Jadivolett and the Egg Thief_Never too late_Window Mountain_Siren Song
Catalog Guide:
Jadivolett and the Egg Thief
It was two days before the Festival of Winter Winds as Japolett and Tiego broke camp. The annual festival marked the change in seasons from autumn to winter and was held to honor Olentar the Wind God. The first rays from Ottbof the Sun God crested over the horizon, burning away the morning chill as Tiego packed up the last of their belongings. Japolett knelt, the Sun God at her back, and held her holy symbol between her hands. Turning her emerald green eyes to the northwest, she prayed to Olentar. When she was finished, Tiego handed Japolett her pack and they made their way toward the nearby t...
Never too late
Her feet felt at home in the soft mud as she walked along, making little pitter-patter noises in the puddles. The sweet fragrance of rain hit her nostrils as memories of a forgotten childhood slowly engulfed her. The ancestral house was its usual glorious, towering self more welcoming in her eyes than any of her family members! She closed her eyes as the nervousness and alarming frustration that normally accompany second-guessing threatened to cause a headache once more. She knew that the decision to come back and face everyone had not been an impulsive one but an intuitive one. From a very y...
Window Mountain
“It’s the final countdown!” The rock and roll ripped through the shredded speakers with a jagged, painful determination that the boy no longer noticed. It was not unlike Dad’s voice, damaged from years of smoking.He turned the key, and the music died. The only sound left was the soft ticking of the car’s engine as it cooled down, but eventually that stopped, too. The boy, small for eighteen, gripped the steering wheel as he stared into the distance. “Campout. The final campout.”Actually, it would be the only camwww.onedoor.ccpout. A broken promise, a childhood dream, and death had propelled the boy to this ...
Siren Song
It was an ill wind that bought that vessel into port. She berthed in the dead of night, spilling her crew out into fog filled streets to worm their way into the various taverns and houses of ill repute. If the Captain of said ship had hoped to arrive in anonymity, he had failed. The crawling sea mist was thick enough to turn the dock into nothing more than a barren forest of creaking masts rising above a swirling, snow covered field, but the streets still had ears. Word travelled fast and whispers preceded that crew. The folk of the stronghold kept a careful eye out for the new arrivals, their...