Beneath an unfamiliar, unfinished, velvet tunic, Fruyr sucked in his stomach and jerked away from the sharp tip of a sewing pin. If a pinprick drew a droplet of blood from his veins, the scent of fresh, warm, Elvish blood would surely arouse bloodthirst in the smooth-skinned, silver-haired maidservant, who steadily bedecked Fruyr in luxurious, hand-sewn attire, as befit a houseguest of Clan Dafyunesh. Fruyr marveled at how his vampire seamstress unnerved him. He had never been so skittish as to duck away from a needle before…
Author Archives: zreshicaia
Night of the Dark Moon Watching
It was October, the month of the Dark Moon Watching. As usual, Kiben Tel’rim brimmed with excitement. Evil’s favored month fascinated him. It was a chance for something to happen…
Sons of a Soul Split: Chapter Three
Though a gargantuan, silvery moon raised over the blackest, bleakest landscape known to elfkind, its moonbeams scarcely outlined the peaks of mountains and the topmost branches of trees, and they lit nothing beneath the sky. The sunless realm never warmed. Its damp atmosphere smelled stagnant and stale, much like the upper interior of an icy cave, where everything drips, and nothing dries. The moist air encouraged steady growth of mildew and fungi. The debilitating darkness of Zaliradai blinded Kimio, but the senses provided by his pointed ears, delicate nose, and sensitive skin instantly sharpened…
Sons of a Soul Split: Chapter Two
Fruyr descended through the dense, eerie mist that flooded the field beneath the old cabin and the ethereal door. The lake of mist destabilized and displaced the solid earth, which moments ago supported Fruyr’s weight, as he dashed to Kimio’s rescue. Tiny water droplets bespeckled Fruyr’s tan skin, his bright, red-orange hair, and his soiled village clothes. The leathery, gnarled hands that dragged him under, dragged him deeper and deeper into a biting, otherworldly cold, until the droplets crystalized, and the chill crept into Fruyr’s bones…
Katheermor: Unifying Traditions
Wondering what binds the ever-warring Katheermor together as a single species? This anthropological lore post outlines and explains important facets of unified Katheer culture.
Elferan/Elvish
By now you have probably noticed not every strand of dialogue is written in Common on this site. There are words and phrases written in Elferan (A.K.A. Elvish) in many of my stories and poems. Elferan is a magical language, spoken by elves, and frequently used to cast spells. Check out this lore post for a brief introduction to spells, and for translations from Elferan to Common.
Sons of a Soul Split: Chapter One
Kimio dropped beneath a thorny, overhanging arm of the monstrous blackberry bramble that concealed his and Fruyr’s fort from less inquisitive eyes. The moist residue of a late, spring rain muddied the lining of an abandoned burrow, which served as the fort’s natural entryway. Kimio slid down the burrow, soiling the light-colored linen of his trousers, wearing out the traction on the soles of his sandals, and caking his bare toes in mud. He landed on the muddy floor of the single-chamber fort, with a squirming, squealing piglet tucked under his armpit…
Harpaphe Haydeniana
A many-legged, miniscule marauder, / A stealthy, silent soldier, / Feeds upon the decaying and the dead. / With a mouthful of rusty needles, / He fertilizes the forest floor, / Decorates his shiny, black, skeletal armor, / With mustard-yellow war paint, / Warns away the furry, bucktoothed giants, / And the feathered, beaked pilots, / Tempted to pierce and crack / The forest infantryman’s bony plates, / And receive a mouthful of cyanide…
A Hiatus
Enclosed within a small, dark space, twelve-year-old Oaklyn sat uncharacteristically still, and with her knees pressed tightly against her chest. The moon plucked waves from the body of the sea. The waves tossed the boat that rode them. The boat rocked the wooden crate that carried Oaklyn to who-knows-where. Her stomach churned. Designed to transport produce, not people, the rough wood of the crate splintered Oaklyn’s tender, bare feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she remembered how her day began…
Discordance
I should have ignored the music box. A twinge in its familiar song drew me out from under the bedcovers. I feared the disrupted lullaby might startle the baby awake, but the baby snoozed, and still, I was restless. I swung my legs over the side of my bed and gingerly lowered my feet to the floor. I tiptoed around the toys scattered about the floor and snuck across the room to the small end table beside the baby’s crib. I swiped the music box from the table, turned it over, and inspected its winding key. I spun the key thrice before I realized my mistake; I had not opened the box. I flipped the box over and opened the lid no more than an inch. My fingertips curled over the rim of the box, halfway in and halfway out. I paused and blinked…
Endlesslore 