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The Apostate Saint: Chapter 23 – Crossing the Line

Andrew Michael Miller2 Comments

Valoricus never carried a sword, though he, like all the Cabalarii men since the time before the Fall, had come of age with years of combat training under his belt. The greatest of his ancestors - the generals and consuls of the countless civil wars that led to the downfall of mankind - had effectively set the tone for the family that no man in that line of succession had dared challenge, even over two millennia later. He came from exceptional stock; his was one of the only families from that time in the City's history who could still trace back their heritage - and name - to the great heroes of the past. He didn't need to carry a sword; he was royalty as much as any man could be in a City with no king, and nobody would disrespect the honor of the City so much to threaten anyone in a family of such historical import.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 22 – “Ass Water”

Andrew Michael Miller2 Comments

The splitting headache that accompanied Alaric's return to consciousness was simply overwhelming. The weakness he felt in his joints and muscles was another low note in an already unpleasant awakening. The last time he felt anything near this amount of discomfort, he had spent the entire night cavorting to excess with the actors, singers and artists down in Pravus Alley. On that occasion, Alaric's father must have figured out where he had been all night because he woke Alaric up before the sun and forced an extra training session upon him. As horrible as that hangover was, the way he felt this morning was significantly worse.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 21 – In the Twinkling Stardust

Andrew Michael Miller2 Comments

The rush of adrenaline and otherworldly power, though waning, still coursed through Fridok's body as he moved as one with the group to their new camp for the night. It took Fridok and Bulgar every ounce of their willpower to be able to reach the stonewall encampment and their companions. They cut through countless demons and stacked their bodies one atop the other so that they could ascend the wall and come to the aid of their brothers-in-arms, but their efforts had proven successful in the most grandiose fashion. Because of this, Fridok at last seemed to be on the cusp of gaining the one thing his heart had always longed for: acceptance.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 20 – Graveyard of a Thousand Unburied Demons

Andrew Michael Miller3 Comments

The terrifying screech immediately thrust Alaric out of his sleeping position and back into a panic. He was exhausted from the day's travels and missteps and was just starting to let down his guard when the screaming demon once again ripped away all sense of security. He covered his ears, which would have probably sprung forth blood under the auditory assault, but quickly realized that he would have to endure the sound in order to properly defend himself. For though he could not see the demon herself, he immediately took notice of perhaps hundreds of other creatures, clamoring toward their camp at rapid succession. He let go of his ears and reached for it - the Soularm he had been granted as one of the chosen. There was no more hesitation - now was the time for all of them to prove whether the Son had made a mistake or not.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 19 – What Was Seen in the Darkness

Andrew Michael Miller1 Comment

"I look like a complete fool and you know it," Fridok said, hiding no part of the shame he felt for having so thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of all of the warriors with whom he was supposed to be in league. Alaric didn't try to deny what Fridok felt, even though he likely wanted to make him feel better. Kind words though his friend may try to offer, the fact remained that Fridok had nearly died because of his complete lack of spatial awareness. Sure, the chasm he had fallen into was well-hidden from the direction where he and Alaric started their ill-fated race, but that was an excuse fit for normal men, not the City's finest. The world was supposedly filled with demons lurking around every corner; there was no place for a warrior who didn't adequately prepare for every possible danger that lie in wait. That kind of foolishness could easily spell not only his own downfall, but put every other member of the party in jeopardy as well.