(( An off-season short horror story. I don't think I've ever posted this one, seeing that it's been sitting in my WIP folder for a while so.. Have at it! ))

Cold wind ravages the outer magical shields that surround the interloper, yet all he feels is a gentle winter breeze. He marches through the apathetic snow on a path that hasn't been used in years, a path that he'd never used before yet knows like the back of his hoof. There in the Frozen North, where the Siren's curse buried whole kingdoms in frost, he will find his quary. Nestled on the side of a mountain range, a lone castle overlooks the long-abandoned valley. The river that once gave it ...

This is nice. It ain't often that Frost Tear is able to leave her house in the Whispering Woods, the world is a dangerous place after all and only His presence can keep her safe. With the Evergrowing by her side, nothing can bring her harm! Not even the dubiously cheap (yet large) hayburger she's currently munching on, it is definitely a very healthy meal for this Tuesday afternoon. As the cold autumn breeze rolls through the park, she wonders if her supernatural companion is capable of feeling...

 Zerathur can hear them downstairs. The clattering of kitchen utensils being washed by the automata; The chatter of daughter and mother as Spore and Astria idle by the fireplace; Erian hammering away at some new wacky invention down in the basement. An unchanging reality, a long awaited and well deserved dream come true. Everything he wished for, the return of all he once loved and the life that was robbed from his very grasp.  He reaches upwards with his mind, his consciousness slips through...

She had done as she was told. The doors and windows were closed and locked, the curtains had been shut and all of the lights in the house had been turned off. All of the lights, except that of her room; She could not sleep, no matter how much she tried, for the sound of the woods outside of her house were too weird and haunting. The eerie feeling of being watched crept into her mind whenever she closed her eyes, it was simply impossible. A light flickered outside her window, flashing briefly ...

Dr. Lindsley's Report 29th entry. 04/05/1056 A.N. 08:00 PM ...

Dr. Lindsley's Report 28th entry. 02/05/1056 A.N. 04:35 PM ...

Dr. Lindsley's Report 26th entry. 26/04/1056 A.N. 05:22 AM ...

Alone, the Chloromancer roamed the dark sea. Were those seconds, or were they entire eons passing right before his eyes? Waves crashed upon the cold hull of the steerless metallic ship, yet no matter how much it rocked, the ship would never sink. No matter how often he tried, he could not jump into the dark waters below. With his book of memories held close against his chest, Zerathur hummed songs of old, and another voice joined his chorus. Sat upon the taffrail, The Traveler examined the o...

It is done. Their memories were compiled and adequately rewritten to further fact from fiction. Did it take him long to revise his work, or did it take no moment at all? Zerathur closes his book and carefully cradles it in his arms. Every lover, every friend, every acquaintance, forever with him. None of them shall ever be forgotten. The breeze died millennia ago; The endless forest was illuminated solely by the illusionary phantoms that moved back and forth in their unending routine. ...

Eadil is a Necromancer. It is common in his kind's folklore for healers and medics to arrive too late to save the heroes who've fallen in the great battles of old, those born with the natural affinity of healing often mocked as 'healers of the dead': A pejorative term turned official with the consolidation of the Velgraviran Empire. As he stares at the skulls piled upon his desk, he curses the irony. He wasn't here to help those who needed it when they were hurt, much like the 'Necromancers' of ...

Waves crash upon the golden sands of the Southern Shores. Seagulls fly above, silent fireworks explode in the distance. His shoes sink into the damp sand, and the maritime breeze of the early evening fills his lungs. "Zera?" A feminine voice calls out, prompting him to turn his head to look over to its source. Even though she was heavier than him, the changeling mare skips next to him with unparalleled grace, not leaving a single mark where she stepped. Her purple mane flows along the win...

Ever since they moved to the proximity of the Whispering Woods, Frost Tear's parents warned her of the dangers of the forest. Never explicitly so, keep in mind, for legends and myths are perhaps one of the best ways to elicit a child's imagination. Tales of trees that walk on their own, that snatch up lost children, and poof, they are gone. On her eighth autumn, she found that trees were the least of her worries. Instead, it was they who shielded her from Fletcher's eyes. Her father took her...

Bellowing roars and guttural screeching from below marked the entrance of this cave as the only way into their Hive. And yet, despite the stench of blood and bone, the corruption that spreads through air and land, there was no one at the door. Not a single insectoid guarded the area, only the carpet of flesh that pulsated with a heart and mind of its own. As he trudged through the snow and stepped into this revolving putrid mass, its tendrils latched onto his hooves but were not able to stop his...

The Archmage sits alone in his kitchen, pale blue eyes focused entirely on the grimoire before him. No matter how he weaved and twisted the words and glyphs, it felt like he could never finish this spell without the proper components. And those would be simply impossible to gather! How on Khas' sacred lands could one find crystals of such magnitude so far North? A knocking at his front door briefly distracts him from the empty parchment. He eyes the kitchen's doorway and holds still for a cou...

As the day turned into night, the golden city of old came to life. Orbs of light flickered into existence, illuminating the recently cleared-up streets and spires; dozens of hundreds of ghostly silhouettes roamed the plazas, parks, and suspended walkways; flags and decorations strung between buildings waved with the passing wind of the Frozen South. This wasn't Antioch as they remembered it, but they've done so much progress in the last couple of weeks that they simply could not let the opport...

There were no birds here, at least none that she could hear. There were no insects either. This deafening silence was only broken by the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant flow of a brook deeper into the forest. Her eyes dully counted the fragments of metal and stone that once composed one of the walls of her now ruined home, feeling as though her mind was about to give in to the deepest states of boredom at any moment. Quarantine, he called it. One hundred years away from one's pe...

A twisted visage, a creature most foul, wearing the skin of one who once was her prized best friend. Her thoughts converged, so did her feelings, and while at first she was terrorized by the fiend that stood on those grey shores, her fear was turned into a wave of blazing anger. , She thought, . Not a second had passed since his words left the creature's mouth when she began to retaliate. The mare jumped forward, twisting her body mid-air and using her psionics to empty the contents of her pouc...

"As deft as rocks swimming upstream." Words that forever marked her early teens. Spoken in these selfsame shores, back when the sand was just as golden as the city behind them; when the clear blue ocean only gave way to the white foam of the waves, the beautiful sounds of nature clashing with that of their boombox, their laughter, their taunts. They're gone now. The golden sand has turned grey, ruins lay where a great city once did. With the bay closed by the carcass of a great ship, even ...

Perhaps the worst of it all was the sickly smell of decomposing leaves, Fletcher was never a fan of the Fall season for that very reason. Mist crept through the trees, crawling up their roots and wrapping around his legs as he made his way through the woods. He didn't mind the cold, he didn't mind the dark, those had become oh-so natural to him over the last few years. What truly bothered him was that smell, decay. The certainty that all things are one day to whither and rot. He halted by ...

It isn't often that a story ends with the death of its protagonist, at least not the stories sung by the bards or written in the common books. This one proved to be no different. However, unlike the other stories, this wasn't the tale of one born with great power tearing down the evil of their homeland, nor that of a simple commoner rising and winning against the otherwise impossible. This is the story of one who has done nothing but flee. And flee he did. ...

World lore, anyone? Because you know, universe building is the only thing I'm somewhat okay at? Right, right, so, I did this thing a while ago and said I was going to update that one specific blog as I came across old bits of lore in the Dreams of Lothlorien folder. But! I'm lazy and am currently sleep-deprived (Not a good combination to even write in the first place), so now you have an entirely new blog about the exact same thing. - (There was another piece on it on the last one, but there'...

// Low quality lore post, because that's all that you get. "Oh, for how long have I searched for you, my friends?" Atop of a hill, amidst the snow, a large patch of blue flowers grows. Even in the harshest of temperatures, when all other plants hide away, they stand there and glow their soft hues. Some would consider this a pleasant, albeit uncommon, sight. But others... They knew that these plants were nothing to be in awe by. Any folk with the slight knowledge over the psionic powers cou...

"And that should conclude the class for today, not a lot more to learn about the simple acronyms. The test's tomorrow, as y'all probably know by now, but if you paid enough attention to your High Khalani classes, there's really no reason to spend the night awake studying more. Oh, and don't send me questions at two AM, I'm not going to respond... Looking straight at you, Yenn." One by one, the students made their way out of the small park. A colorful bunch of immigrants, they were, all of the...