Fable
Ame's Choice
Ame held her father’s hand tightly as she dropped from a large stone, landing with both feet in the mud below. They had come so far, and she didn’t know where they were going or why they had to leave home, but she had no choice but to hold her father’s hand and follow him. It was dark and cold. She wore simple, black clothes made of cotton, with no embroidery or patterns whatsoever. Her father next to her wore the same, with a shawl and a round hat made of straw. They would never have worn these sorts of things before tonight. Before tonight, they would have been riding horses, surrounded by guards and servants, but here they were, trudging through the forest outside the castle, alone.
By Jason Sultana3 years ago in Fiction
Dragons of Paranon
There weren’t always dragons in the valley; and THIS dragon now stood directly in the path of a weak boy and an innocent girl. The bravest and loudest of the boys had been right to fetch the warriors in time. Why, with decisions like this, he’d make a fine warrior himself one day…!
By Kent Brindley3 years ago in Fiction
Embers of Defiance
Morning broke over the rolling green hills of fair Cyphrol and the warm rays of the rising sun cast long shadows beneath Lyrigor’s massive form. The great red dragon eyed his target; a small out-of-the-way kingdom that lay unprepared for what loomed over its eastern horizon.
By Hank Ryder3 years ago in Fiction
The Smith
Sweat sprayed from the young man’s well-muscled ebony shoulders with each hammer blow, mirroring the sparks cascading from the singing steel he grasped tightly with his forge tongs. Penub wiped his brow, leaving a trail of soot in the wake of his hand. He blinked away the sting of perspiration from his eyes as he placed the steel back into the forge. Once the metal was restored to a white-hot glow, that could even be seen on a bright sunny day like this one, Penub resumed his hammering. The steel obeyed each hammer stroke and soon Penub lost himself in the repetitiveness of his work. When he could get in these grooves, he would become unflappable, and time often slipped away from Penub. Last time this happened an entire day was lost to him as he hammered out fourteen horseshoes, twelve swords and a year’s stock of carpenter’s nails before he snapped out of it. That time the entire day was lost to him. If someone had stopped by the forge to talk with him, he wouldn’t have known or at very least had no recollection of them doing so.
By K.H.A. Wassing3 years ago in Fiction







