fiction

Beast Dog: A Fable Masquerade, Part I

The wood are a dreaded place–rooted in nature’s intricacy and filled with creation’s deceitful seeds.

Humans are no more.

Or, rather, trapped within a linear reality kept within the Book Keeper’s guard. Except now there is among us one who seeks to infiltrate the Headmaster’s masquerade and replace the Book Keeper’s role that they might enter the realm of man as a god to them.

I led the first raid against the supposed allegiance to the Obstructer, as we call him. With but rumors to go by and a loyalty unlike any other in sworn protection of the Headmaster and his Book Keeper, all our suspicions were affirmed and met in full opposition.

And I alone made it out alive.

I alone returned to bits of my homeland rising in bitter cold ashes.

Allied with the great plains’ observers, we are now set on entering the ball and finding the Obstructer before the murdering commences once more.

Yeah, me–a great dane known across the plains as Beast Dog. But my actual name is Reik, the last of the 106th Hunters. Revenge is not my primary. I am loyal to the Headmaster and the Book Keeper’s guard.

Yet here I am in the shroud of the dark woods, keeping my identity on the low so as not to become a suspect of my own demise.

They told me not to even come.

That they would handle the affair.

And while I trust the few who have stepped up to the task–while capable they may be–I know there is far more at steak than the intended hitlist of this Obstructer.

And besides, heh, its a masquerade.

I’ll be behind the mask.

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WRING THE OCEAN DRY (Intro)

“There was no WWIII. There was no EMP blast. There was just the Rhain, the Fludd, and the Drayn.”

-Admiral Kortel

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The Wanderous Nomadicus: The Journal of an Adventurer

It is hard picking a point-of-view to write in and sticking with it. First person, third person; present tense, past tense–but what is best for the book I am about to unfold?

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Ink to the Sound: A Birth of Words Heard

I am always being inspired. It takes a special kind of author to be able to self-create in mass volume, coming up with their own stories apart from any influence–which is a talent I will always strive for, but do not have.

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Fauldon’s Dream: Nobaph and the Outlands of Outreach

“Gathering what else I could, I came to Distontay and to the City of Ebony where I found hope of new birth as a smith of steel. But such trade bores me as it requires not the skill of a shard smith, and I have lost interest.

-Nobaph, the Shard Smith

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