The New Eden_Journey to Zarvelor_Nefarious Mick_Memories from childhood
Catalog Guide:
The New Eden
Thaddeus wiped his brow before he raised the spyglass to his eye. A tower of twisted metal jutted out of the ocean, rusted and ragged. A small metallic hut laid securely on the top of the tower, reflecting the sun triumphantly. The waves were calm and the wind was gentle, a much needed reprieve from the thrashing Thaddeus and his crew had received during the last week. His ship, The Sporting Merry, held together dutifully, weathering the tempest with an even keel. She seemed to be the only constant in Thaddeus’ life, handed down from his Uncle Joshua. She was one of the last working metal shi...
Journey to Zarvelor
The autumn sun glimmered on the Isar river. The trees had turned red, orange, and other fiery colors. Vani glanced at the red trees that looked like bouquets sprung from the ground. The day was picture-perfect but she didn't have the frame of mind to appreciate anything.She left drained from work and walked to her station as fast as she could. She watched the tall office building of Crystal labs, her dream company. Vani was an electronics engineer with an ambition to learn as fast she could. Knowledge was power. She hated being the young powerless developer. She had to work twice as hard and f...
Nefarious Mick
My grandad always loved telling me pirate stories when I was a boy, not one's like you may have already heard though. Those old stories were all the same; they glamourise piracy, that’s just not how it was. Those are not the kind of stories my grandad told at all. I dare say you won’t envy the pirates in this story, it’s a tale about a man who was not only obsessed with power, but with riches. His obsession lead him down a path that you may not believe, I’m not even sure I ever believed it myself at first, but as the story goes he became immortal. He was known as Nefarious Mick, and for over t...
Memories from childhood
It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. Her grandparents’ rural homestead was still intact. The cluster of three-pole and mud huts had survived the test of time. Kundai’s reminiscing was drawn towards the heart of the smallholding, a circular kitchen with its thatched roof, black with soot where the smoke from the wood fire had swirled upwards and escaped from the open hearth. Opposite stood the square-shaped sleeping quarters with a sitting room, all under a corrugated iron roof held down in places by old tyres and logs. The two small gra...