Recent Entries

  • A Different Kind of Sword

    Sigmar had stepped across an unmarked threshold, it seemed.  From the bustling Dwarven District – bright and busy in the midday winter sun, crowds of traders milling to and fro, armorers’ tools and anvils clanking – to the reserved, orderly, and quiet district bank.   I...
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  • To Those That Come After

    Evening.   It was evening in Wintergarde.  The light of day faded through the inn’s great second-story windowed doors, a pleasant orange and red rarely seen this far north.  Sigmar studied the glass as it morphed and weakened with the slow passage of time, watched it go dim wi...
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  • The Bill After

    Sunlight stabbed at Sigmar through misted windows, squeezed its way between his eyelids.  He groaned, pawed his face and rolled away from the wall.  Nearly fell off his cot.  It was morning, to be sure, but late.  Close to noon.  He peeled his eyes open and just as quick squ...
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  • To Marksman Wildsabre

    Reply to this letter   Sir Wildsabre,   Your letter has reached my hands.  Fortunate, perhaps, because I've spent most of the past week searching for your order.   I reside in Stormwind, and spend most of my days here.  I would be willing to meet at any point after hal...
  • Cobblestone Echoes

    Stormwind has changed.   I don’t quite remember how many months it’s been since I departed for Northrend.  Twelve?  Sixteen?  Up north the days bleed into nights, and the nights into days, and the weeks slip by in endless twilight, until a year goes uncounted and al...
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