Tag: #fantasy

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 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.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 18 – The Art of the Deal

Andrew Michael Miller1 Comment

"Easy now, you know I'm good for it. You wouldn't doubt a friend of the Son, now would you?" ART, after pulling his tunic sloppily over his sweaty, sticky upper half, reached down to the ground to pick up his belt that was discarded prior to this present acting out of his prurient interests. The whore lying next to him was far better looking than Art could afford in regular times, but this was no regular time, for Namer's sake. The fact that Art had the option to run away at all if things got out of hand was a great anomaly for Art's life. Up until the present circumstances, he had been living in alleyways, forced to beg or steal just to make it another day because of the debilitating handicap of missing both of his legs. But that was the old Art. This Art had gotten better.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 17 – The Deadlock

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"Regardless of all of that, the fact remains that we now look like complete fools, utterly unprepared for disaster that could be just around the corner. We must do better to understand the dangers that lie in wait, or we have no one to blame, save ourselves, for the inevitable downfall of our institution." Senator Hector Salinator had gotten bolder ever since he first campaigned for the office of Senate Consul, the seat which he lost to Kaius Tegula who was now serving his second consecutive year in said role. Ever the opportunistic politician, he found the chaos of the Stranger's arrival to be the ideal opening to up his combative rhetoric against Kaius, who he undoubtedly considered his rival. VALORICUS CABALLARIUS, on the other hand, saw disunity in the Senate during great societal upheaval as a larger threat than the cult of personality. The Senate had a way of dealing with charismatic men; it did not have a protocol to follow to deal with a lame legislature and constant in-fighting in times of crisis - aside from the sparsely-used tool of electing a dictator.

The Apostate Saint: Chapter 16 – Into the Abyss

Andrew Michael Miller1 Comment

"Help!" shouted Alaric, seeing Fridok's body bounce off the walls of the crevasse that neither of the two had seen before starting their ill-fated race. The sound of the wet but solid impact of Fridok against the hard cave floor echoed upward and reverberated throughout Alaric's head like a sudden fortepiano bar in an otherwise soft, gleeful melody. He felt the absence of that sound even louder than the sound itself. To Alaric, there was little chance that Fridok was alive after a fall like that, but he hoped that perhaps the impacts against the sides were enough to mitigate the damage of his friend's descent. There was only one way to find out.