Sometimes there’s a little too much “story” in history. At least the way it’s usually taught; event A leading to war B leading to nations with borders C, forever and ever, amen.
As with anything else related to humans, this is way too simple. Continue reading
Ah, the Herald. Well, at least he wasn’t running. “Angry ghost!” Continue reading
He’s so small. Wei Wuxian looked over the bundle of cloth and baby the Herald was cradling, Continue reading
“All-natural” seems to be a comforting catchphrase these days. I’m not entirely sure why. “Made with all-natural ingredients isn’t as comforting Continue reading
A cold breeze cut through them. Not as much stench as Arvil had feared; the nights had been near frost. But more than enough. Continue reading
Maybe Bards sang some of the same spooky ballads in Rethwellan, or wherever he’d come from. Arvil was trying not to hear the lyrics whispering in his mind. Heralds were supposed to defend the innocent and uphold justice, not run off screaming like littles from a Sovven-night prank. Continue reading
There may be people who pick a genre specifically for its money-making potential and work from there. I write from the perspective that if you want to make money, you should give your reader your best possible work – and you write your best stuff when it’s something you love. Continue reading
“I’ll make good with you when we get back,” Arvil shot back over his shoulder as Graya started off. “That woman’s in trouble. We have to help.” Continue reading
“Charity only goes so far. A week you’ve been doing this, and it’s going to stop!” The shopkeeper’s muscles bunched, and Arvil briefly wondered if the man doubled as the blacksmith’s assistant. Continue reading
A/N: WP apparently being wonky, we’ll see if this post works as it should….
“Mud.” Herald Arvil sighed as they clopped their way down the road and into the village of Crispinstown. Continue reading