Celian

Dremakk couldn’t have said how the ceremony was structured or what the priest was saying. He knelt when he was supposed to, stood when given the signal, and repeated the words he was supposed to repeat. The figure beside him, clad in pure white, trembled as he held her hand and whispered the words so softly they were barely audible. When it was time to lift the veil, a chalk-pale girl appeared from beneath it, her lower lip trembling. Everything in Dremakk rebelled against slipping the deli

I have plans for probably a dozen stories, most of them on the shorter side. I tend to agree... Yeah, Karla and Violet represent two extremes and neither is helping a truly scared bride. Though to be honest, there are not that few woman out there who admire certain anatomical parts...

Susanna tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling in the dim light cast by the glowing spots on the wall. The nightgown they had given her was incredibly soft, as was the mattress she was lying on. But she couldn’t sleep. She felt as if she were sinking into the softness, suffocating. Ever since she’d set foot inside the mountain, nearly every breath had been torture, as if the air itself were dead down here. Every stone passageway looked the same; the dim twilight robbed her of any sense o

Just when he thought he'd hit rock bottom, he got thrown even lower... At least Susanna will learn that the orc she's afraid of is not the raping monster she imagines...

In a world where humans and orcs are forced to live in symbiosis, not everyone can choose for themselves how to live their life. And often enough it's forced to take an unexpected turn, same for Susanna and Dremakk. Some turns are negotiable, though...

Someone entered the large tent, bringing with them a refreshing breeze. Susanna took a deep breath and turned the cup in her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the orc shaman, who had been sitting on one of the crates for a while, scrutinizing the group of young women. He made her nervous. A forced giggle from one of the women reached her ears, and she swallowed, but her mouth was dry. When she raised the cup to her lips, she realized it was empty. Not that the mushroom beer

Letters between the sisters Elisabeth and Catherine; unrightfully copied by a courier. Dearest Sister, There are only a few months left until the tithe, and I’m so excited! Mother bought me a new dress, it’s a very pale yellow, and we’re currently embroidering the hem with little green clay beads; it’s turning into a beautiful vine pattern. I wish you could see it. Aunt Agatha has braided one of those leather strands with colorful beads in it. Actually, there are two: one for my neck

Legend says, she got severely hurt in a battle against The Void and needed a save place to rest and heal. Shortly thereafter bits and pieces of the Frosty Shield aka moon well into the swamp, which the orcs interpreted as their call to help protect the world. By now recreating a proper timeline is difficult, because the orcs started writing down things for real preservation only after reaching the mountains, as to not lose their past.

Before the orcs came as protectors, and honestly even now, the humans are somewhat crippeld by their fear of the void beasts. Their seafaring doesn't reach farther than the island off the coast; and otherwise they would never venture further than where the silverdrop bushes grow. The centaurs are not exactly keen on crossing an unknown desert either (and no one else as well). I do think, however, that the old orcs, before the happenings leading to the exodus, knew more of what lies east of the swamps. If the legends are true, they probably deemed it too unhealthy to try to get involved with two unknown forces constantly at war.

Extract from: Myths and Legends, Section 1: Foundations: The Number 8 by Wilfried Riverside (Note from the publisher: this print is unedited since its first edition. In the nearly 100 years since then, some of the written down information might have changed.) The number 8 is deeply interwoven with orc culture. This begins with the fact that the Old Mother designated eight orc women as her chosen daughters, making them both high priestesses and the matriarchs of the eight cl

Lots of fairytales and such end with a kiss or a wedding and then fade to "and they lived happily ever after". This is... like the dark heart-broken version? I mean I promised heartbreak already in the title. Thokk is only 21, his grand plan stemmed from youthful hubris and a short-sightedness regarding the plans, motivations and feelings of others. Warriors may not make up the majority of society, but they lead it, and shamans are therefore on the margins. As we saw at the beginning, Thokk also deliberately chose not to integrate, even though he could have, there were enough warriors his age around for him to make friends. He lacks the social skills that Henry, as part of active village life, definitely has, and which have allowed him to listen and draw conclusions, whereas Thokk arrogantly snaps at servants, doesn’t bother to learn names, and follows rigid role models. Now it all depends on how Thokk acts from here on, how he develops. Either he’ll break and plunge the court into ruin, or he’ll become a not-quite-so-gray eminence who shapes the court with a cold, shamanistic hand. (I lean toward the latter, besides, he’s too proud to run after Henry.)

Those questions remain for your fantasy for we will move forward in the series of little stories.

As they passed through the heavy gates granting entry beneath the mountain in this region, Thokk felt deep within himself the nervous unease that was evident in Henry. The time for long conversations and gentle touches before falling asleep was over—for now. The group quarters available to travelers inside the mountain offered no privacy whatsoever. But even more than that, Thokk was worried about the court. He had left it, barely organized, for weeks. Korgar had no idea how to lead and did

That for sure.

Henry has every possibility to thrive!