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Stephen Wormwood

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  1. Stephen Wormwood
    ********** The Tower of Penitence – Return to Manse de Foy – A King's Letter – The Hospice of St. Bosmund – The Bill & Bowman – The Spotted Hare – The Bloody Parley ********** Greatminster, The Lowburghs, Kingdom of Morland 76th of Spring, 801 FIFTY-TWO DAYS AGO The bones tire over time. Your proud height crumples. Your smooth flesh wrinkles. Your bright eyes cloud. Your loud voice croaks. His good wife, the Lady Mildred, said it was no small thing to age,
  2. Stephen Wormwood
    Hi drpaladin, I'm still a bit unfamiliar with this site so I had no idea I could respond to comments! (Cool feature!) Basically, there is a reason for Fran's current status but it isn't explained more fully until a future chapter. It's not really a spoiler, but the explanation will come.
  3. Stephen Wormwood
    ********** Thomas Wolner – The One Year Queen – ‘Just you and me’ – Lady Cecily – Meadow’s Court – Ill Tidings ********** The Old Lioness, Dragonspur, Kingdom of Morland 36th of Summer, 801 There was an ale-induced stumble in Edward Bardshaw’s step as he ferried two frothing flagons of ale over to Basil Smeadon’s table. It was their third of the morning, but he held his balance just long enough to get them over without a spilt drop. Ed set his friend’s cup down then gulp
  4. Stephen Wormwood
    ********** Portrait of a Prince, circa 799 – Woollerton Green – Prayers to the Lost – Negotiations ********** Clemence Palace, The Midburghs, Kingdom of Morland 19th of Spring, 799 TWO YEARS AGO Young King Oswald stood upright. Centre of the room, eyes up, chin high, arms folded tightly behind his back. There was much to say of his poise and demeanour – small as he was, he always stood tall. Good back muscles had he. The mark of a habitual rider. His tutor, Se
  5. Stephen Wormwood
    ********** Edward’s Gift – The Wallenheim Delegation – Manse de Foy – Invitation – The Blacksmith’s Boy – A Touch of Home ********** The Brinestone, Isle of Gead, Kingdom of Morland 88th of Summer, 790 ELEVEN YEARS AGO Fran had him by the hand as they ran. “Come on, Ed, not too far now! Not too far at all!” Easy for him to say! He hadn’t spent a long hot morning in session with Ser Martyn, practicing with training shields and sparring swords until his wrists
  6. Stephen Wormwood
    Highborn Francis Gray and lowborn Edward Bardshaw were once at the verge of a life-defining love… until the Imperial fleet destroyed their home and separated them. A decade later, fate sees fit to reunite them amidst a backdrop of political intrigue and surging public unrest. Can they rekindle their old spark? And if so, can it resist the echoes of history? After all, ten years is a long time, and neither Fran nor Ed are who they once were…
  7. Stephen Wormwood
    Greyford Manse, The Midburghs, Kingdom of Morland 75th of Spring, 772 The king’s entry was as crude and gormless as his rumoured manner. A rain-sodden cloak dragged behind his muddy boots, slapping hard across the black and white chequered floor of the reception hall. ‘Uncouth,’ thought Kat, bluntly, yet catching and chastising herself in the doing of it, for it was poor luck to impugn a king, even in the realm of one’s own mind. She resolved to light an extra candle for her sain
  8. Stephen Wormwood
    They called themselves investigators. Two men, both Royal Guardsmen, old by at least forty solstices. One had a quill, parchment, and ink. The other asked questions. Neither carried any weapons. Instead they brought a silver platter of water, wine, and buttered bread rolls. They chose a small room to host him (too cold and too close to the dungeons for Johanni’s liking), but they also provided a bear-hide cloak for him to keep warm with as their interview began. “Lord,” said the speaker. “If
  9. Stephen Wormwood
    In ancient times, as now, the Woags burned their dead. The scholars did not agree upon the original purpose of this tradition (though their consensus was that it dated back to their days of wandering the Hyperborean Steppe), and in recent years it was more customary, as in the elvish way, for the Woaggish nobility to bury their dead in crypts or barrows. And in ancient times, as now, the Woags commemorated their dead by carving posts or ‘staves’ from the tallest ironwood bark and inscribing them
  10. Stephen Wormwood
    Siege weapons were not native to the Woags. They were elvish imports (like many of Grünlund’s more recent technological advancements) but the knowledge of their construction was borne by the Royal Legion which was one of the many factors that made it such an effective fighting force – none of the other tribes possessed this knowledge. Until now. Groups of Thoth men loaded massive boulders into the slings and the siege engines hurtled them into the air to either crash into Snowhold’s wall
  11. Stephen Wormwood
    I heard voices before I saw faces. My God, Brandon! What were you two even DOING out there so late at night! That sounded like...? I was depressed about Leighann and Huey wanted to cheer me up, so we went out for a few beers and- Brandon? Beers? Drinking! What the hell is wrong with you, boy? When on God's good green earth will you ever grow up? Then I felt my aches. My head was pounding, DUN, DUN, DUN, and DUN, like a fucking heartbeat in my skull. My left side was on fire. Turning
  12. Stephen Wormwood
    The Bogeyman didn't haunt my dreams last night. Though I spent half the evening drawing him hunt through a snow-packed field, he didn't occupy my thoughts either. I got to thinking about Jamie Durkin. Thought about his brother Junior too, though I hadn't met him yet, but mostly I thought about Jamie. Every town has a bastard, I thought, Tuckettsville has him. I couldn't stand him. It was the catty fucking way he came up to Brandon in front of his friend and uncle and broke the news about Lei
  13. Stephen Wormwood
    Last night I dreamt of Bogeymanland; a lifeless, endless plane of barren forests and empty snowfields. Hard howling winds toss hailstones and frost hundreds of feet into the cold air where an unbroken sheet of dark grey cloud veils the sky. A river's waters lay frozen nearby, its pike and trout and sticklebacks long since suspended in time. A boy is crucified to the bony black limbs of an oak. The wolves beyond the trees, feral and hungry from too fond a familiarity with human meat, ta
  14. Stephen Wormwood
    Johanni shivered beneath his cloak watching the snow fall from a bone white sky upon the vast grey waters of the northern sea. He stood at the prow of the Dragon’s Eye as its oarsman (and a strong, chilly wind buffeting the linen sail) propelled the ship towards a distant yet distinctive landmass upon the horizon – the Deepfjord. Behind him the others mulled about the ship preparing for what was to come. A seated Norsa Hardfang drew a whetstone across her hafting axe, Gnut the Troll stocked
  15. Stephen Wormwood
    The guy sitting next to me, middle-aged and crown-balding, asked me what I called him. Unusually for me I wanted to answer. It's not like I wanted some long conversation or anything, but I dreamt of the Bogeyman for the first time in months last night, and to be honest, I'd been looking for an opportunity to talk about him with someone. "The Louisiana Monk," I said. I don't normally draw in public because it attracts too many curious onlookers and it telegraphed a bohemianism that wasn'
  16. Stephen Wormwood
    College freshman Huey McKee is unlucky in love and saddled with a bitter past he's strugged to bury. Rather than go back home for summer vacation, he wants to spend it with his best friend/roommate, Brandon Wimmer, in Florida. But as he starts developing feelings for Brandon's brother, a spiralling chain of events drags the weight of Huey's past screaming into the present...
  17. Stephen Wormwood
    No, you're right these chapters are huge and there's always a break between uploads. I'm going to try and trim each chapter down a bit and make more frequent updates. Thanks for the feedback!
  18. Stephen Wormwood
    Straining not to display his discomfort in front of the others, Johanni wiggled in his leather saddle, coaxing the white mare along the beaten herepath tract with his men. Yet no matter how he tried he couldn’t find a comfortable position. The ride north had been long, but his soreness had other origins too. The boy threw a secret glance over at Erik Halfspear, enswathed from shoulder to saddlebag in his wolf’s pelt cloak to blunt out the chilly winds hissing throughout the Osserian forests. Joh
  19. Stephen Wormwood
    Thanks! I love Skyrim too, its one of my favourite games of all time.
  20. Stephen Wormwood
    A blue mist rolled low and thick across the soup-like, moss-covered waters of the Great Marsh. The air was musty, and the stench of peat arresting, almost viscous. Johanni stuffed his nose into a bit of cloth as his white mare ferried him along. He flicked away the mosquitoes and dragonflies with his free hand. Every fifty yards a horseman encouraged the procession to keep moving; a train of more than 2500 Karggar souls (at last count), some as young as babes swaddled in their mothers’ arms
  21. Stephen Wormwood
    Thanks everyone, really appreciate the comments! 😋
  22. Stephen Wormwood
    Inside the Karggars’ mountain fortress there was a large hollow carved out of the cave wall and fenced by thatch. Beyond that was a tunnel, cold and dank, which led deeper into a honeycomb of interlocked caverns and cave tunnels. The old Karggar (who Johanni now knew as Olaf Greyspear) led the way to the largest of these caverns. Barred by an iron door and lit up by three roaring braziers; it was a 22-foot tall chamber turfed with sand and reed mats (pulled from the Oakmire’s bogs and woven toge
  23. Stephen Wormwood
    {You know all the steps!} Thought Johanni to himself, {you can do this!} His left foot forward, Eardwulf took the high guard; his sword held aloft in a two-handed grip. That meant he could only attack or counter-attack with a downward, vertical stroke. Offensively or defensively, he had only one attack at his disposal. {And he leaves himself open that way,} thought Johanni, {which means he wants me to attack!} In response the boy took the two-handed mid-guard. Eardwulf smirked.
  24. Stephen Wormwood
    A prince travels fierce territory to win support for his claim to the throne. But with his heart caught between two men, can he retain his focus?
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