Fiendish Drapery, A Study of You, Gangrel Were Awesome, Dark Sorcery Indeed, and St. Augustine Would Be Proud…

You can find the ever-growing list of “Better Than Nothing” items  over on the right. Read ‘em, like ‘em, share ‘em, and comment.

Blisterkrau Shroud

“I do not love you, Quix. I don’t even hate you. I regard you in the same way I regard the paper on which I scribble my careful messages or the base metal I forge into something of use. You’re mortal, which means you’re one of millions times millions of pestilential, short-lived things in this world and all others that I may use for a larger purpose.

“Should I tell you my purpose? Again? I’ve told you before, of course. Your mind cannot hold its grandeur and naturally burns itself free of the knowledge each time. You used to speak clearly, that stutter is a sign you’re slipping more. Your soul cannot handle the burden of my majesty. But, because it makes me laugh and happy, I’ll tell you again.

“Sshhhhh, careful boy, shhhh. No crying yet. I haven’t even started. You’ll need to steel yourself, you always scream at the end…”

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Play the Madness, Been Re-Reading Fables, A Cheap Trick, Tiny Lair, and Blessed Nonsense.

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Kortholt of the Brigh Delac

“The Congregation wiles and pomps,
For ever day and shine again,
When Revelrie and Revelire,
Set to dance the feet of men,
The king! The king! In tally grey!
No clever boy denies the fae.

While the song pipes on and on,
And while the lights burn bright and strong,
And breathless servants play along,
There’s no time left to die today.”

–written in blood in the underjail of Kremen Hold

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Showstopper, Still Watching Too Much Daredevil, and Power Is Neither Created Nor Destroyed…

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Lament of Naamah

As Raxaia took her first step toward the throngs of buzzing, salivating, angry things she could feel the tension in the air behind her. They were out-numbered ten or twelve to one, if not more. The twisted creatures of the deep chattered angrily at the group, their dead and pale eyes focused on nothing, but their keen hearing more than able to locate the intruders.

Broadways closed his eyes, holding his shield before him, waiting for the tide to break and the things of the dark to swarm. He mouthed a prayer, the very act of piety made Raxaia uncomfortable. He barely tolerated her on the best days, and for her to bring her Partner’s influence to bear here was almost too much for him. It was a fortunate thing he knew enough of the world to tolerate a good tool, even if it had a dark origin.

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Perfect Form, The Onslaught, and a Red Right Hand…

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Tides of Wile

Lyra’s form was perfect, each movement written in space and punctuated with certainty. Khyraxsis, dreaded golden wyrm and the Harrower of Brightkeep, was cold and silent with each blow. The beast rocked back on her haunches and her gaze narrowed in concentration and barely disguised fury.

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Save the Cheerleader, Righteous Spell Deflection, and Like “Frozen” But Scarier…

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Keeper of Ravin

I’ve got ya’. I’ve got ya’. Breath—in and out—that’s it. And don’t move. You don’t want to know what that leg feels like when you try and move.” Crawss cradled the young captain’s head in one thick hand and put pressure on his chest with the other. All around them, the sounds of chaos and battle shrieked and clanked and screamed and groaned on.

Kwile was dying. Or had been. He wasn’t sure. He remembered the blow, remembered the moment the world when bright and painful white and then dropped into pure quiet darkness. He remembered the smell of saffron and had no idea why.

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A Book of Ends, A Book at the End, and A Book That Never Ends…

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Viscount Ecchi’s Register

“Ain’t you gonna shiv ‘im, Bearl?” the brick-jawed brigand asked, mouth agape and still half drunk from this morning’s little bit of robbery.

“Yea, Bearl. Jus’ stick it in ‘im–go on. Or, fucks, I’ll do it mine own self, if yer want”, more suggestions from the gallery of idiots Bearl Webb had managed to gather in his five years of clean highway banditry.

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Birth from Death, Cult-mastering, and Locking Minds…

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Muria’s Jessamine

Kwen Chi knelt over Twidward’s body, holding his hand as the dwarf slowly succumbed to his injuries. He was dying. Whatever foulness the creature tainted him with would kill him. There was no doubt about that. And all the monk’s stern resolve, all the cleric’s prayers… none of it would save him.

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