reannaking

“… of course, we’ll make every attempt to get everyone a part who wants one. Keep in mind, if ya played last year, you should probably wait at least one year before ya audition again. Except Lord Pelgrin, o’ course. And given that our high lord isn’t here to choose a part to audition for…” At this, the small crowd that had gathered in anticipation around the center stage in Asher’s market grinned knowingly. The master of ceremonies, tradition dictates, changes hands every year as well and is drawn by lottery, tickets for which are acquired throughout the year by attending the farmer’s mark

Flaxbod Igerhorn had been working ticketing for the overnight tour ferries from Analerna since he was eleven, originally having made the crossing over the great Celestial Bay while fleeing the latest of Icyl’s long, grueling civil wars. Despite being rather touchy about the focus of that particular bloody conflict, his heritage ran thick in his blood and his heart, and it was enough for complete strangers to notice his stout, sturdy frame, thick lashes and glittering black eyes and dark, rugged complexion to know he’d spent his childhood being tempered by the battering winds of the Sandy Sea. It was simple work, but his tribulatio

It took some time for Shard, Eidolyn and Gryphon to explain everything, and to Eidolyn, speaking aloud what she had to contribute to their report felt newly surreal now that it had come down to relating it to a party new to their predicament. The three of them took turns narrating while Windemir sat stoically as he learned the magnitude of what he was getting himself into, wishing he knew where his men stashed whatever it was they put into their coffee. Outside, the storm that had been building over the city was slowly conquering the clear sea air, filling it with humid shadows that all had a faintly purple tinge, but the four continued on to

The seafront at midmorning was undulating with passengers and cargo, the unfurling and waving of sails and the passing of dock hands and slaves, who comprised much of the manual labor for the Analerna harbor. The harbor stretched on for some distance, occupying most of Analerna’s northernmost spots, so as they walked on, the sound of crying gulls, orders being barked, dark waves playfully lapping at the shadows under the docks or at the sides of the vessels waiting beside the, pulleys whining or boxes and bags slamming against the planks of the harbor was always present to their left. It was invigorating, though Eidolyn didn’t muc

The people of Analena generally like their home. A town like Analerna works its way into you—under your fingernails, in your nostrils, through your hair. The cultural barriers separating the various neighborhoods are more potent than the most ancient geological or political border, and a map of the many factions within the city and their alliances and feuds with each other would look like a hundred-armed god doing a cat’s cradle, and getting it wrong. Imaginations paint, out of any combination of fear, excitement and sensationalism, all shadows in Analerna a bit darker than they tend to be, except for those in eastern Analerna, wh

Chapter Ten: The Other City of Thieves Eidolyn shrunk at every moan and scream. Each seemed to carry with it a personalized, wordless agony of its own, hundreds of voices heralding the horror of hundreds of possible ways to suffer, rushing through the branches and undergrowth in fleeting, disoriented patterns of panic. Some of the voices were distant and sounded as if they reverberated off of cold, dank stone walls. Others urgently yelped in her ear as they passed, sounding fresh and clear as if from a person standing directly next to her. The haunted voices of the Howling Woods seemed to sweep shadows into swirling, restless patterns and mak

Chapter Nine: The Vagabond's Library The shelves making up the legendary Sylvan Tomes stood innocuously over the soft cover of mud. Incredibly, the combined weight of the shelves and their loads of books did not seem to have any effect at all. It was as if they had simply not been informed that their bulk ought to be at the bottom of a mud puddle by now-- either that or they had got the message but were too proud to comply. Creeping closer, Eidolyn began to notice that the shelves weren't of any kind of construction she'd seen before. Shelves made by people are pieces of wood fitted together with nails. Shelves made by people are imperfect, w

Chapter Eight: A Temporary Truce over Neutral Ground, and Fish Sable was Asher's antithesis, far from clinging to a face of wet rock as efficiently as possible to minimize bits of the city from being swept away by wind or water. Rather, it basked, baking in the shelter created by the two peninsulas of Jigsaw’s northern coast. Shallow, bleached bluffs made up this part of the coast, their soft sandy rock wrested into odd formations by erosion, and the village was built comfortably nestled along them, with natural stairs built into the stone offering quick but precarious navigation from one strata of cafes, homes, inns and shops to anothe

Windemir was in a poor mood, and the behavior of the Asher garrison, while not as raucous as his own team, was doing little to console him. Perhaps he’d made a mistake when he’d locked up that girl. Perhaps having her present would have allowed him to actually speak to Shard, and even better yet, spring a trap on him and finally prove conclusively that he existed. But the Golden Goddess had been silent that night, and if Shard had been there at all, he’d kept himself hidden. He knew that Shard, this magic-using unicorn man was a criminal, reputed to enjoy the thrill and challenge of stealing and pickpocketing, as well as uti