Sunday, May 1, 2016

Sunday Inspirational Image: May Day

Happy Beltane! I hope your celebrations are as wild and exciting!


Beltane Fire Festival (2009) in Edinburgh

It's also International Workers Day. Sadly for hirelings and henchman, their unions rarely push for 5 day, 8 hours/day, working weeks, and they certainly don't worry about OSHA standards!


Saturday, April 30, 2016

The Wastelanders

His breath billowed white around him in the achingly cold air. The dark landscape felt alien. Shapes and shadows that didn't correspond to anything he thought of as normal. Frozen dirt, jagged rocks, and everything painfully dry.

"It is another 2 weeks before we will see the daystar again." his guide informed him.

With his hands on his knees he gasped, trying to control his body's reaction to this inhospitable place he asked "How can you tell? No sun, no moon, and the clouds have been covering the sky for... what feels like weeks."

"I just can. Come, we must keep moving."

"Where are you dragging me now."

"We must keep moving. This is a bad place."

He stumbled forward behind the guide. "Bad how?"

"There are... people... that live out here. Wild folk that have left civilization."

"Why would anyone want to live in this god-forsaken waste?"

"Because not all of the gods have forsaken it."


God of the Wasteland
This unnamed mad god grants his unfortunate followers the gift of near immortality. They will not die from lack of food or water, or exposure to the inhospitable wastelands that he claims as his own. Anyone who calls out for salvation from hunger, thirst, or cold in the wastelands will be given what they ask for. In return, they will worship him. His tenants are simple, and worship is accomplished through his followers insanity, and they are all insane. Driven mad by the touch of their god, they are like ghouls, forever hungry, forever cold. The hot wet flesh of those unfortunate enough to travel through the wastes will be consumed in a frenzy rending teeth and claw-like fingers.

Friday, April 29, 2016

Virginal Viragos

"There's just one rule: No men!" Callista yells in the torchlight.

"No Men!" The women scream into the night.

"Men are the enemy!"

"Men are the enemy!"

"Tonight we strike at the heart of those who would hold us back. The baron, his knights, his men-at-arms, his squires, his boys will be marching down that road. And when they do, we will be ready, and they... will be ours!"

The cheering rang through the woods, and the revelry lasted well into the night.

The following afternoon, when the baron was her prisoner, Callista leered at him with her tattooed face, her followers hooting and howling at the men on their knees.




The Viragos are a roving band of women who crop up in places where the local lords, sheriffs, and guild-masters use their power to take advantage of women. The power behind them is a warrior goddess, protector of women, who makes a woman so wronged, and turns her into an avatar of vengeance who is always known as Callista.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Un-Undead

"Live fast, die young, and enjoy a beautiful corpse for all eternity!" The party toasted, clinking their glasses together in the book filled study. The furniture had been shoved out of the center of the room, plush chairs lined the walls interspersed with side tables, a globe and even the great desk and tables of ornately carved and highly polished wood.

The revelers were all richly dressed in ornate fashions of yesteryear. Young men and women, barely out of their childhood in clothing out of style when their parents were their age, and all had their faces painted as ornate and somewhat abstract skulls. Smudges of which ended up on their wine glasses after the toast.

Observing them, standing alone in the shadowed corner in clothing that was even more out of style than that of the infants before her was a woman whose face was unpainted, and whose hand held no glass. The partygoers could feel her watching, knew who she was, and yet not one would look directly at her, though she was the entire reason for the gathering. It's difficult to look death in the face. she thought to herself. They still think they're immortal.


Successful vampires are patient. They know they have time on their side. Time to corrupt the children of your enemies, or their grandchildren. They also know how to entice those children with promises of eternal beauty. So it is that the children of the rich and powerful join these clubs of the pre-undead. Sometimes a few of them are even turned into vampires. Most are merely charmed, used, and tied to the vampire for the rest of their lives, acting as the vampire's puppets in the daylight.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Tunnel Tormentors

The sound of the drumbeat echoed down the rough stone passage. The slimy stone walls were latticed with colorful looking molds that added to the pungent bouquet of earthy rotting aroma that was nauseatingly sweet. Over the drumbeat, the sound of soft flesh inching it's way over the floor, coming closer.

Into the chamber they crawled, pink fat worm things. Behind them the tormentors poked and prodded them forward with their perverted shepherd's crooks. Sharpened steel replacing the rounded wooden top.The drummer came last into the chamber. As the worms were gathered together into the pen within the circle the brethren waiting for them in the chamber were finishing the outer form of the circle.

The candles were lit, the words spoken. The brethren stood around the chamber, chanting, drumming, and thumping their crooks. And suddenly there was a man standing in the circle. No flash of light, no puff of sulfuric smoke, no ground shakes, just... there. The drumming and chanting faltered as they all looked at him.

He was dressed in rich black fabric, embroidered with black. His thin beard and short hair was well trimmed, and the only real sign of his otherworldly nature were the small tips of horns protruding from his forehead. He looked down at the worms grubbing around in the pen with him. They were making a mewling noise, and the demon's lips curled in disgust.

"Next time, you can leave them out of the circle." the demon nudges the worms away with his tooled black leather boots.



Demons trade in souls, and while they prefer living souls that are given willingly, they are also willing to accept "used" souls. Usually these are captured at the moment of death, often by curse or other magical means. Sometimes they form when the body is killed by a powerful undead. They eventually manifest as small pink worms with baby faces. Depending on how they're cared for, they can grow and develop in a variety of ways. Some like making them fat while simultaneously torturing them, twisting them into an unrecognizable abomination that's perfect to transform into a demon.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Starshadow Gazers

The moon hung low over the jagged mountain tops, casting her pale glow that stole the colors from the world. Thin wisps of clouds did little to hide her pregnant face, nor the stars aligning on this, the shortest night of the year. While the darkness would not last long, it would not be wasted. The quintet of figures climbed the stone steps. In front, striding up the stairs two at a time, impatient to begin, Kexxor Night-Watcher wore his ritual helm, complete with great brass horns and skull face plate. His muscled chest and arms were bare, and his hair blew in the mountain breeze.

Behind him, Tamax and Xamis dragged the sacrifice between them. Her arms were bound in iron chains, and her body bare but for the loin cloth. Bruises covered her arms where the chains bit too tightly, and her feet were scraped and sore from the rough stone.

Atop the mountain, a silent mass of hooded figures waited.  Kexxor stood facing the silent congregation. Slowly he drew his silver dagger, holding it up in the moonlight. And turned to face the sacrifice. Xamis shoved her to her knees, and they pulled hard on the chains, stretching her arms wide. She closed her eyes and turned away from the sight of the blade held above her.

The blade plunged deep into her chest, , piercing her skin, sliding cleanly between her ribs, and skewering her heart. Her body shuddered, and she let out a single soft gasp when Kexxor pulled the knife swiftly out. Tamax and Xamis relaxed their hold on the chains, and the sacrifice slumped forward. Blood pooled beneath her kneeling form.

As the blood stained the rock, the silvery light of the moon was also stained and crimson light shined down upon the world. In the shadows between the stars, something stirs at the sight of a blue orb turned red...




Between the stars that burn so brightly are shadows, dark and primordial that hide things. Out in the fringes, unseen things older than demons and gods lurk waiting for the light of those stars to burn red, to die... There is power in that silence, that darkness, out in the void, and if you're willing to call upon it. 
Introduction of the Nox Eternia