's face twisted in a frustrated frown. 

    "Well, no point in standing out here gawking all day. Let's go." Trudging toward the narrow opening Kayle's hulking frame took up the entire space. It was frankly surprising he was even able to get in at all. With some grunting and effort he eventually squeezed his way in. Once he was out of sight things became eerily quiet.

    The rest of them waited outside for a moment, holding their breath and waiting for something to break the silence. 

    Jared's eyes narrowed, muscles tensing, readying himself for what might come. He noticed Brock's grip on his axe tightening and Oren beginning to take an arrow from its quiver. Without even thinking he slowly shuffled himself between Nyah and the entrance to the cave.

   "Come little brother! Or are you afraid of the dark?" A voice echoed from within the ancient cavern. 

    "Jackass…" Jared muttered, relaxing his shoulders and unclenching his jaw. The others let out a relieved sigh as well.

    They all made for the entrance, having to enter single file. Oren let brock go first follower by Nyah. He motioned for Jared to enter,

    "Oh after you," He replied with an overly swishy gesture and posh accent.

    With a scoff and a smirk Oren entered the old temple, taking care that his bow didn't hit the walls. Jared took one last look outside before entering the dusty gloom, maybe it was an old habit of making sure he wasn't being followed, or maybe he was just trying to appreciate the sun and fresh air for what could be the last time. He honestly couldn't say.

    Letting a small sigh out through his nose he started after his comrades. After feeling his way along the walls for a moment and trying to follow the sounds ahead of him, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. They adjusted pretty well actually. Too well. His vision was good but never this good, plus it had never left a blue tinted to everything he saw. 

    Taking a closer look he saw millions of little blue lights wriggling along the ceiling and walls of the cavern. Glow worms, glow worms feeding on glowing blue lichen that clung to the stone bathing them in soft pale light. 

   Jared found himself wondering if that was how the ancient Dwarves had lit their caverns.

    "They're beautiful," he heard Nyah say awestruck. 

    Without his permission he felt a smile cross his face as he heard the wonderment in her voice. He found himself doing that a lot lately. For the first time in a long time he noticed himself feeling happy more often than not. 

    He was never quite sure how to define love, every persons definition seemed to be different. His mother had described it as a warmness that you felt all over, his father as a glow in your chest. Brock described in a long list of lewd metaphors usually regarding someone ending up with a black eye whereas Kayle said he didn't understand the question. Oren simply pondered the question a while before simply smiling and then holding his hand to his chest. 

   As far as he could tell, Jared felt all of those at once but something about it was so much more intense. He felt as if he'd burst into flames if he had to hold it in while also somehow feeling completely at peace around her. 

    Catching up he watched her gaze at the glowing edifice. The blue light glowing on her cheeks and leaving a twinkle in her eyes. He must have been wearing a rather stupid grin as she noticed him staring and chuckled, 

    "What?" 

    "Nothin." He said smiling.

    She nudged his shoulder sweetly as she took his hand in hers. Together they walked hand in hand towards the relic they'd been searching for for months. 

    All around them the glow worms illuminated ancient runes and glyphs, no doubt detailing the histories of mighty kings and epic battles, great feasts and famines. The whole saga of a bygone empire. But they weren't here for a history lesson, they'd come for the weapon. The weapon that could end all this awfulness.

    Every child grew up hearing stories of the legendary rune forged sword. Said to be so sharp you could cut yourself just thinking about it, so holy it could banish any evil, so strong a pissed off giant couldn't break it. The greatest work of the greatest smith's who had ever lived. It was a legend but so far nothing else anyone tried had worked on the Dark Lord. Pinning their hopes on legends seemed foolish but no one else was trying, so why not?

    Kayle led them down the winding corridors of the ancient temple. Eventually opened  into a massive vaulted chamber, towering pillars bearing the faces of revered ancestors circled a large rune covered plinth that supported an anvil the size of an ox. Topping the ancient rusted anvil was what they sought. The blade. 

    A modest bastard sword, it's blade buried in the steel work surface. Rather underwhelming for such a legendary weapon truth be told. Its hilt consisted of a black leather wrapped handle and simple steel fittings with complex yet unremarkable silver inlays.

    "That's it?" Kayle asked incredulously.

    "Maybe it's a test?" Brock mused, stroking his beard. 

    "Well. One way to find out I suppose." Making his way up a small set of stairs on the side of the plinth, he reached out for the sword. The moment Kayle placed his hand on the hilt a bright light flashed from its blade, nearly blinding them all. 

    After a moment of hard squinting they were able to finally notice that the light was coming from runes running along the length of the plinth.

    "Brooock." Kayle asked tentatively. "What's going on?"

    Straining to make out the runes Brock replied, "Something about the worth or worthy - Only the worthy." 

    Naturally assuming that meant him Kayle yanked on the sword, then tugged on it, then wrenched and heaved with all his might but to no avail. Veins in his neck showed as he strained to remove the ancient blade. His arms shook and his face went red yet it simply did not move. 

    This didn't make sense. Kayle was everything a hero was supposed to be, handsome, strong, charming (to most milk maids anyway), and an excellent swordsman. If anyone was worthy it had to be him. 

    "Is there anything else?" Nyah asked. "A password oooor a ritual?" 

    "Maybe you're s'possed to push." Jared quipped. 

    "By all means try your luck little brother." Kayle panted.

    "There's no way it'll budge for me. I'm probably the least worthy one here. Hell have Nyah try before you ask me to give it a go."

    "Ooooh no, yer not getting me involved in your dick measuring contest." She chuckled. 

    "Brock? Oren?" He asked. They both simply shrugged and gestured toward the anvil.

    Fuck it, might as well, he thought with a sigh.

Trudging up to the anvil Jared shook his head at the pointlessness of the scenario. He was a street tough - a dirty fighting, bread stealing, dock workers son. Not a hero, not a leader, and certainly not pure of heart. 

Making his way up the steps to the anvil, Jared took a breath before casually gripping the hilt. 

A surge of lightning shot through his arm and he recoiled in surprise. He simply stood there like a dumbass trying to blink things into making sense. Had it done that to Kayle? Was it normal for that to happen? 

“Well little brother? Did it bite you or something?”

That answered those questions but only created more. Was it because he was so unworthy that the sword was rejecting him? Realizing that standing there all day wouldn’t solve anything he decided to try again. 

For some reason he couldn’t explain he looked over to Nyah. Maybe he was worried the sword could kill him, maybe he was worried she’d think less of him if he failed, or maybe it was just for reassurance. 

Turning back to the sword, he reached his hand out yet again. Gripping the hilt with a bit more purpose this time, he felt the electric surge yet again, this time however, there wasn't any pain. It was more like a violent vibrating, like holding a hummingbird in your hand. The rapid tremors shook his arm to the point where he had to focus intensely just to pull. Despite his muscles not cooperating, the blade itself began to move, sliding from the anvil like a warm stone on ice. 

As the blade freed itself from the anvils tight embrace, a blinding white light filled the room. A second sun chasing away the dull blue of the glow worms. Blinding Jared and no doubt everyone else in the shrine. A long moment passed before the light began to fade to a humming glow. His vision finally returned, Jared could see an exquisite blade, bright and dark steel rippling in patterns like waves or woodgrain. A keen edge that showed no sign of age and a fuller covered in ensorcelled  runes that glowed with the same bluish hue of the worms. 

The violent hum in the handle had subsided and became something more akin to a slow and calm heartbeat. Starring dumbfounded, Jared couldn’t come to terms with what he was seeing - with what had happened. This was impossible. It couldn’t be happening - it shouldn’t be happening. 

            "I - I'm not a hero. I'm not - a hero. I'm…" he stammered, tears forming in his eyes.

#mywriting #mystory #write #writing #story #WIP #OC's #Jared #Nyah #fiction #fantasy #magic #dwarves #swords #runes #Dawnbringer #WriteAwayJake

[shenglingyuan]

title: the sword for which the world would kneel (1/2) (ao3) pairing: akashi seijuro/midorima shintaro summary: The sword was no ordinary sword after all. It was forged with a sword spirit, who would appear in its human form whenever it went to battle, causing havoc and annihilation on the field, never missing a single soul. Its name was Shintaro.

a.k.a. sword boyfriend akamido au...happy akamido day!!!! i will post the second half on midoaka day ohoho (also i really just ran out of time to finish....;_;)

Legend has it that beneath the Akashi estate rests the legendary sword of the Hundred Years War. The sword, said to be wielded by the best swordsman in history, put an end to the long unrest between the human and non-human races. Its blade shines even without a source of light, so sharp that even the wind fears to sweep past by its side. The handful that survived a decisive swing from it have said that the sword seemed to have a mind of its own, passing judgment to its targets despite what its wielder thinks. But of course, this was true. The sword was no ordinary sword after all. It was forged with a sword spirit, who would appear in its human form whenever it went to battle, causing havoc and annihilation on the field, never missing a single soul.

  Its name was Shintaro.

  “Ever since its original owner died, Shintaro has never once woken up,” Seijuro’s father has told him once when he was only eight. He was only a curious boy then, finding himself in the presence of the sword, drawn to the basement where it was kept, pulled by some mysterious force. His father found him just before he was able to land his pudgy hands on the revered blade. “No one has ever been worthy. Not even the best of us.”

  It hasn’t seen the best of us , Akashi’s young but clear mind thought, It hasn’t seen me.

Seijuro was a boy who was raised to be the best and grew up believing so. A lifeless sword not recognizing him? What a dishonor.

His mother told him, owning a legendary sword should be like owning any vicious creature. If one wanted for the vicious creature to recognize them, then one should show that he was more than an ‘owner’. One should show this creature – this sword – care and concern. Treat it like you would treat a friend, and it’ll tame under your hand.

  Seijuro kept this advice to heart. Whenever he had time, he would visit the sword on the basement and talk to it as if he was talking to a person. Even though Seijuro was the son of the clan head, because of his skills and temperament, there really was no one he could call a friend . Talking to the sword was no big deal: it could listen to whatever he had to day, and there was no chance it would say something he would disagree on. In some sense, the sword did become his friend. Seijuro only wondered if the sword considered him as such, too.

  On one occasion, his mother weaved for him an ornament to hang on the hilt of the sword. During those days, her body has grown too weak that she could only accomplish little things.

  “Maybe the sword will appreciate a small token?” she smiled as she put it on Seijuro’s small, rough palms.

  Seijuro eagerly went to the basement and tied it around the hilt. The ornament was made from dark green rayon, and at the end was a white jade shaped like a crescent moon. It was the last thing his mother was able to create before she finally gave in to her illness.

His father told him, after his mother has passed, that the only way to tame a vicious creature was to show it who has the power. Vicious creatures have no sense of tenderness nor warmth, so would a legendary blade made for war. For years, Seijuro trained both his mind and his spirit. There were no trials he did not face, there were no enemies he did not pound in defeat. When he finally came of age, all of the land and all of the races knew to tremble at the sound of his name – Akashi Seijuro.

  As per family tradition, and to acknowledge his skills, his father granted him ownership of Shintaro.

  Yet, the cold blade that laid underneath his own home never seemed to recognize him.

“I place no hope in its awakening,” his father had told him, disappointment leaking from his tongue, “but it’s better to be exposed on the field than grow brittle in its sheath.”

  From then on, Seijuro carried it on his back, never once parting with it even a meter away. He never used it either, for pulling it out of its sheath without it awakening to recognize him first seemed like cheating. It was against Seijuro’s principle. He won more battles, having a mundane sword on his hand as a weapon and a legendary sword on his back as decoration. The sword almost became a part of his body, no one would see Seijuro without it. A part of him believed that if the sword became familiar with him, if it saw how undefeated he was on the battlefield, then maybe it’ll finally give in and awaken. Seijuro’s spirit couldn’t be shaken – I will make this sword mine.

But as heaven would have it, not one who always wins could guarantee he could never get defeated.

  Seijuro was confident he had turn over the plan in his head a hundred times. All the possibilities and impossibilities were accounted for. But they were still overpowered, their numbers diminished into nothingness. Only a quarter remained alive, and by the looks of things, it wouldn’t be for much long.

  As Seijuro looked at the unexpected trump card their enemies brought out, as time seemed to freeze to mock him in his arrogance, as his blood freely flowed from his wounds, his father’s words echoed back in his head: No one has ever been worthy, not even the best of us.

  Seijuro closed his eyes in silent surrender.

  It’s not yet over!

  A strange, deep voice suddenly sounded in his head. Just then, the wind seemed to whistle, as if it was sliced by a very sharp blade. The weight on his back lightened, and the surrounding suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

  Seijuro opened his eyes and got a vague vision of a tall man in flowing robes standing before him, his long dark hair tied up high on his head, swaying with the wind. The dark sky opened up, the crescent moon above shining a light on the sudden stranger that saved his life. He wielded a strangely familiar but unfamiliar sword before him, its blade even shining brighter than the moon. The name slipped off his tongue before his mind had the chance to work: “Shintaro.”

  He never knew if the sword – no, the man – heard him or not, for as soon as he said his name, he strode from the spot he was standing, moving as swiftly and as surely as a storm cloud, and suddenly, the enemies that have been overpowering them were all defeated in a flash. There wasn’t even any clashing of metal swords that rang in the night air, Shintaro moved too fast for them to counteract.

  When the wind had settled, the battlefield had been soaked in their enemies’ blood.

  Seijuro was already standing, quickly recovering from his initial shock. This was the moment he had been waiting for all his life. Finally, the legendary sword has awakened. Yet, he still felt unsatisfied. Seijuro knew exactly why – the sword awakened when he was on the brink of death, as if the sword never believed he could survive and took it in its own hands to finish the job he was supposed to do.

  It was a mockery.

  But his remaining men were still kneeling on the ground, praises pouring out of their mouths.

  Finally! The young master has awakened the sword! He saved us! They saved us!

  Shintaro turned to face him then, and only Seijuro could see the knowing glance he threw his way.

  Your men believe that you are their savior, that voice spoke again in his mind, do you really wish to be stubborn right now?

  His eyes widened. The sword could see through his thoughts!

  But he made sense, to his own surprise. If Seijuro questioned the grounds on which the sword was awakened, his own men would see him weak and unworthy. It would bring shame to himself, and if his father knew, even more disgrace would fall upon his head.

  I’m still not worthy of you , he thought.

  The man only made a gesture in response, placing the sword before him to indicate that the battle was over. Another gust of swift cold wind grazed past the field, and in the next moment, the sword flew back to its sheath behind Seijuro, the man nowhere to be seen.

  Seijuro gritted his teeth, a small smile lining his lips. His quest to win the legendary sword has still yet to end.

News of the legendary sword’s awakening spread through all of the races like a plague. In no time at all, the Akashi estate was brimming with guests inside, wanting to land a glance at the sword spirit; the outside hid several spies from the enemies who couldn’t even dream of stepping an inch inside the heavily guarded estate.

  The sword spirit was not a social creature. He secluded himself inside the sword, never appearing in his human form again. But since he had been awakened, naturally, his thoughts were alive once more. And for some reason, the sword’s thoughts and Akashi’s could be connected in some imaginary space.

  “Little boy, how are your wounds?” Shintaro’s voice sounded inside his head. Seijuro jolted in surprise. Having someone in his head would need time to get used to.

  “I am not a little boy,” he answered calmly in his mind.

  The sword didn't reply anymore. Feeling left hanging in the air, Seijuro continued on, “How come you only awaken now?”

  “You needed me, and so I appeared.”

  His words strike Seijuro by surprise. Why did it sound like a sword spirit harbored mortal emotions? A sword spirit was its master's weapon alone. Nothing but an animated object.

  “For someone who hasn't met a sword spirit before, you think you know everything.”

  Seijuro forces himself to calm, keeping negative emotions inside him was detrimental to his recovery. Besides, he remembered that he still had to make himself worthy. Going against this blade whom he wanted to be recognized by was probably not the best idea.

  “Little boy,” the sword spoke again uninvited, “You are my owner now. You can’t just shut me out of your mind.”

  “Then start by calling me by my name.”

  The sword fell into silence, keeping quiet for so long that Seijuro thought it finally went back to sleep once more.

  “It’s not my fault they named me after him ,” Seijuro added, knowing since then the significance of his name and the hope that the family had placed on him to awaken the legendary sword, “But rest assured, this name that I now carry, it wouldn’t be wasted on me.”

The first Akashi Seijuro was a man more known than the Emperor of the land in his time. He was so powerful, so brave, so renowned, that when the Imperial Court collapsed from the inside and he took the opportunity to overthrow the ruling monarch and rule instead, what remained of the country welcomed him with open arms. The victory he brought during the Hundred Years War was forever etched in the hearts of the people. For those that survived that era of great depression, he was a symbol of absolute victory. And alongside him was the legendary sword he had wielded.

  His rule was short, however. They said the power consumed him, made him lose himself. The legends have also said that it was because of this very reason that during a crucial time, the sword spirit that had been with him through thick and thin refused to heed his calls anymore. When the demon enemy raised its weapon against Akashi Seijuro, and when he called for his trusted sword, only silence was the reply that came back. Then came the blow that ended his years of lunacy.

  The present Akashi Seijuro was now leading the clan in his father’s stead, four years after the reawakening of Shintaro. Ever since the day that he appeared in the middle of the battlefield, not once did he show himself again. It didn’t mean, however, that Seijuro was free from him. His quiet mind became a home for two.

  Thankfully, this sword spirit would only speak up about important matters. Once, when one of Seijuro’s men suggested to feign an ambush on the insurgent fire wielder clan that threaten their allies near Aso, Shintaro couldn’t help but scoff, “The fire wielder clan will devour you even before you step an inch within their territory. Little boy, how come you have followers as air-headed as this? Is he truly a warrior of this clan?”

  But of course, Seijuro was the only one to hear this. He agreed though, the hapless plan sounded really foolish. Aso was a vast place lined by chains of active volcanoes. No human lived within a mile of its borders. Only the very few friendly members of the fire wielder clan dare even breathe the air in that place, for the their loyalty to their blood was stronger than any connection in the world. Even if one side were friendly with the humans, as long as they did no harm, the ‘insurgent’ groups would never touch them.

  The case for humans were different, however. One wrong move and their head would either roll on Aso’s slopes or their body would be thrown to the boiling magmas. It didn’t matter how great a fighter one was.

  Seijuro appeased the sword in his mind, then lectured the person before him. Shintaro seemed satisfied, keeping quiet again throughout the whole duration of the meeting, only occasionally making subtle sounds of approval or disapproval.

  The sword’s inputs weren’t useless anyway, and in fact, Seijuro would seriously consider them from time to time. Eventually, the sword ended up as some sort of adviser for him. The rest of the clan acknowledged this, feeling blessed to have a legendary sword guide their ways.

  As for Seijuro, he was still on the edge over the fact that the sword was still not calling him by his name.

  “Why do you insist on calling me ‘little boy’?” he asked the sword while he was meditating in the middle of the Spirit Hall. “I’m already twenty-five.”

  “To me, you would always be that little boy who came to the basement to tell me about your life, not even missing a single day,” the voice suddenly sounded soft and fond, immersed in reminiscing old memories, “You stopped coming after you gave me the jade ornament.”

  The calm that Seijuro had been able to muster from his meditation trembled at the distant memory of his youth. He had never been able to return after he tied the jade ornament around its hilt because on that evening, his mother collapsed. He chose to stay by her side all day and all night since then. She passed on not long after, then his father honed him to the path of greatness. The sleeping sword had once been abandoned until Seijuro came of age.

  “You were just a little boy then,” it continued to speak in his mind, “When I saw you again, I couldn’t recognize you anymore.”

  He knew the sword wasn’t talking about his physical growth. “Loss changes a person.”

  “I would know.”

  Seijuro opened his eyes, suddenly finding an opening to a topic he had never once brought up in these years. “Your original owner, the man whom I share names with, what really happened to him?”

  “Are the things you’ve heard not enough to create a general idea about it?”

  “Those that talk about him now, no one of them was around during his time. And even if they were, no one knew him...no one knew him as much as you did. You were his constant companion. You know about the stories, then. Is it true?”

  “You people put Seijuro on too high of a pedestal he himself wouldn’t dare step on.” Even though it was his own name that slipped out of Shintaro, it sounded very foreign, like a stranger whom he never had the chance to meet, “He’s just like everyone else. A little more intelligent, a little more skilled, yes, but he is still human. He has weaknesses. He could fail. But the world...they looked at him as if his every step was a path created by the gods, and that even a slight mistake was worthy to crush his reputation to pieces. Any human subjected to such tremendous pressure, no matter how great they are, was bound to fall.”

  “They said when he needed you most, you didn’t aide him. If you’re so devoted, how could you do that?”

  Shintaro let out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t bring me to battle on that day.”

  “On such an important battle?”

  Shintaro paused for a while, seemingly gathering his thoughts, then he spoke again, “Around that period, he had already shown signs of...not being himself. Though I had a physical form, I can only do so much. He has already pushed everyone else away, I tried not to oppose him further for fear that he’d be all alone.

  “But the battle with the demons shouldn’t have pushed through, it was an intricately laid trap all along. Seijuro knew of it, but he did not care. I tried to stop him but he did not listen. In his fury, he chained my blade and locked it in the palace. He went on to battle with a mundane sword. The next thing I knew, my spirit seemed to have been plucked with by something...as if my guts were pulled out by an invisible hand. There I knew...Seijuro had perished in the battle.”

  Seijuro recalled the tall figure of Shintaro standing before him that time. He couldn’t help but think, if right now, Shintaro was also in that form, sitting in front of him, those dignified shoulders would be drooping, his straight back would be bent from an invisible weight, and his cold sharp face would be painted with the most melancholic of gray. Absentmindedly, he reached for the sword hung on his back, giving it a tender, assuring pat.

  “There are many stories, they change from tongue to tongue. But it was written in the chronicles that the last words they heard from that man's mouth was the name of his sword. This is an established piece of history.” He had his own speculations too about how deeply their relationship went, but this Seijuro didn't bring it up anymore, “Even in his last breath, it was you he was thinking of. If you want to meet him again, then there’s reincarnation to hope for.”

  Seijuro felt the sword become colder, as if its sorrow manifested itself as ice.

  “With a soul as corrupted as his, there won’t be any chance for reincarnation.”

  And Shintaro was a sword spirit. Spirits such as him that did not undergo the cycle of life and death had no chance either to cross the river to the afterlife. Losing his original owner was one thing; being awakened with the knowledge that it could never return to his wielder was a different torture to an immortal soul like him.

  “Would you have rathered to not be awakened?”

  “I tried really hard,” a bitter laugh reverberated in Seijuro’s mind, “But on a winter’s day over two decades ago, I was stirred up from my slumber.”

  “Over two decades ago…”

  “Don’t overthink too much. You are not Seijuro’s reincarnation. I would recognize his soul no matter what form he takes.”

  “That’s good then,” Seijuro smiled to himself. It meant that when the time came that he’d be finally able to be worthy of the legendary sword, it would be because of who he was and what he had accomplished.

  The Akashi Seijuro of the past was no more than a bitter memory. He would make sure that he - the Akashi Seijuro of the present - would surpass whatever that person was able to accomplish.

During the past half century,  under the rule of a new imperial line, the warriors of the human clan that was led by the Akashis only had one goal: to achieve yet again the peace that the first Akashi Seijuro was able to obtain for the land when he ended the Hundred Years War. Humans dominate the land, but there were also minorities that they had to coexist peacefully with. Though many of the other clans were their allies, insurgents ran in abundance in the territories that weren’t under their jurisdiction yet: the mermaids in Karatsu who wished to have the sole jurisdiction of the Western Sea, the ice people of Sapporo who wished to bar humans from their island because of an incident from a thousand years ago, the mountain creatures of Hida who wanted to be left alone from the entire world, and the fire wielders of Aso who were the most assertive of their desire to dominate instead.

  These insurgent groups, though small, were able to scatter themselves. They were like weeds, sprouting wherever, needing to be controlled. As the Akashis were settled in Kumamoto, this was their area of jurisdiction. The mermaid and fire wielder clans thrive in this territory as well, and there were regular clashes.

  Most of the times, the humans would win. But then, there were times that they wouldn’t.

  Seijuro had to lead another mission: insurgent mermaids were reported to be present in some port towns that weren’t Karatsu.

  “If they have expanded this much, I’m afraid some alliances between the insurgent groups are forming,” Shintaro had said while Seijuro was planning. Not knowing anything else, they needed to get more information first.

  “I was thinking that, too. And it could only be the fire wielders who could be helping them.”

  “If it’s them you’re dealing with...be more cautious.”

  Seijuro waited for Shintaro to add more to his words, but nothing came to his mind. Thinking nothing more of it, he continued devising a main plan and a handful of back-up plans. When night fell, with a few of his elite fighters, they went to observe themselves.

  It was only supposed to be a reconnaissance. But somehow, the enemies got wind of their arrival. The moment they stepped on the borders of the port town, they were ambushed from all sides. It was like that moment in the field again. Despite all his planning, the heavens seemed to be failing Seijuro in purpose.

  For the second time around, Shintaro appeared to save his life and the few others that were able to survive. Seijuro ordered to retreat before anyone else got killed.

  Upon their return, Seijuro suffered humiliation from his own father.

  “You bring nothing but dishonor!” he said, completely disregarding all the victories Seijuro had won for him. He only sat in front of the hall, their people sat on the sides. Seijuro was bent on the center, his forehead touching the floor. “The Akashis have long been trusted with the survival of the human race. The original bearer of your name brought peace to this land. How come you yourself bring death instead?” He pointed at the sword on his back. “If it weren’t for this legendary sword, who knew if you would have come back alive? Are you really even worthy?”

  If this was the olden days, Seijuro would have been lashed in front of everyone, shamed until he had no spirit left. But his father was aging, the times had changed, and despite his words, there wasn’t really anyone else fit to lead them into this wars. The other human clans have already conceded to this fact. If Akashi Seijuro failed, then even more so would the others.

  “Go back to the Memorial Hall and reflect. Ask forgiveness from the souls you have failed. Make sure that when you step out of that place, you’ve carved into your soul what it means to get defeated and that you would know how not to experience it again.”

  Seijuro didn’t know how he was able to bring himself back to his room. The moment from the floor of the main hall to the floor of the Memorial Hall seemed like a quiet blur. When he came to the realization that he was already alone and that Shintaro was calling his attention in his mind, he started to laugh.

  Blood still stained his clothes, a mix of their enemies’ and his comrades’. He didn’t even have a wound, all because Shintaro saved him in time. Without him, would he have been able to escape at all? Without Shintaro, he actually would have been long dead.

  “I’m worthless,” he said quietly, his laughter fading in the empty hall, “I’m nothing without a legendary weapon. I’m nothing without a victory. I’m nothing without my name. I’m nothing. I’m nobody.”

  The weight on his back lightened, soft cold wind swirled around him. Suddenly, he was enveloped between two firm arms on his front, a warm body giving him assurance. Shintaro’s long hair fell over Seijuro’s back. Their faces were only inches apart.

  “You are wrong,” he said again. This time, his voice was low but clear, not anymore echoing inside his mind, stirring his heart anew, “Not everyone define you by your losses and your triumphs, as you should not be. You are Seijuro - the kid who kept a lonely sword company for days without fail, treating it like a human being, like a friend; the teenager determined to be the best version of himself, training both mind and body; the adult that leads his people with all his best, knowing when to pursue or to retreat, having the makings of the greatest fighter and leader in history. This is the Seijuro I know, and you must know him, too.”

  Seijuro started to calm his breath, Shintaro’s words acting like a healing salve to his wounded ego. He became more aware of the arms comforting him, of the fact that for the first time in many years, Shintaro had called him by his name.

  He pushed Shintaro a bit away from him then, yet he still held on to this arms, meeting his emerald eyes. By some inexplicable force, Seijuro reached up, cupping the sides of Shintaro’s face with his own surprisingly steady hands. For so long, he had been drowning in his life as the succeeding chief of the clan and for being a prestigious Akashi. The name Seijuro attached to him since birth became the heavy anchor from which he could not remove himself from. He didn’t know since when, but it felt like he had been holding his breath for far too long. He needed air.

  Seijuro moved forward, landing a hesitant lip over Shintaro’s. To his surprise, Shintaro responded right away, opening his own mouth further, giving his upper lip a light lick. At that point, Seijuro lost all his reservations. He pressed further, weaving his left hand along Shintaro’s hair, his right hand grabbing the back of Shintaro’s neck as he hungrily savored the moment.

  Yet Shintaro didn’t feel like overwhelming at all. His hands that held Seijuro by his waist were firm but gentle, touching him as if he was the most precious treasure in the whole world. His lips were as gentle as the lap of the waves against the shore, ferrying him from the bottom of the boundless ocean.

  Seijuro had never felt so content.

  So this was how it felt like to be saved.

Ever since that moment, Shintaro lived his days in his human form, much to everyone else’s surprise. He would always appear behind Seijuro, walking alongside him, seeming like an Emperor’s advisor. Even Seijuro’s father was speechless at this development and he never dared say a demeaning word again towards Seijuro.

  Shintaro had long harbored a soft affection towards Seijuro. After all, who in the past hundred of years actually took the time to visit a desolate sword in the basement and tell them of the most trivial things? Even when Seijuro grew up and started carrying him on his back, his motivation to train just to be worthy to wield him impressed Shintaro. Though he might be a sword spirit, he still had a heart that could be moved.

  When Shintaro saved him from certain death on that day he finally turned to his human form again, he has no other intention in mind. If Seijuro had died that day, he didn’t know if anyone else could wield him. Half of him wanted to remain dormant, but this other half was effectively convinced by Seijuro that he’s worth waking up for.

  Over the years, Seijuro had proven that he really was worth it.

  The duo that was Akashi Seijuro and the legendary sword Shintaro became a fearsome force in the battlefield in no time. Their names were soon equated with victory. No matter the force, no matter the ability, no matter the strategy, no matter how difficult things would appear to be, the two of them led the clan to win against them every single time. It was no question when they got the nickname “The Miracle Combination”.

“Can you please stop staring?” Seijuro broke through his reverie, a small smile lining his lips, “It is quite distracting.”

  They were holed up in Seijuro’s room, finalizing the troop redistribution they had conjured up together. After almost a decade of battles, Seijuro was almost near his goal of unifying the land under one rule. The mermaids have made a mutually beneficial deal about the jurisdiction on the Western Sea. The mountain creatures finally realized that they would have a higher chance to survive and thrive if they let others interact with them, and the ice people finally let go of their thousand year-old grudge. This was the same goal the previous Seijuro had, except that this present Seijuro addressed it with a much solid plan and a much clearer mind.

  After the complete defeat in the port town, Seijuro and Shintaro came to reorganize their whole strategy. It turned out to be highly effective. They were finally able to subdue the most violent mermaids, and they made peace with those that were willing to create it. Right now, only one clan was left, and then they could celebrate probably another hundred years of peace.

  “If my stare alone can already distract you, then you might have to reconsider fighting in the field,” Shintaro jested, knowing all too well that when it comes to the things that matter, Seijuro would be the last one to get himself shaken by the most trivial things.

  “Being brave now, are we?”

  Shintaro scooted closer to Seijuro and the map they were working on. The territory of the fire wielder clan remained the only one unmarked.

  “What’s wrong?” Seijuro asked, noticing something was off within the short period of silence. “Is there any matter about the fire wielders?”

  “Do you know how us sword spirits come to be?”

  Seijuro thought for a while, juggling in his mind the previous legends he had learned. Though he and Shintaro had been together for years, it was actually a wonder why the topic of the fire wielders never came in between them, nor was his creation.

  “From what I know, the metal is melted at a really high temperature, and once it's heated up enough, an animal sacrifice would be waiting to be slain by the slightly molten sword. There is a certain incantation that must be orated, and however strong the sword spirit is would depend on the intensity of sacrifice and the skill of the smith.”

  “Animal sacrifice, is that how they teach it these days?”

  “Is it more than that?”

  “So much more. The previous Seijuro was my wielder, but my sword smith was from the fire wielder clan. Seijuro was able to have me because of his connection with the fire wielders back then. Only the heat from their magma could create such a high quality sword.”

  “And the matter about the sacrifice?” Somehow, Seijuro already knew the answer even before Shintaro said it, a heavy weight dragging on his heart.

  “The fire wielders...they have a collection of humans especially living to be sacrifices in their life. They are well-cared for, knowing nothing of their eventual fate. When it's their time, they are separated from the other potential sacrifices, being made to believe that they are being sent out on an important mission. Little did they know, they will be melted with the steel in the boiling magma.”

  At this point, Seijuro's arms were already around Shintaro's waist, hugging him tightly in some semblance of comfort. It was a worthless action, he knew. He couldn't even begin to imagine the suffering Shintaro had gone through to be made into a sword spirit.

  “Did he know?”

  “He did. It was a long-standing thorn between us,” Shintaro let out a sigh, patting his head gently, “Anyway, it's not what I was trying to say. The fire wielders are masters of creating swords with spirits. When the old Seijuro fell from power, his alliance with them dissipated, too. They've cut off their connection from outside. Who knows how much they've developed this ancient technique? How much sword spirits would be there? You have to consider this in distributing your troops and where to lead the battle.”

  Seijuro kept his arm around Shintaro, nodding slightly. “You are the only sword spirit in our hand. Could you handle a situation like it when the time comes?”

  A gentle finger lands on Seijuro’s chin, tilting his head up. Eyes that were as green as the fields they fight on met eyes that were as red as the blood that soon soaked them. In this small distance connected by their breaths, a promise of a lifetime was made.

  “As long as I'm around, I will always give you victory.”

  But a god's plan was greater than that of either a human's or a sword spirit's.

#akamido #midoaka #i write sometimes #this is highly inspired by priest wbk #knb is forever #also please read priest's novels

[alia-turin]

The amazing @babelast drew a beautiful image of Cor (which y’all should see here) and a mermaid and asked for a short fic. Well the fic is not short and I really hope she likes it. I have been thinking about it for couple of days and the idea grew so there will be part two.

Fic Title: The Sea Maid Chapter: Part I Rating: G (some swearing and nudity) Pairing: Cor Leonis x OC (Mermaid) Other characters: Regis, Clarus, Cid, Weskham Summary: twenty-five years old Cor is determined to prove himself by finding a legendary sword.  If you feel like supporting this writer consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi

Tagging: @birdsandivory @jojopitcher @lazarustrashpit @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @themissimmortal @kairakara101 @babelast @akiza-hades-rose @ladychocoberry

If you want to be tagged on my fics (or if I have forgotten to tag you) please contact me!

“Here is the cave.” Clarus announced as if nobody else could see the cave entrance.

“You really don’t have to do it.” Regis placed his hand on Cor’s shoulder. “It’s just a sword, there are many other swords.”

It wasn��t ‘just a sword’ in Cor’s mind. Well it was, but it wasn’t. They have been on that trip, all five of them helping the kingdom fight the empire and getting themselves into all sort of trouble in the process. But ever since Gilgamesh something has been bothering him. It has been more than ten years ago, and he still felt as if he wasn’t doing enough. Gilgamesh was his heroic quest and if you ask people it was very successful, Cor had different opinion on the matter. Since that day, since Clarus pulled him out of the trails cave Cor has been trying to be better version of himself and less of a little annoying brat. But something was missing. He was doing his job at the Crownsguard, guarding the young prince, helping him in his own endeavors but he didn’t feel like he was doing something out of the ordinary. It all seemed so normal, anyone could do it but he wasn’t just anyone. He was Cor the Immortal.

“That is Leviathan’s sword, if you don’t want it, we can at least make sure the Empire never finds it.” Cor had set his mind that he would find the legendary sword of Leviathan and nothing that Regis or the others could say was going to change his mind.

“What’s with you, boy, and caves? Some unresolved childhood issues?” Cid grumbled as he was leaning against the Regalia making it obvious he disagreed with Cor’s quest.

“Remember the sword is just a legend” Weskham told him as he passed him a bag with provisions. “It is possible that you go in there and find nothing. Don’t try to find something that doesn’t exist. If it’s not there, it’s not there.”

Cor just nodded and with that walked into the cave.

The journey was not as he expected. Most of these dungeons had demons or other monsters hiding within. He was sure he would have to fight his way down, but beside few goblins there was nothing else to threaten his life.

Eventually he reached what seemed like the end of the cave. There was nothing there but rocks and a small lake that seemed to be going further in. Maybe the sword was in the lake? Maybe there was underwater gallery or even a passage that lead to the sword. Cor knew underground waters were dangerous. He could swim and he could dive, but was there another pocket of air there? What if he swam too far and there was no air, and he couldn’t go back.

His thoughts were interrupted by movement in the water. He couldn’t see well what caused it, but he could swear he noticed scales and maybe a giant tale. Maybe that was why there were no demons here, there was something bigger and more dangerous than demons. Cor pulled his sword out ready to attack even if he wasn’t sure if the creature was able to attack on land. That made his potential dive to look for the sword even more dangerous and complicated.

He saw movement again, this time he could clearly see a tail possibly like whale’s tail but in a deep green colour. He could also see some threads of gold, like fur, but longer.

“Show yourself.” Cor groaned in frustration. He wasn’t scared of whatever that creature might be, but he wasn’t a patient man and he was going to kill anything that was in his way.

The water stopped moving and went completely silent. Cor wondered if whatever he was seeing was just an illusion, spending too much time in the dark and his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he did see the green scales and that strange golden fur.

Suddenly the water moved again and Cor got his sword ready for attack. However, what came out of the water wasn’t really what he expected. It or more like she was a woman. A gorgeous woman with long golden hair that was disappearing in the water, eyes so green that they were shining in the dim light his torch was making. He relaxed his sword hand moving the sword to the side rather than pointing it at her. She cocked her head to the side studying him probably the same way he was studying here. But Cor wasn’t just studying her. He was enchanted. He wasn’t seeing anything so beautiful and so elegant. Her thin neck, her small shoulders, he could swear he could wrap just one arm around them and embrace her completely. Suddenly he realized she was naked, the water was distorting everything under her collarbones but he could clearly see her shape and curves. Cor turned his head to the side feeling embarrassed and suddenly concerned for her modesty.  

“Who are you?” she suddenly asked and he looked again towards her, the melody in her voice attracting his attention. His head was gone completely empty, he had no idea what to answer or even how. “Can you speak?” she moved a bit closer to him and Cor saw the green tail helping her swim. She was a mermaid. In his head he started running all the stories he knew about the mermaids, but it wasn’t much. Weskham or Regis, probably even Clarus would know a bit more on the subject. Cor was never much for learning and books, he just knew that they were pretty and created by Leviathan and most likely just a myth. Well clearly not a myth since there was one standing in front of him right now.

“Yes, I can.” He answered and put his sword slowly back in its sheath, she didn’t seem alarmed by the weapon, but he didn’t want to give her any cause for concern. “My name is Cor. Cor Leonis.”

“What are you doing here, Cor Leonis?” she swam closer to the edge of the lake, resting her arms on the stone. He was grateful for that; her shape was way too distracting.

“I’m looking for Leviathan’s sword.” He made a step closer to her still mindful that his actions might scare her. “Do you know where it might be?”

“Leviathan has no sword.” She pushed herself away from the edge and swam back a bit allowing her to see her whole body. Her torso was small and elegant, her tail way longer than he imagined but graceful. Her moves were playful as if she wanted him to jump in there and swim with her. Cor was curious about her, wanted to ask her so many questions about where she came from, how she lived here…but he was also attracted. He vaguely remembered sailors from Galahd talking about mermaid spell and wondered if that was it, but he didn’t mind.

“There is a legend that Leviathan forged a sword and threw it somewhere in these caves. A blade made of corals and sea metals, harder than any other blade.” Cor repeated the words exactly as Weskham had told them, he hadn’t bothered to read the book where the legend came from.

“There is no such sword, Cor Leonis.” Every time she pronounced his name he just wanted to jump in the water after her and run his fingers through her hair. He looked to the side again. That was silly, she was a mermaid, he was a human he had no business with her, it was just some weird spell than he was under. “There is, however, a sword here.”

“What sword?” he pinned his eyes on hers hoping that probably that was Leviathan’s sword, she probably just didn’t know about it.

“A sword. Many years ago, a man came here and threw it in the lake. He said the sword was given to him but he was not worthy of it. We took the sword and the man never came back.” She was cocking her head again probably studying him. If there was a man here before him, maybe he wasn’t the first man she was seeing, but then why was she so curious about him?

“Who was the man?” Cor made another step closer and knelt so he could be a bit closer to her eye level.

“His name was Gilgamesh.” She answered and smiled.

Few things happened in Cor’s mind at that moment. He was completely disarmed by that smile. If she had asked him to stab himself in the throat right now he probably would have done it. But there was something else. Jealousy and even regret. Gilgamesh had been here, he had talked to her, he had seen her. Yet another place where his immortal rival was better than him. Cor’s jaw clenched, he could feel anger boiling in his heart.

“Wait, how old are you if you were here when Gilgamesh came?” it suddenly hit him that Gilgamesh was here most likely in his mortal shape. That didn’t sound right.

“I wasn’t here.” She giggled. “Mermaids live long, but not that long. It’s just a story that is passed amongst the merfolk. We gave him the sword long time ago and he eventually returned it to us. He deemed himself unworthy hence he returned the blade. The sword has no meaning to us, I don’t know why he returned it.”

“Can I see the sword?” Cor thought that maybe the legend was true. It made sense in his mid that the mermaid might not know it was Leviathan’s sword, if it was related to Leviathan at all. Even humans didn’t remember their own history correctly and accurately, if Gilgamesh was involved in that the sword was thousands of years old.

She didn’t give him an answer but disappeared in the water. He was alone again wondering what he would do if she never came back. So, there was a sword here, there was some point into diving in the cave, but there was still the risk of getting stuck somewhere. Cor also wondered about her. Mermaids were not real or at least so he used to think. He wasn’t an impulsive man in regards to feelings and his desires, but he was happy to make an exception in this case. She was so beautiful…

Few minutes later he saw a sword appear from the water, a small hand wrapped around the sheath. The mermaid appeared shortly after, her golden hair glittering from the dim light. She was too far for him to reach the sword unless he went in the water.

“I will give you the sword, Cor Leonis, but there is a condition.” She swam closer to him, now the weapon was within his arms reach, but so was she. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Uh…” Cor stared like complete idiot at her. He wanted to kiss her. It just felt so strange. Women never came to him to ask him things like that. They were all charmed by him being Cor the Immortal, the young prodigy in the Crownsguard and that annoyed him. He felt that everyone wanted to be with him because of his name not because of who he was. Maybe some of them actually did but he was so suspicious towards their intentions. He wasn’t Clarus, he didn’t possess the charm the young shield had, nor his skill with words. Cor was straight to the point, rarely tactful and had no idea how to sugarcoat words. But here he was face to face with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and she wanted to kiss him.

He leaned forward, his chest completely pressed against the cold stone. She was at the edge of the lake looking at him, her lips so close. Cor moved a bit closer, her wet hand touched his face and her lips pressed against hers. Heat ran through his whole body and he realized he didn’t want just to press his lips against hers. He wanted more, but was she going to allow him? He moved a hand on her face, touching her skin and slowly running is fingers in her hair. He pulled her head as close as it was physically possible to her and ran his tongue over her lips. For his surprise she opened her mouth just a bit which was enough for him to sneak his tongue inside and kiss her even deeper and more passionate. She tasted sweet and salty at the same time, he never imagined he would like combination of the two, but here he was enjoying this kiss more than any other.

As their lips parted he didn’t move, he didn’t want to move. She was still close to him, looking at him but there was some sort of confusion in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he said a bit sheepishly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No…” he ran a finger over her lips, right where his tongue had touched them. “I’ve just…never kissed anyone before.” He could swear she was blushing which felt so weird. She had seemed so confident and playful, but now she seemed confused and he could feel his whole body screaming to touch her and calm her down.

“You didn’t like it?” Cor was fairly confident in his ability to kiss, he didn’t consider himself an expert, but he never got any complains about it either. “That’s not how the merfolk does it?”

“No…” she shook her head. “I actually don’t know how he merfolk does it. There is only handful of us left and all the males have been killed.”

There was sadness in her voice and he understood. The change in her demeanor had nothing to do with him. The pain in her voice wasn’t because of him. He wanted to help, not just because the sight of her was making his heart race and his groin ache, but he felt like that would be the right thing to do.

“The sword is yours, Cor.” She pulled the weapon out of the water and placed it on the cold stone. Then she turned around and was about to swim away but Co had good reflexes and caught her wrist.

“Wait.” She didn’t fight him, but he had to loosen his grip a bit. Her wrist fell so small compared to his hand and felt so fragile he was worried he might break it. “I want to see you again. Can I see you again?”

“Maybe.” She managed to wiggle her wrist free and disappeared in the water leaving him there on the stone edge.

 As he walked outside of the cave Clarus and Cid were having some argument, probably again about something pointless nobody cared about.

“Hey, look who is back, and he has a new sword!” Regis interrupted the argument and went to Cor. “Is that Leviathan’s?”

Cor just shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking about it.

“Did someone kick your ass there again, boy?” Cid asked as he pulled the sword from Cor’s hands and took it out of the sheath. “Oh, that is a pretty blade and an old one.”

“Let’s go.” Cor took the sword back and went to the car, he was ready to leave.

“Hey wait a second, kid.” Clarus ran to him and pulled him by the shoulder. “You just went in there and came back with something probably older than Insomnia itself. Tells us what happened.”

“Don’t call me kid.” Cor growled at him and opened the driver’s door. He wasn’t a kid he was twenty-five, he could take care of himself.

Clarus was about to say something else and Cor was going to jump on him if it wasn’t for Regis who placed a hand on the shield’s shoulder and just shook his head to prevent any further escalations.

In the car Cor was driving, Weskham sitting next to him, the other three at the back, Clarus and Cid having an argument about the sword’s age. Cor didn’t care, it was Gilgamesh’s sword part of him was happy he could take that from him, another part of him wanted to be back in the cave.

“Wes…” he started, trying to speak as low as possible, didn’t want any of the others to overhear him. “What do you know about mermaids?”

“Mermaids?” Weskham looked at him a bit puzzled but then did a very thoughtful ‘hmm’. “Well, not much. They are old creatures. The legend goes that Leviathan created mermaids, or sirens, to help her, serve her…basically for whatever Leviathan might need them. There are various stories about them, mostly coming from sailors. I don’t know how many of them are true. Some claim that mermaids try to lure sailors in deep sea and kill them, some say that mermaids have the ability to look like beautiful women. In fact, they are no different than fish, but their magic makes them attractive. I do not know how much of that is true, what I know is that the Empire has been hunting them for centuries now. I doubt there are many of them left. Did you see a mermaid in the cave?”

“You saw a mermaid?” Clarus pushed himself between the two front seats. “Did she give you the sword? Did she ask something in return?”

Cor just sighed and pressed the break suddenly making the shield almost fly through the windshield.

#cor leonis #cor #clarus amiticia #regis lucis caelum #weskham armaugh #mermaid #my writing

[kaiserdingus]

Brutal Legend (2009) PS3/Xbox 360/PC Retrospective

Have you ever looked at a heavy metal album cover and wished that you could experience that world? Have you ever wished you could listen to it while fighting demons? Tim Schafer heard your wishes and he delivered them, and he threw Jack Black into the mix as well. The result was Brütal Legend, a heavy-metal-inspired action-adventure game with Real-Time-Strategy elements released for PS3 and Xbox 360 in October 2009.

This project couldn’t have come at a more opportune time, as both the film School of Rock and the massively popular Guitar Hero video game franchise helped bring heavy metal into the forefront of public consciousness. For a brief moment in the late 2000s, it was popular to be into bands your dad listened to. Like Guitar Hero, Brütal Legend’s soundtrack featured a varied mix of guitar-centric subgenres. Popular mainstream bands like Black Sabbath, Motley Crue, and Motorhead would be featured alongside more niche bands like Brocas Helm or Cradle of Filth. It would be hard to make a game about heavy metal music without licensing a few songs, but the wizards at Double Fine made sure all their bases were covered when they licensed over one hundred songs.

Eddie Riggs, played by Jack Black, is the world's greatest roadie for the world's worst band. An Incredibly skilled and well-organized manager, Eddie hides in the shadows putting together massive rock shows for screaming crowds. A chance encounter with a legendary fire god sends Eddie traveling to another world, one that resembles all of the best album covers. Hot rods, demons, and giant flying shrimp-leeches populate this rich, atmospheric world.

Discovering that humanity has been enslaved by demons, Eddie helps organize an army to start a revolution. Lars Halford is the leader of the resistance, with his sister Lita and their friend Ophelia as the only other members. With Eddie managing the resistance, they’re able to recruit fighters with different skills and abilities to join their army. Emperor Doviculus, voiced by Tim Curry, rules over the world with a sick, leathery fist, while General Lionwhyte serves under him as manager of the human race.

There’s an interesting story of liberation that’s obvious and subtle at the same time. While the plot isn’t hiding the fact that it’s about an underdog rebellion fighting for freedom against tyrannical oppressors, it's presented in a way that ties it more to real-life struggles for liberation than the usual revolutions in pop culture which are vague about their beliefs. The first group Eddie helps liberate are the Headbangers, meaty-necked boys who bang their heads all day to mine for resources as slaves under General Lionwhyte. 

The hierarchy is similar to that of any modern job, with the workers carrying out all of the labor, managers ensuring that the workers do their job or face consequences, and General Lionwhyte as the faceless owner who stands to benefit from the unpaid labor of the Headbangers while contributing nothing himself. Doviculus purposely set up a hierarchical system that would keep the humans bickering among themselves, fighting over the meager scraps they’re allowed, while the demons are safe to rule over them. During the Headbanger revolution, one of the characters mentions the workers forming a union to a Bouncer, who becomes angry at the idea. The game isn’t making any profound political statements, but little touches like this bring the fantasy world closer to our own.

Many of the characters Eddie meets along his journey are based on and voiced by real musicians. The flamboyant General Lionwhyte, a parody of 80’s hair metal bands, is voiced by Rob Halford of Judas Priest. Halford also voices The Baron, an ally who appears later in the game and more closely resembles Halford’s real persona than Lionwhyte. Lemmy Kilmister from Motorhead voices the Kill Master, a motorcycle-riding bass player who’s able to revive fallen allies. Ozzy Osbourne takes on the role of the game’s shopkeeper as the Guardian of Metal. Possibly the most over-the-top character, the Guardian sells Eddie upgrades while making sassy comments and elaborating on the world of Brütal Legend. Other cameos include Richard Horvitz, who starred in Schafer’s previous game Psychonauts, and Kyle Gass, Jack Black’s partner in the band Tenacious D.

During the marketing campaign leading up to Brütal Legend's release, Electronic Arts made a point to downplay the game's Real-Time-Strategy elements. Instead, the game was presented as more of a straightforward hack-and-slash/action-adventure game. While a lot of the game’s campaign features Eddie going on missions and completing objectives, these missions serve to prepare the player for the game’s battle maps. Each mission introduces a new move Eddie can use or a new ally Eddie can team up with. The objective of these missions involves using the newly introduced move or ally to solve a problem and advance the story.

Eddie carries two weapons at all times: his Battle Axe which acts as a melee weapon for close-range attacks and his guitar Clementine which can summon lightning from a distance. Also at Eddie’s disposal is The Deuce, a hot-rod he assembles himself at the beginning of the game that can be upgraded in the Motor Forge. In between story missions, Eddie can explore and help people with their problems while also uncovering secrets of the world, learning how he fits into it, and finding the reason why he was brought there. Various relics offer guitar tabs, which teach Eddie new moves he can use with his guitar. These moves open up a short Guitar Hero-inspired mini-game where the player taps the controller buttons in rhythm to perform a guitar solo. 

The battle maps feature two stages, one for each opposing faction, and several resource geysers that can be claimed by either side. These geysers provide resources that help supply your army with the soldiers and weaponry necessary to win, so most battles boil down to claiming as many geysers as you can while sending troops to the enemy stage. Later battles add obstacles that require strategic thinking, or enemies will come from multiple areas, forcing you to divide your troops.

Director Tim Schafer has said that the game was always supposed to be a Real-Time-Strategy game, inspired by the 1990 Sega Genesis game Herzog Zwei. As development proceeded, Schafer found that the action elements were a lot of fun and decided to shift the game’s focus towards that, while still retaining the RTS battles. It’s likely the developers hoped a strong online community would form around the game’s multiplayer mode, which could justify the story mode feeling like an advanced tutorial. Double Fine released two packs of downloadable content which were meant to expand the game’s multiplayer mode with new maps. Had the game been more successful, there might have been more DLC in the works.

It wouldn’t be right to talk about Brütal Legend without mentioning the game’s music. The game features 107 licensed songs from metal bands across the globe, including genres such as black metal, power metal, classic heavy metal, symphonic death metal, hard rock, and industrial. Bands like Black Sabbath, Quiet Riot, Judas Priest, Mastodon, Cradle of Filth, Slayer, and more fill the soundtrack with an authentic sound that would make any metal fan happy. Licensed songs pop in at perfect needle drop moments, such as Brocas Helm’s Cry of the Banshee playing during the boss battle with the Metal Queen.

The game also boasts a robust score composed by Peter McConnell featuring a full orchestra and a heavy metal band to seamlessly blend with the licensed music. McConnell previously collaborated with Tim Schafer on the soundtracks for Grim Fandango and Psychonauts. Judas Priest guitarists Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing provided the guitar solos played by the characters in the game. To promote the game, a DLC music pack was released for the game Rock Band, which was also published by EA, featuring Motorhead, Tenacious D, and Testament.

Despite a massive marketing campaign involving the game’s star Jack Black centered on a “Rocktober 13th” release date, Brütal Legend was not a massive success for Electronic Arts. The game had only sold a quarter of a million copies across both Xbox 360 and PS3 during its first month of release but was successful with critics and those who played it. Many players were confused and upset by the Real-Time-Strategy elements, more specifically they felt they had been deceived by EA’s marketing. Three weeks before the game’s launch a demo was released that featured the first playable mission.  No elements of the strategy side of the game were present, leading players to assume it was a hack-and-slash adventure game.

Since its initial release, the game has gone on to become a cult classic. The sharp wit of the writing mixed with Jack Black’s personality, and the fun gameplay of Double Fine ensured this game would age well. In February 2013, four years after the game’s launch on PS3 and Xbox 360, Brütal Legend would finally come to PC. DoubleFine worked out a deal with EA that saw them receive complete ownership of the game, enabling them to release it on Steam with minor tweaks and bug fixes. The game is also available on Xbox One and Xbox Series X through backward compatibility and is available for free to subscribers of Xbox Game Pass.

Brütal Legend is a fantastic game with a rich, illustrious world to explore that too many people missed out on when it first came out. Some may be turned off by its seemingly overwhelming Real-Time Strategy gameplay, but the game does a good enough job explaining how everything works that even newcomers to the genre should feel comfortable. While a sequel is unlikely, Brütal Legend will stand the test of time as one of the last great games of the 2000’s, and a fitting conclusion to the Guitar Hero/Rock Band craze that was petering out as Brütal Legend was released.

Where to Buy

PS3, Xbox 360, Steam (PC)

The Art of Brutal Legend

Digital Soundtrack

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#Brutal Legend #Double Fine #Tim Schafer #Jack Black #PS3 #Xbox 360 #PC Game #Steam

[ankhari]

Katja’s mission

The snow-furred charr shivered and pulled her heavy cloak tighter around her shoulders.  Two weeks.  She had promised Kitt she'd be gone absolutely no later than two weeks.  Today was the deadline. A week of empty searches empty stomachs and freezing, lonely nights.  She couldn't go home empty handed too.  She couldn't fail at the one thing she set out to do on her own.

   Katja took a deep breath. The frigid air burning her lungs as she pushed herself onward through the snow, fingers numb, and her stomach rumbling.  Another step.  Her eyes squint to block out the wind and snow as her eyes try to survey as far as she can see.  A wasteland of grey rock and white snow. Nothing.    Another step.  A sharp pain stabs up her leg as her foot collides with something solid.  She curses into the emptiness and looks down to find  a thick, angular rock just barely protruding from the foot-deep snowbank.   Too angular.  Katja kneels down in the snow, shoveling it aside in frigid handfulls.  There's something here.  Her digging begins to pick up pace.  It's a slab.  A large stone slab.  This is it! This has to be it!  There were runes carved deep into the stonework.  Norn runes.  Katja silently cursed herself for never paying more attention to them when she was in fahrar.  A few she recognized.  The ones the hunters always liked to inscirbe into their armor.  "Strength", "Warrior", "Legend", but many more that she did not.  Her eyes grew wide as she brushed away more of the snow.  Another rune she knew. One she knew well.  One the the old Shaman had made sure to teach her.... "Charr".  This was it.  She'd found it.  Her excitement drove away all her aches as she mustered all the strength she could to push the heavy slab aside.  About halfway was all she could muster, but it was just enough for her to wriggle through into the pitch darkness of the old tomb.

    Kat breathed a sigh of relief as she set her pack onto the cold stone floor before she went fumbling in one of the outer pouches for matches. She found herself grateful that Kitt had urged her to bring them, her magic close to spent after a long restless week, as she started a little natural orange flame onto her torch.  As light slowly filled the chamber, Katja was finally able to survey her prize.  It was a large circular stone room with a narrow, dark corridor leading off deeper beneath the mountain. Ornate carvings lined the walls, stories etched in stone in a language she couldn't decipher.  Probably ancient norn, if she had to guess.  Kat made a note to make etchings of them all.  Maybe someone in the priory could read it.  Out of the corner of her eye, something glimmered in the darkness, catching just the faintest edges of the orange light from the torch and refracting it across the wall behind it.  Katja turned to examine it more closely.

    There, resting on a stone pedistal, sat the most stunning blade she'd ever seen in her short life. If steel could be made of ice, she imagined , this must be what it would look like.  The long, narrow raipier seemed to shimmer and gleam in the flickering torchlight,  glistening like the day it was forged, seemingly unaware that it had been buried for centuries.  She began to reach for the weapon, but reluctantly pulled her paw away.  "No" she thought to herself.  "This isn't a graverobbing mission.  This belonged to a great hero.  It's not mine to take." 

  Hesitantly, she pulled away from the blade to focus more on the writing in the wall nearby.  She quickly returned to her pack and fished for the small primer on norn runes that she'd picked up before coming.  Holding the torch close, she began to look over the stone-etched text, searching the book for some of the symbols, just hoping for a tiny bit of information about this great legendary hero of the northern charr.   Some of the runes seemed about what one might expect.  Runes to tell of a great champion.  A ferocious warrior with no equal.  To her dismay, it seemed like many of the runes were illegible, ruined by deep gouges carved  at random, sporaically all across the walls of the room, rendering much of the story lost to history.  Between the runes, and the old norn writings, maybe, just maybe there was still enough of the writing preserved.  Enough to tell the world of his tale.  THERE!  On the wall!  Two words carved in old Ascalonian.  "Magnus Glacialwrath".   Her hero had a name.

    Kat began scrawling frantically in her notebook, her paws shaking  as the bitter cold and meager nourishment finally began to catch up with her, but her excitement would not be quelled so easily.  She continuned flipping back and forth through pages of the runebook, each rune another piece of the great legend.  "Champion".  "Loyal" "Proud" "Fierce".  Each rune painted a little more of the picture for her.  There was a symbol for a small town.  Kat knew the place these days as a svanir stronghold.  But maybe in his time that town was where he called home.  Maybe he was like her father.  Maybe he died driving the svanir back.  She continued eagerly.  Here! A whole passage, untouched by the strange grooves.  It says, as far as she could tell, His warband... They turned on him.  Every one of them.  Traitors.  Katja scowled as she wrote.  They betrayed him.  Tried to kill him in the night but he stopped them all...somehow.  She frowned.  Just as the story started to get good, there are several odd runes that aren't anywhere in the book.  There's something about a great beast, or a great spirit maybe.   that came to his aid or... Or he called?  Invoked? This rune didn't make sense here.   One of the norn spirits maybe?  Could a charr call on the norn totems?  Certainly a charr who could beseech the spirits would be as worthy of a tomb as any great norn legend.

       Katja continued her work dilligently.  Three more heavy gouges in paralell lines dug across the ruined text of the next section she had hoped to decipher.  One rune stood out among the destroyed lines though. One Kat had seen more than enough times to recognize, even through the marred stone.  "Dragon".  She perked up. Was he a great dragonhunter?  Did he stand brave against Jormag's claw?  Maybe he slew another great dragon lieutenant.   Kat's head danced with images of a mighty charr champion, standing alone, with the might of the great spirits at his back, staring down Jormag himself.  She knew that was silly, but the image made her smile nonetheless.  In her head, he even looked a little like her father.

    Without warning, a sudden rumble came up from the narrow passageway, cracking the silence and causing the young soldier to let out a startled yelp, her tome and torch clattering noisily to the ground.  Black shadows swam around the corners of the room as the flame flickered and guttered before finally plunging the room back into darkness.  Katja swore out loud, her words echoing through the dark cooridor as she fumbled in the dark to try and find the matches again.  As the echoed sounds began to fade, a new sound emerged.  A horrible sound.  A slow, purposeful scraping of something heavy dragging  against the ancient stone. Loud, slow, and implacable, the sound drew closer, as Katja's efforts to find her matches grew frantic. She tried to slow her breathing, but her heart pounded in her chest.  An icy chill began to fill the room.  An unnatural cold, horrible, and biting.   Finally, quickly numbing fingers struck the match to the torch, bringing faint orange light to the room once more.  As her eyes readjust to the lilght, The first thing her eyes fall upon causes her heart to sink.  A black rune that she'd missed before, carved above the archway, deep in shadow.  A rune she knew all too well, and one that filled her with absolute dread.  "Svanir."

  Before she could even react, a deafening monstrous howl filled the little room, and the thing was on her.  Pain roared across her shoulder as the massive thing slammed into her, moving far faster than something that big has any right to move.  She hit the stone wall hard and her combat training took over.  She dropped to the ground, just in time as a massive frozen claw ripped through the stone wall like paper, leaving three deep gouges behind, ruining forever another block of ancient text.  Katja kicked away and scrambled to her feet. Pain burned in her shoulder as she scrambled for her sword.  The steel hilt of the weapon was already near frozen and ice clung to the blade.  Her lips trembled violently as she brandished the weapon and finally turned to face her assailant.  Her heart lept into her throat as the dim torchlight revealed the horror before her.  She knew immediately that the thing was icebrood, but it was unlike any she'd ever beheld before.  Easily over twenty feet tall, glittering spines of corrupted ice ripping through barely visible flesh and nearly scraping the ceiling of the tomb. A nightmare monster of claws and fangs and horns. The way it carried itself was unlike any she'd ever seen.  It moved like a- No. No. NO.  It couldn't be.  It can't be.... but it was.  If she'd had the time, she would have cried.  It was a charr. An ancient, legendary hero icebrood charr.

   The nightmare didn't give Katja the courtesy of chastizing herself for long.  It's horrible bellow filled the little chamber as it lunged again.  She was ready this time.  She brought her blade up in a high arc, prepared to carve through the creature's arm as it swung.  In that moment, it seemed like the world slowed down.  The massive, razor sharp claw raked toward her.  Her own blade came up.  With every inch the blade drew nearer, more and more ice crystals permeated across the surface of the steel as the temperature dropped far below any natural climate.  By the time the blade reached the monster, the result was inevitable.  A brittle, frozen piece of steel shattered against the beasts frozen spines. Deathly cold ripped through the young charr as daggerlike fingers bit deep into the steel of her breastplate, as the impact sent her hurling across the room.  With a tiny cry she crashed into the stone pillar on the far side of the room, landing with a sickening crunch.  Pain roared as her left leg clearly twisted in an unnatural angle, a piece of bone protruding from the flesh beneath her chainmail.  Katja watched helpless as glacial death inexorably marched toward her, helpless and defenseless.  Her thoughts turned to her mate.  She wished she could have seen her one more time. No.  She wouldn't give up yet. What would Kitt do? Kat looked around frantically.  THERE!  Laying on the ice-slick floor nearby, the Ice-steel blade, still gleaming in the dimly flickering torchlight.  She slumped, falling back, trying her best to feign death, as she stretched out toward the blade.  She'd only get one chance.  Her fingers slipped around the handle of the weapon and magical warmth filled her, even as ice began to form around the steel of her boots as the behemoth drew near.  The monstrosity roared as it bared a maw full of jagged ice-shard fangs.  The thing drew in close, eager to rip into it's new meal. With as ferocious a roar as the young soldier could muster, she bolted upright, screaming as she drove the shining blade through it's gaping maw, clean throughthe thing's neck, severing it's spine with a twist.  The Icebrood charr barely let out a little surprised grunt before it fell motionless, silent besides the muffled gurgles of death.  The demon slumped, falling over, carrying Katja and her blade crashing to the ground with it.   She panted hard, bleeding and broken, but laying atop the felled beast, alive, and victorious.

   Hours pass. Merficully, the blade has enough latent magical power to allow Katja to mend the worst of her wounds.  It kills her a little as she uses two long, shattered steel pieces from her once beloved sword as a makeshift splint for her leg.   She's managed to at least get a small fire started to fend off the biting cold, and slowly heat a little water to treat her frostbitten fingeres and toes.  A storm rages outside the stone walls of the tomb.  There's no way she'll make it back to camp  in this condition.  And making it down the mountain will be even harder.  It's possible, but it's risky.  An unnessecary risk.  It'll be two weeks soon.  Kitt will come looking for her. She's got enough rations to last a few days if she stretches them.  She clutches the blade to her chest for warmth.  The best thing to do is wait.  And so...she waits.

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New Release Roundup, 16 February 2019: Fantasy and Adventure

This week’s roundup of the newest releases in fantasy and adventure features unlikely dark lords, casteless rebels armies, a collector of magic swords, and an assassin collective waging war against the powerful.

The Dark Lord Bert – Chris Fox

How does a 1-hit-point goblin become the Dark Lord?

By accident. Bert is a tiny goblin with big dreams. He follows adventurers, and loots the copper they leave behind when they take the real loot. One day, Bert hopes, he’ll have enough copper to buy a warg, and finally promote from a 1-HP critter to a Warg Rider.

Kit is a typical gamer hoping to enjoy a good story, but her friends are more interested in rules, loot and experience. Kit’s friends Crotchshot, Brakestuff, and the White Necromancer rampage their way across the land desperately seeking the Dark Lord trope, which gives the wielder the power to reshape the world.

When Bert accidentally steals the trope, Kit is forced to make a choice. Should she help her friends, or help a new Dark Lord rise to power?

The world will never be the same. Get ready for The Dark Lord Bert.

Duel Visions – Misha Burnett and Louise Sorensen  

Is Death a dog or a cat? Would it be worse to be turned into a pig or a fish? After we die do we become characters in a movie, or parts for an old truck?

Weird fictioneers Misha Burnett and Louise Sorensen explore the dark depths of the human psyche across ten spine-tingling tales of terror and macabre.

The haunted visions these dueling tale-tellers have conjured find all the horrors that go bump in the night and make them dance for your delight… before drawing you down into the depths to join them.

We cordially invite you to share in our Duel Visions!

Heart of the Forest – Michael DeAngelo

Kelvin has left his country behind. His mentor, the elf Icarus Callatuil, has prepared him for a journey to Draconis, where old allies will be able to better train him for the hardships he is sure to endure in his life. But when he arrives on those distant shores, he discovers that the elves of Cefen’adiel may need him as much as he needs them.

A darkness arises in the forest in southern Daltain, and Tarenda, queen of the elves, decides that a stranger to the lands such as Kelvin can better serve their purposes as an investigator.

What will Kelvin do when he must trade his training exercises for real dangers?

House of Assassins (Saga of the Forgotten Warrior #2)  – Larry Correia

Ashok Vadal was once a member of the highest caste in all of Lok. As a Protector, he devoted his life to upholding the Law, rooting out those who still practiced the old ways and delivering swift justice with his ancestor blade Angruvadal. None was more merciless than he in stamping out the lingering belief in gods and demons among the casteless. His brutality was legendary and celebrated.

But soon Ashok learned that his life to that point had been a lie. He himself, senior member of the Protector Order, was casteless. He had been nothing more than an unwitting pawn in a political game. His world turned upside down and finding himself on the wrong side of the Law, he began a campaign of rebellion, war, and destruction unlike any Lok had ever seen.

Thera had been first daughter of Vane. A member of the Warrior Order, she had spent her life training for combat. Until a strange sight in the heavens appeared one day. Thera was struck by lighting and from that day forward she heard the Voice. A reluctant prophet with the power to see into the future, she fought alongside Ashok Vadal and his company of men known as the Sons of the Black Sword until a shapeshifting wizard with designs on her powers of precognition spirited her away. He holds her prisoner in the House of Assassins.

Ashok Vadal and the Sons of the Black Sword march to rescue Thera. But there is much more at risk in the continent of Lok. Strange forces are working behind the scenes. Ashok Vadal and the Sons of the Black Sword are caught up in a game they do not fully understand, with powerful forces allied against them.

Ashok no longer knows what to believe. He is beginning to think perhaps the gods really do exist.

If so, he’s warned them to stay out of his way.

They would do well to listen.

Into the Light (Axe Druid #1) – Christopher Johns

A tight-knit group of buddy gamers. A relentless galactic conqueror. One big ol’ axe and a whole bag of magic.

Chris and his friends had been hearing voices begging for help, but aren’t dreams supposed to stay dreams? When they finally answer the call, they’re pulled into a fantastic world with themes similar to modern role-playing games. The world of Brindolla. This is what every gamer has always wanted… right?

There’s one major problem: War. The big baddie of the universe has come to collect another planet for his relentless march. The Brindollan Gods only have the power to hold him back for a short while, which they can only hope will be long enough to give Chris and his buddies a fighting chance. Either this team gets rid of War’s vanguard of minions and generals, giving the Gods a chance to keep him out for good… or War comes for Earth.

The group is ready to dive into combat, magic, and any other obstacles that come their way. No matter what needs to be done, Chris and his buddies will always do it together.

The Killer Collective – Barry Eisler

When a joint FBI–Seattle Police investigation of an international child pornography ring gets too close to certain powerful people, sex-crimes detective Livia Lone becomes the target of a hit that barely goes awry—a hit that had been offered to John Rain, a retired specialist in “natural causes.”

Suspecting the FBI itself was behind the attack, Livia reaches out to former Marine sniper Dox. Together, they assemble an ad hoc group to identify and neutralize the threat. There’s Rain. Rain’s estranged lover, Mossad agent and honeytrap specialist Delilah. And black ops soldiers Ben Treven and Daniel Larison, along with their former commander, SpecOps legend Colonel Scot “Hort” Horton.

Moving from Japan to Seattle to DC to Paris, the group fights a series of interlocking conspiracies, each edging closer and closer to the highest levels of the US government.

With uncertain loyalties, conflicting agendas, and smoldering romantic entanglements, these operators will have a hard time forming a team. But in a match as uneven as this one, a collective of killers might be even better.

Power Forged (Chaos and Retribution #6) – Eric T. Knight

The three young heroes are defeated. The Devourers have the key. All is lost…

Except that something is missing. The key doesn’t work. The Dragon Queen is still trapped.

With help from an unlikely source, Fen, Karliss and Aislin escape. If they can get to the last piece before the Devourers do, they might still stop them. There’s just one problem…

Only Othen, a Shaper unlike any of the others, knows where it is, and he hasn’t been seen in centuries. Pursued relentlessly by demonic creatures summoned from the Abyss, the three heroes set out on a desperate quest to find the final piece and stop the Queen before she devours their world.

Shadows Within the Flame (The Elder Stones Saga #2) – D.K. Holmberg

The Forgers proved to be only part of a greater plan to gain the power of the stones, remnants from powerful beings lost to time. Their power has never been controlled by one person but now someone is close to changing that.

Having survived the last attack, Haern trains, working with the assassin Galen to hone his skills, learning about poisons and how to best use his control over metal. When he becomes the target of another attack, he must discover what the Forgers plan before it’s too late. His father might be the key to Haern’s understanding, but the more he learns about what his father has done, the less Haern wants to follow in his footsteps.

As Lucy struggles to control her new power, she’s asked to help find the depth of the C’than betrayal. It requires her to learn more about her new abilities and exposes her to dangers she had never imagined. She’s not a fighter, but she must find strength within her to ensure the safety of those she cares about.

While staying with Lucy, Daniel hopes she will eventually come to see him the way he sees her. He trains, realizing that despite everything he learned of fighting, he’s still a novice. He needs to improve his skill to protect Lucy, but saving her might require more than his ability with the sword; it will require his mind.

The stones must be protected from those who would use them for their own dark purpose, but another has maneuvered for decades, and it might already be too late to prevent the stones from falling into the wrong hands.

Six Sacred Swords (Weapons and Wielders #1) – Andrew Rowe

It doesn’t take a legendary sword to make a legendary swordsman, but it certainly helps.

Keras Selyrian is already well on the way to cutting his name into the annals of legend. He’s fought false divinities, thieving sorcerers, and corrupt demigods — and left them defeated in his wake. But he’s a long way from home, and Kaldwyn offers a different brand of danger than he’s used to.

He’s already got a sword of unfathomable power, but it’s damaged and leaking world-annihilating mana, so he’s in the market for a new one.

Possibly six. The more the better, really.

The Six Sacred Swords are Kaldwyn’s most famous artifacts, forged as the only means to defeat the god beasts. Each sword must be earned by a worthy champion, and no single person has ever managed to collect them all.

Not yet, at least.

Keras is just getting started.

Shield Knight: Rhodruthain – Jonathan Moeller

For fifteen thousand years, the Guardian Rhodruthain has protected the world from the power of the Well of Storms.

But the quest of the Seven Swords threatens to unlock the destructive power of the Well.

And unless Rhodruthain can defeat the shadows in his own mind, not even the Shield Knight and the Keeper will be able to save him…

New Release Roundup, 16 February 2019: Fantasy and Adventure published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

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New Release Roundup, 2 June 2018: Fantasy and Adventure

The northern frontier of Britannia, a magical school, a conquered city, and Manly Wade Wellman’s Sgt. “Bible” Jaeger feature in this week’s roundup of the newest releases in fantasy and adventure.

Desperate Measures (The Valens Legacy #8) – Jan Stryvant

Things are starting to heat up for Sean and for some of his allies as well. The Sacramento Vestibulum council is starting to act in ways that no one had anticipated, and the Gradatim national council is by no means standing idly by either. When several of the councils decide to ban together in a move to eradicate Sean’s followers and remove him as well, Sean has no choice other than to try and teach them a painful lesson.

But those aren’t all the problems that Sean now has to deal with. More and more people are counting on him as the days go by and the burdens he must shoulder are quickly growing. Between the magical work he must do, the people he must lead, the battles he has to fight, and the money he needs to earn, Sean barely has time for his wives, much less himself these days.

And if dealing with the magic users isn’t enough, there are some very ‘mundane’ issues on the horizon that he may soon find himself dealing with as well.

Embers of Empire (Ava’s Crucible #2) – Mark Goodwin

America has fallen and Ava’s band of misfits is all that stands between freedom and absolute tyranny.

Political division in the United States has reached the boiling point and the Second American Civil War is well underway. Communist agitators have been successful in their efforts to intimidate voters from key states and steal the election. A far-left socialist candidate has seized the reins of power and his designs against the republic are absolute. With a sympathetic congress, he will sign in sweeping bans on firearms, criminalize free speech, and institute a new government agency to root out dissenters.

Ava’s group pledges to launch an insurgency campaign against the occupying force in Texas, but they’ll have to watch out for those who have been tasked with purging the patriots. Her team cannot fail in their mission to liberate Texas. If Texas falls, America’s demise is all but certain.

The Encircling Sea (Vindolanda #2) – Adrian Goldsworthy

Flavius Ferox, Briton turned Roman centurion, is charged with keeping Rome’s empire intact. But from his base at Vindolanda on the northern frontier of Britannia, he feels enemies closing in on him from all sides.

Ambitious leaders await the chance to carve out empires of their own. While men nearer at hand speak in whispers of war and the destruction of Rome.

And now new threats are reaching Ferox’s ears. Stories about the boat-dwelling men of the night, who have cursed the land and only come ashore to feast on men’s flesh.

These are just rumours for now. But Ferox knows that rumours stem from truth. And that no one on this isle is safe from the great, encircling sea…

The Family Shame (The Zero Enigma #4) – Christoper G. Nuttall

Isabella Rubén is a traitor – at twelve years old.

Disgraced, abandoned by her friends and shunned by her family, Isabella is sent into exile with scant hope of returning to her former home. Her destination, Kirkhaven Hall; a stone mansion miles from civilisation, inhabited only by a pair of older exiles. Existence as she knew it is over.

But as she tries to settle into Kirkhaven Hall, and a life far from the one she enjoyed before her fall from grace, she discovers that the hall has secrets. Intruders on the grounds, ghostly shadows moving at night …

… and a plot that may destroy everything she once held dear.

Hunted (The Oddyssey of  Nath Dragon #4) – Craig Halloran

Nath, Darkken and Maefon’s relationships grow stronger and they become quite the formidable band of heroes. Still taken in by the deception, Nath journeys with his new companions across Nalzambor to the town of Old Hen. It is there that they begin a desperate search in a bizarre gargantuan crypt guarded by the undead. Within, they hope to find the secret of Dragon Steel, that can be turned into a weapon, that can kill anything.

Brenwar, Slivver and Master Elween pull their forces together in order to track Nath down. Can they find him before Lord Darkken’s deception takes a complete hold on Nath? Will they be able to reveal the insidious Lord of the Dark in the Day’s deception? Or will Nath set his sights on taking over Nalzambor with his brother?

Hunter’s Oath (Changeling Blood #2) – Glynn Stewart

Jason Kilkenny is a quarter-human Vassal of the Queen of the Fae and the neutral arbiter of supernatural affairs around the Fae Court in the Canadian city of Calgary. He has spent half a year building relationships with the existing power structure–but all of that is thrown into chaos when the Fae leadership dictates that Calgary’s Court split into Seelie and Unseelie factions. Backed by the highest authority, the new Lord Andrell is there to build an Unseelie Court from nothing, and he will brook no interference, no challenges.

Meanwhile, a rogue Fae launches a vicious slaughter at Calgary’s largest public event, and Jason is dragged into an investigation and pursuit of a monster far more powerful than he is. The rogue’s Unseelie heritage brings him into conflict with Lord Andrell, and the city’s peace is threatened.

One wrong step could unleash civil war between the new Courts and Jason’s own secrets could lead to lighting the embers of a civil war amongst all Fae–embers that have slumbered since before his birth.

If only he knew what those secrets were…

Magna Carta (The Border Knight #4) – Griff Hosker

The Earl of Cleveland has managed to put himself in King John’s good graces just at the time when other barons decide to rebel. They seek more land and power. The newly appointed Earl is caught in the middle. When the Scots begin to raid once more Sir Thomas is forced to rally the loyal knights of the north and repel them. Following the actual history which led to the Magna Carta and beyond this fast-moving novel moves from Scotland to Wales and Northampton and Lincoln. It culminates in the battle of Lincoln 1217 when the French army attempted to conquer England.

So long as the Earl and William Marshal stand shoulder to shoulder with the boy king, Henry III, then England will be safe!

Party of Assassins – Steven Maurer

The thing about war is that life still goes on.

As rival princes ravage across Aeterna, mustering armies to vie for the throne of the Nutearean Empire, Xanthe’s main concern is getting a date for the upcoming Festival of Favors. Hard for a poor scholar’s daughter, who sees nothing in her looks that would ever attract a suitable boy.

Yet even in the relative safety of northern Thule, the southern interregnum brings danger. Fanatics rise when rulers fall. The Curate preaches that ancient technologies weren’t lost due to apocalyptic battles, but seized as divine punishment for mortals usurping the authority to shape life. Some schismatic zealots go further. Against the law, they murder ‘witches’ – girls with mysterious talents engineered into their bloodlines – hoping to cleanse mankind of its sins.

And Xanthe has a secret…

A Sellsword’s Wrath (Seven Virtues #2) – Jacob Peppers 

Aaron Envelar thought a sellsword’s life was as dangerous as any life could be. He was wrong.

Trapped in a conquered city with a reward on their heads, Aaron and his companions must find a way to elude the soldiers pursuing them while he struggles to understand his bond with Co, a magical creature of myth and the Virtue of Compassion. There is power within the bond, power that could help him protect his friends, if he’s lucky enough to master it before the darkness within the bond consumes him.

But luck, Aaron knows, is a blade reached for in the dark, the man who grasps it as likely to bleed for his trouble as find the handle.

Stalked by Belgarin’s soldiers, Aaron and his companions struggle to find allies before it’s too late. But Belgarin’s army is not the only danger they face, and even should they escape, even should Aaron master his bond with a legendary creature of magic, they may still fail. They may still die.

For there are other legends in the world, other magic. And not all legends are good ones. Not all magic is benign.

Tales of Anyar (Destiny’s Crucible #5) – Olan Thorensen

The Destiny’s Crucible series chronicles the incredible adventure of Joseph Colsco, a college student of no particular importance, who is thrust into an unimaginable fate by an accident that couldn’t happen—but did. Cast naked on the planet Anyar, he forges a new life for himself and rises to prominence and responsibilities he would otherwise never have imagined. However, much is left undone and uncertain. For readers who finished the first four books, many questions were left unanswered, and many stories left untold. This collection of short stories and novellas addresses some of the questions, expands previous books, and points to future directions. The anthology begins not on the planet Anyar but on Earth, with the aftermath of the improbable accident that starts Joseph Colsco on his new life.

Worse Things Waiting – Manly Wade Wellman

Available again for the first time in 45 years, Shadowridge Press is proud to present Manly Wade Wellman’s WORSE THINGS WAITING, one of the cornerstone short story collections in the fantasy and horror genres. Originally published by the legendary imprint Carcosa, Worse Things Waiting gathers 28 stories and two poems, selected from over 100 stories—the cream of nearly a half-century of fiction taken from the pages of Weird Tales, Unknown, Strange Stories and many other Golden Age pulps. Included are such classic tales as—

“The Undead Soldier”- featuring the original ending that Weird Tales considered too horrific to publish.

“The Devil Is Not Mocked” and “The Valley Was Still”- adapted for TV on Night Gallery and The Twilight Zone respectively.

“Coven” and “Fearful Rock”- Wellman’s two novelettes featuring Sgt. “Bible” Jaeger and his battles with diabolical evil in the Civil War south.

—and many more. The very best of Manly Wade Wellman, fully illustrated with over 30 ghoulish drawings by the legendary master of the macabre, Lee Brown Coye.

Cirsova #8 – edited by P. Alexander

For readers who want exciting tales of daring heroes up against impossible odds in exotic settings, the eight issue of Cirsova: Heroic Fantasy and Science Fiction is now hot off the press.

Featuring stories from Nathan Dabney, Jon Zaremba, J.D. Brink, Jim Breyfogle, Amy Power Jansen, Donald Jacob Uitvlugt, Jennifer Povey, Ken McGrath, and J. Manfred Weichsel.

New Release Roundup, 2 June 2018: Fantasy and Adventure published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames