Only history will note the lonely battleground. The once bloody field where hero's faced demons, and death loomed impossible and always for someone else, where rotting corpse and rusting weapon sink into the bog forgotten forever, where courage is fleeting and cowardice dies a long lonely death. No pen can do justice to the sacrifices …
And with one mighty slurp the fighter's face was ripped clean, he bled a lot and might have tried shedding a few tears, but the most brutal part about it was he's been quoted often as saying he couldn't tell any difference. "I think it makes me look even better, he is said to say …
Beanum is a big man. Past his prime, body stiff with the aches and pains of old injuries. Those aches and pains he tries to ignore. The finger that won't allow him to make a complete fist. The knee with a huge scar running down the middle of it from a lucky dodge. The steady …
The battle of Goblin Forest is part legend and part history, which depends who is asked. The story is of a troll giant and his bow with a legend of mud goblins in tow. It should be known the men of Riverdon did bravely stand their ground protecting a city on the brink of destruction. …
He pulled his short-sword from the neck of the owlbear. Blood flowed reddish black in the glow of the camp fire's orange coals. The smell in the air was horrid. Maybe it was the effort, or maybe it was the sight of the knight who liked to sleep naked tucked in next to the fire. …
