Tag: Donovan

Hamartia, Epilogue

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Hega Perdugal lived in Old Seamoore, a section of town which, as the name suggests, resembled the city as it was before it divorced the world beneath it. Unlike those of her neighbors, Hega’s home was made of stone, because she was a dwarf and even though she’d never been part of dwarven community, some things are just a part of you.

It was a small home, but large enough for a woman who lived alone and who rarely had company these days. Just before the thin stone path leading from the street to her door was a mailbox, which looked like an ordinary mailbox, except that it had the words “I’m not interested” carved in the side. Donovan Allman was inspecting it when Hega spotted him through the window one morning. Continue reading “Hamartia, Epilogue” →

Recursion, Part Six

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A number of unfortunate situations can be attributed to a failure in communication. For example, linguistic barriers between Dol elves and their dwarven neighbors created confusion that led to the Orichalcum Wars which lasted for many centuries. Personal barriers can also result in poor communication, such as when a very literal person asks an irate person for directions, and spends six days sailing up the Yores River and rediscovering the ancient art of necromancy. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Six” →

Recursion, Part Five

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The way many told it, the legend of the Suntouched was a succession of successes. Climbing Mount Paylor, mastering one weapon after the next, discovering mythic treasures, defeating this monster or winning that battle. Of course, like most legends, it was largely a lie of omission. The Suntouched had failed many times. Mostly in the early days, but some were more recent, like his defeat at the hands of Ulthanadon, The Mad Dragon, or his role in the creation of The Below. And, most prevalent in his mind these days, the failure at Tinderleaf. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Five” →

Recursion, Part Four

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When Pulldrid the Riser lifted the city of Seamoore into the sky, he made sure to take much of the eastern farmland with it. However as local historian, soothsayer, and political commentator Andrea Greycastle noted in her award-losing book, 49 Things You Didn’t Know About the Past, Present, and Future of Skymoore: Number 18 Will Fill Your Soul With Existential Dread, “Pulldrid the Riser was a socially insensitive jerkwad! Did you know that eighty-percent of the farmland he took with him when he selflessly saved Seamoore from destruction was land belonging to Goldsoil Farm, which is owned by bourgeoisie hags and exploits the common man like you and, to a lesser extent, like me? That’s, like, really unfair! Their low wages and long hours have led to the poor and crime-infested state of the Mish Mash (look it up), and they keep the handful of remaining farms from reaching their full potential by signing exclusivity deals with local restaurants. Uncool, Pulldrid! Very uncool!” Continue reading “Recursion, Part Four” →

A Brief Note on the Love Life of the Suntouched, wherein we Briefly Check in on the Lives of Donovan Allman and Karessa Plunderton, and Which Contains a Very Long Title as to Obfuscate the Miniscule Length of the Piece Itself

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“Was the Suntouched ever in love?” Karessa asked one day as Donovan limped onto the store floor from his living quarters. Everyone had noticed the limp, but Donovan didn’t acknowledge it, so neither did they. It was looking better, anyhow. “Any special women in his life?”

“No,” Donovan replied, perhaps too quickly.

“Men?”

“Wha? No! Er, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Of course there isn’t.”

“Right.”

“Shouldn’t even need to say it.”

“I don’t.”

“But you did.”

“Well, anyways, the Suntouched had neither.”

“Really? He galivanted all over the world for what – thirty years? Fifty? – and he never had a girlfriend? A lover? A fling?” Continue reading “A Brief Note on the Love Life of the Suntouched, wherein we Briefly Check in on the Lives of Donovan Allman and Karessa Plunderton, and Which Contains a Very Long Title as to Obfuscate the Miniscule Length of the Piece Itself” →