Fantasy
The Northern Wars
DUNKIRK, LEGION Spring, 1E79 Nearly a year had passed by since Pierre had been ordered to maintain law and order in Avon town. Jean was now 19 years old, as well as a Captain of the city watch. His brother wrote to him occasionally, sent by the Imperial Postmen from Avon town on the Northern frontline. The letters grew darker as the months passed by and were mostly updates to the growing list of obituaries of the Legionary host in the North. Pierre had spent the majority of his time in the Northern town fighting off the wild tribesmen and insurrectionists that sometimes assaulted the town- in addition to the rebel townsfolk who protested regularly in the streets for their liberation and independence. He'd been promoted several times over the course of his deployment, having been granted his own squad as a result of his display of the ability to survive and work together with his kinsmen in the midst of the depraved savagery of the uncivilised northlands that they sought to bring under the king's reign.
By Kelson Hayes5 years ago in Fiction
The Northern Wars
CALAIS, LEGION Winter, 1E78 “To arms! To arms!” a soldier called out as their captain crumpled to the ground before them. The rioters had begun arming themselves with bricks, staves, swords, hammers, axes, knives, bows, and stones as they assailed the king's men who sought to contain the fire and insurrection that continued to grow and spread despite their best efforts.
By Kelson Hayes5 years ago in Fiction
Witch Hunters Dream in Binary Code
A cold wind shrieks—she's a phantom trying to possess brick and mortar. I know that piercing wind, how her eyes scrutinize the walls, and how she stalks around my home waiting to snatch her prey. Her giant dark eyes focused on my house, waiting for it to crack. I know she wants to slip through the plaster and swallow me into her gray, decayed mouth. She rattles the trees and hurtles trash down the road. I can hear the tuna cans and beer bottles banging along the pavement. My whole house shakes under her spell.
By Andrea Lawrence5 years ago in Fiction
A Gathering of Ghosts
THE gathered ghosts were all agog, anticipating the arrival of someone who they had been waiting for, for a long time. The ghosts had assembled by the huge weeping willow. At the bottom of the ghoulish tree lay a humongous wood-burning cauldron. Its flames, cursed to burn forever, were like dragons’ tongues of fire.
By Josephine Crispin5 years ago in Fiction
Life On Olympus
The Arrival A gleaming pathway wined up the mountainside. Cyprus trees of golden-tipped leaves swayed in the calmed and tamed winds of the high peak. As his golden encrusted robes dragged behind his bronze feet, he kept steady along the path. The last inches of the road gave way to a great gate. Swirls of gold reflected passionately from the rays of Helios. As he inched closer and closer to the gate, the mighty doors opened, as if they’d known a resident of the palaces they guarded stood before them. They opened to a scene of a springing fountain adorned in fine flowers, depictions of the mighty inhabitants of the shining mountain placed in it and flowing waterfalls and spilled from the tip of the carved wonder. Great columns stood proudly along the road’s edges. He looked around and knew this awe of a scene was his home.
By Donta Norman5 years ago in Fiction
Ridge Day One
Prologue The Beasts hit the wall and began to scramble up the side. Soldiers rushed along, giving orders to those under their command. The young General stood near the edge of the wall, watching every move and every reaction. General Hamel had never seen the Beasts move with such anger or purpose before.
By Shawn P. B. Robinson5 years ago in Fiction
The Necromancer's Journal
Chapter One Looking Back No good deed goes unpunished. That was the only thought that Jacob could grasp onto clearly. Even without the concussion, the discomfort from the shackles and the filthy makeshift gag would be enough to break his focus. He had no hope of getting free until his captors decided to stop, so he didn’t really need to think too clearly just yet. Indulging this listlessness, he allowed his mind to wander back over the past few days and consider what had led him to being dragged through gods-knew-where by a ragtag group of violent con-artists.
By Dante Cross5 years ago in Fiction
