Blog Archives

Helden: A novella of the Hero Wars

The order comes: gash flesh, gore shield, make iron ring. Glut the wolves and birds of prey with fat and flesh of foe.

I am pleased to note that Helden is again available for download in PDF format. As the clans of Sartar and the Far Place rise in rebellion, a life-sick Humakti and his Vingan companion journey to a hill of swords, where the fate of the Kingdom depends on a desperate and ill-matched few.

Helden is a tale of death and laughter from the Hero Wars. 79 pages. Grab it now.

Warriors went to Whitewall …

Warriors went to Whitewall. Here we stood together, the last moot of the free. Here, with ruse and ritual and quest most desperate, defying the world’s wyrd, we held an Empire at bay for two long years.

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 our eyes were opened. Here we forged a new vision, a new allegiance, a new way of living and dying.

Here the world changed, forever.

I am pleased to announce that ‘Ruin’ is once more available for download here at Myth-O-Logic. ‘Ruin’ describes the journey of two Orlanthi exiles – a skald named Braggi and a vingan called Cradledaughter – to the ruined city of WhiteWall. Written and illustrated by John Hughes,  ‘Ruin’ was first published in Ye Booke of Tentacles VI.

Download Ruin (2.6 Meg PDF document).

To Walk in Far Places

He who calls the Thunder has been Born.
We are many. We are one.
No more to hunt an unknown gors,
No more to plough an unknown field.
It is here, it is here, it is here.

To Walk in Far Places. A preliminary sketch of an Orlanthi Far Walker done for the 'To Walk in Far Places' project. DAZ Studio and Photoshop.

To Walk in Far Places. A preliminary sketch of an Ernaldan peace weaver. DAZ Studio and Photoshop.

Three Lagerwater Tales

Night makes us all kin, and fast be the friendships forged by the burning brazier coals. Here in the chill silence is founded the true friendship of Vinga and Elmal, for all their rivalry and tongue-thunder in the moot. And here too, the yelmalians and elmali stand true together, and wonder in the enemy darkness if their gods are really so different after all.

Jump to read three Lagerwater Tales: ‘The Yelmalians’, The Palisade by Night’, and ‘Harmony Lodge.

A Visitor from Prax

Come the Hurricane‘The elements reign here in frightful and eternal combat, and spirits and other immortal creatures seem plentiful; though for the most part shy and unobtrusive. Even so, I judge it no fit place for civilised man. The country, though quite varied in character, either bristles with forests or is foul with swamp, and is constantly chilled by great troll magics out of Dagori Inkarth. Horses and other pack beasts are of no assistance in the hills and marshes. The trees are older than time, and exceed all marvels with their limitless age and size. Hills are raised up where roots collide.

The stormy heights to the west of Jaskors Hold are remarkable for beasts of chase: stag, elk, roebuck, spreadhorn and horned boar. It is rumoured that fearful aurochs still haunt the wilder parts of the gallt, though I did not care to investigate this personally. Moreover, the wilderness contains a great sufficiency of otters, weasels, and utterly fearless alynx. On account of the great and ceaseless rain (The legacy of SkyRiver Titan), the entire country is dotted with rivers, mires and marshy gors. Their sole redeeming feature is that they contain innumerable eels, snapping turtles and large water wolves, with pickerals, roaches, burbots and lampreys, and sometimes salmon. From these products is made a fearsome fish sauce called blackburn or sticklepick, famed in more civilised climes but wholly repugnant to me after viewing the manner of its manufacture…

The elements reign here in frightful and eternal combat…

As for the Bluefoot, they build neither road nor village, but instead isolated walled steads, joined by treacherous and winding trails. They are rude and wild, though generous in their hospitality and childlike in humour. Their rituals seem entirely devoted to the taking of steam baths in sweat lodges of stone and earth — men one day, women the next, ancestors the third. They all bear fearsome tattoos, women and men both; and despite the constant bathing they never change their clothes. Worst of all, they drown themselves in cats and screaming children.

All in all, I was glad to rejoin the muddy track leading south from Ironspike, turning my thoughts to the civilised comforts and company of Alda Chur.

Jaxarte Whyded
The Journey through Far Point.