I stumble to my feet. Where’s the sword? Bungisgan is clearly judging the merits of finishing off the helpless bravo with his dagger. I better interfere with a ploy, worst case he’ll just see through it like always. Yes, I make bold assumptions in the detailing of my play-acting; that comes as second nature to… Continue reading My Little Wizarding War
The demonstration of this grisly art is quickly finished and you are left contemplating on what to do next. Bungisgan, on the other hand starts to organize the expedition towards Saur at best possible speed. You are again struck by his ability to organize things, besides his obvious ailments. Perhaps his ability to function is… Continue reading Observation, realization, misinformation?
I am a bird, once again. A lark in a trap, or a cage. I flutter in confusion. It is all so familiar that I do not notice as the scene changes: I am home, a girl put through my paces. I have a bird whom I train, and it is to my merit when… Continue reading My Life as a Dreamcatcher
The following choices are made: I shall discover the secrets of presence and becoming – achieved by winning the Match. I shall kill, imprison or transform Bungisgan. – costs a pick. The Dreamer shall be destroyed. One pick is left, with three choices: Avoid being injured or deprived by Bungisgan | Otherwise Bungisgan hurts you severely.… Continue reading The Man from the Sand
The room is smallish, yet it is clear with one glance, that there are not many like this in the whole town of Tramellin. The wooden interior is filled with carvings and the walls decorated with heads of both real and imaginary creatures, hacked into the wood with a talented, if rough hands. Expensive carpets… Continue reading So it begins
It takes us until the morning to reach Tramellin. I do not begrudge the time, though, as the terrain really is dangerous: the stone in the Karst is soft, and the ever-present waters have taken their toll. Even the seemingly plain pasture-lands are dotted by treacherous holes and crevises, and there are spectacular signs of… Continue reading Tempering a Soapsman
I hesitate for a moment before moving to examine the body on the floor. This “Green House” may have been a house of hospitality at some time, but its glory days are clearly long in the past now: the once-luxurious viridian of the walls has largely flaked away, and the furniture is sparse and broken.… Continue reading A New Acquaintance