Category Archives for "High Fantasy"

Down the Dragon Hole

There was a sword-wielding buffoon on the library shelves again.  It took Alis a moment to notice him as this was unfortunately a fairly common occurrence.  The shouting caught her attention.  Libraries were generally meant to be quiet places, although wizard libraries were less quiet than other types of libraries.  But the loud booming voice of a bulky man shouting about the God of War and Victory stood out over the rest of the noise, even if it took Alis a moment to notice it.

Alis made an irritated noise under her breath and reluctantly turned away from her tome to properly scold the warrior. Honestly, she didn’t even know why they allowed such men into the Library. They never used it correctly anyway.

“Sir,” she called out, only a little bit polite. He did not acknowledge her. Alis sighed again, and stood up. This was ridiculous. She was a librarian. She had better things to do than deal with this.

He didn’t seem to hear her. He waved his sword around his head, trying to get the attention of the various wizards around him. They ignored him – as they should. They shouldn’t have to interrupt their research for this.

Sighing again, even louder this time, to make sure that all the students could see how put upon she was, Alis stood up and started to make her way closer to the warrior.

She couldn’t see his face very well, but he wore a full set of scored and worn leather armor, with dull chainmail beneath it. She was vaguely impressed that he had scaled up the library shelf so high and so quickly in that get up, but she squashed the thought. It was still rude and disruptive, no matter how physically notable the action was.

“Sir,” she said again, now that she was closer. This time he did hear her, and turned to look down at her. He had a bearded and handsome face, with blue eyes and shoulder length wavy brown hair. Of course he was handsome, weren’t they always? Did they even let ugly men join the ranks in the barracks downstairs? Rather than appreciating his appeal she dismissed it derisively.

“Are you listening? You need to get out!” He shouted down at her in a commanding voice. She ignored her body’s initial instinct to listen immediately to him.  He had obviously had command of troops before; he knew how to make people listen. But she wasn’t going to listen.

Now the other people in the library were beginning to take notice. Some of the younger students looked nervous.

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The Blacksmith and the Ice Elves

The sun had not been seen for days, and for days they had waited with baited breath. The winter winds from the dread mountains to the east had come early, and soon after them came the tales. By the time the deep and dark and unnatural clouds had rolled into Austr, they had heard all the stories from the fleeing small folk. They knew what was coming for them, but could do nothing but wait. The storms that came with blinding snow made it so they could not leave. So they waited in the bleak darkness for the great horrors from the mountains, a horror they could not stop as they were only a tiny town, and much greater towns had fallen before them. All of their men were gone on the king’s orders, to defend against the raids of Jötunheim. To fight against men, when monsters were pouring from the mighty peaks of the Andlàtbergs. They were alone, defenseless, and trapped.

Still, the few men that were left did what they could to fortify their town. Some of them attempted to dig an escape path into the woods for whoever could make it out, but the attempt was futile. The snow fell so heavily that any progress they made was covered over within minutes. Eventually, once they had done what they could or given up on shoveling snow, they settled down to wait, for there was nothing else to do.

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Wishing Only Wounds The Heart

A thousand whispers followed the path she tread, speaking words of death and fear for any who were perceptive enough to hear. That was not many in this place? They were too drunk, too troubled, or too dim to expand their minds enough to perceive. The ghosts who had died here recognized her for what she was, however, and their angry voices followed her as long as she walked the paths where they had been murdered.

Despite their general self-absorption, humans could sense her when she came too close. They could feel the fiery cold that crept up their spines in searing tendrils and then held their hearts in terror. Perhaps they couldn’t even tell that it was her, but they all felt it.

The streets had emptied early that night, far before she had even come. This was quite unusual, though the occasional person could still be seen staggering down the dusty roads. Hardly anything kept all the drunks, the foolhardy, and the fortune seekers off of the streets of Kei when there was money to be made.

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