“Are you sure that this information is correct?” Ajax looked up from the scroll he had been examining, and gave…
Arthur Wingsmith Posts
The Hounds of Fate gusted southerly. Down from the equator, towards the Tropic of Capricorn, they hunted and scavenged. They…
In Stag Hartford’s opinion, this was exactly how forests should look. They should, as this one appeared, be unmanaged, wild,…
Quinzel brooded. Not that it liked to brood. To be fair, though, the armchair in which Quinzel was seated did…
Just below the threshold of consciousness, there were voices. It was hard to judge how many. Perhaps a multitude? Perhaps…
THRUMM, thrumm, thrump. A chorus of drums beat the rhythm of old powers. THRUMM, thumm, thrump. Each drum tuned to pitch a complementary…
Rain. It’s an environmental condition that sits beautifully in a narrative. Perhaps it hammers against a pane. Perhaps, softly, it…
It’s not easy to name a planet. Even the smallest planets are still quite big, so it’s hard to give…
Weapons. There are at least two salient things to say about them. One is false, and the other is true.…