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Waratah Scullinthorpe, Classics Librarian: As a librarian and Theosophist Sunday School teacher, Miss Scullins knew she could keep calm under pressure.
An occasional series of Cthulhu investigators, Daz Studio and Photoshop.
One of the traditions of Australian convention roleplaying is the beer coaster, whereby your game submission for next year’s con is scratched and scrawled on the back of a beer coaster during drinks at the pub after this year’s con.
A lot of coasters go missing, but I tell you, we planned some great games. Right before the wave of exhaustion and sugar withdrawal.
The inspiration for ‘Sorry Business’ actually came a few weeks after this year’s con, but hey, it’s a way of introducing it to you all.
Read more about Sorry Business.
Download for free in e-book (epub and mobi) format
Here we forged a tribe called Hurricane, birthed by a blue arrow, led by a high king’s courage, strengthened by a star queen’s wisdom, borne upon a desperate storm, forged by feat and fire and the bitter blade-clash of battle.
Here the world changed, forever. Time and the Great Before came together as one. Here we lived each day within a myth, an eternal story most holy and most real, and one not always one of our own telling.
To Walk in Far Places, the collected Far Point fictions of John Hughes, is now available for free download in e-pub (for most readers, including iPad and iPhone) and mobi (for Kindle) formats.
The Far Place Orlanthi of Northern Sartar are a barbaric tribal hunting and farming people given to incessant warfare and raiding. These illustrated tales of death and laughter give an insight into their lives, their myths, their history and their poetry at the beginning of the Hero Wars.
Many of these stories were first published in Tales of the Reaching Moon, Tradetalk, Ye Book of Tentacles, Questlines, or Dragon Pass: Land of Thunder.
Glorantha is the creation of Greg Stafford, and is used with permission.
All artwork by John Hughes.
» To Walk in Far Places (3.0 Meg e-pub format)
» To Walk in Far Places (2.2 Meg mobi format)
- Tribes of the Far Place
- Lagerwater Tales
- The Yelmalians
- The Palisade by Night
- Harmony Lodge
Short stories and kennings
- Exile 1614
- A Visitor From Prax
- The Finest Music
- The Sheep of Luck
- A Rope of Cedar Bark
- Warriors went to Whitewall
- Runo I: Stasis
- Runo II: Spirit
- Runo III: Water
- Runo IV: Truth
- Runo V: Harmony
- Runo VI: Disorder
- Runo VII: Kinship
- Runo VIII: Fate
- Runo IX: Darkness
- Runo X: Mastery
- Runo XI: Fertility
- Runo XII: Magic
- Runo XIII: Illusion
- Runo XIV: Infinity
- Bluefoot Orlanthi
- Lagerwater Stead
- The Stead Year
- Life In Landscape
- Of Food And Drink
- Flora & Fauna
- Wilderness Resources
- Imports and Exports
This e-book uses trademarks and/or copyrights owned by Moon Design Publications LLC, which are used under Moon Design Publications’s Fan Material Policy. We are expressly prohibited from charging you to use or access this content. This e-book is not published, endorsed, or specifically approved by Moon Design Publishing. For more information about Moon Design Publications and Moon Design Publications products, please visit glorantha.com.
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/.
Humakti warrior. DAZ Studio and Photoshop. Click for full-size image.
Dangerford Death Song
They were not.
Too silent to be real, they appeared—eleven gaunt and empty warriors—out of the fog-cloaked gors at dawn. Black cloaked, blood-banded, they sought the fyrd fight, the game of iron.
Halting but a spear-throw from our fires, the sword-troop stood motionless as sentries raised our sleeping camp.
Black-cloaked, horse-crowned, lacking in armour. Kin-less ones, their clan markings faded and pale. Death-hungry.
Our spearthane hefted his great ash and bellowed a challenge.
The answer came on the world’s breath from nine ragged throats. A song, a summoning, gentle and in an ancient mode, as if uttered by maids calling kin to a wedding.
The sundered ones began their advance with slow and measured step, singing their swords. Each held a blood-band, iron-black and high of hilt, gleaming against the dawn with blueish unlight. They came not as a shieldwall, but as blood brides, arrayed in three open columns, their order wyrded by lot. Three firsts would fight till felled, then one behind would step to take their place. Their feet were wrapped in rune-pocked leather: there would be no healing.
This was not mercenary work, this was death song.
We raised shields. Wall-holders we, fyrd-strong, our band some six hands in number, and none a stranger to the emnity of edges.
The foe advanced. The spearthane weighed our wyrd, gave voice to thunder.
Wind-born, storm-swift, we fled for the safety of the trees.