Thorn of the Rose

“O Scourge of the Sea! Though long you have stalked me, no more shall you withhold your truth from me…

“…O Scourge of the Sea! I see the curtain has parted, your true form at last revealed to me.”

Thorn of the Rose

By A. Broadhead

Act One

The moonlight lit the paths leading away from the village square, silvering the hair and hoods of the wuyon’mari streaming into it. Its light was overpowered by the lanterns in the square itself however, shining blue and violet, green and gold, from the branches of the white-barked trees. Keelath took a sniff of the air, scented with herbs and exotic perfumes and all kinds of food.

The Long Dark holiday was in full swing. Continue reading “Thorn of the Rose”

The Nameless Accounts, Book One

The Kingslayer War.

The First Shadow Rising.

The akor’mari.

These words once struck fear across the continent of Talmenor. For the first time, the Nameless breaks his silence: how one akor’mar broke from the cruelty of his kind and came to govern the fates of many…

By A. Broadhead

the Nameless Accounts, scrolls 1 through 30

Originally scribed by Deft, rukh-bound to Magister Kali Hornsmith
Edited by Ezran Baenarn
Library of Castellea in Castellea, Tarith

Here follows the accounts of his memories, from earliest recalling to Cha'chk'rand'dala'he i.e. Swallowing-of-the-Dark in Sailor's Speech.

These scrolls are maintained by the Holy Order of Shen-Bahan, for the purposes of better understanding our enemies.

I was born many, many years ago, in the city of Vuzsdin.

My name is not important. I am not a hero, though some have called me that. I am not a villain, though many have given me that name as well.

I am an akor’mar.

The Surfacers would like to believe my home city, and my race, are no more. Vuzsdin was assaulted ages ago, broken, buried. The akor’mari were hunted, like we had so often hunted others. Broken, buried. The Surfacers believe they have ushered in a new era of peace now that we are no more.

But I know better. We are akor’mari. We always survive.

Perhaps my story will show that, that the old blood has not died out, that the akor’mar race still lives on. Maybe. Maybe not. It does not matter. This is my story.

I was born many, many years ago, in the city of Vuzsdin...


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