Matthew Jones
Stories
7
Chapters
2,283
Words
4.7 K
Comments
0
Reading
23 m
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"You've been doing that alot." Hastra says, breaking the rather long string of silences we've been experiencing. "Are you alright?" My chest falls with a sigh as I ponder the question and snort, "Am I alright? No, I am but I don't think so." Behind me she persists, "What do you mean?" The Mansion is far from the walls that surround it, smack in the middle with all the auxiliary buildings. So it shouldn't be possible to glance a peek at anything beyond the walls from the Mansion, but the burning…-
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It's nice hearing from Kaylin again, quite nice really, I also had no idea my comm ring could do that. Project their image onto a surface, letting me see them like a projector of sorts. Interesting magic. As much as I'm enthused at the thought of hearing from Kaylin, a previous companion, she only calls when there's a problem. As it is I'm glad it wasn't terrible news from the forming frontlines. 'Huh, I wonder how Aren is doing.' Humming at the reminiscent thoughts of bribing the man to let me into…
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The mirror shimmers in the light, the guards heaving its weight into the room, careful not to let it fall. I've invited Juri, the Marshall, because if anyone else deserves to be here to hear Asher's words then it'd be him. And of course, I don't like arguing with him on orders, Asher has a firmer grip on the man and the rest of the city's officials, the Nobles and aristocrats whisper his name in dark corners and dread his appearance. It irks me that even with such fear of the man, I can't seem to channel…
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Everything was moving smoothly so I should have known a horrible mess was about to come up, and I should have looked out for it. The people of Aste are more of a headache than I ever thought they would be. Frankly I had no idea these people could mobilize like this. Not a clue in the world told me that there was something they wouldn't stand for even in a city under guarded rule. But it seems there is. Looking out the window I can't see past the walls of the Mansion from where I stand, but I know beyond…
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The fruits of my labour, my tiresome labour of two days worth of walking about, eyes glowing and hands wisping with mana. Spirit Hunting isn't as fun as it may sound. But it's well worth the reward. I now have over a hundred Spirits in my charge, fueled with mana and tethered to me in some by the use of the spell. The more Spirits I use the spell on the more I grow to understand the tether it forms between us. The tether is the familiarity of my mana. Since my mana is empowering to them, and since it…
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I'm beginning to think the reason Monarchs don't walk and live amongst their people is to protect them for the frightening side of casual power. To keep them from overstepping their bounds or even being tempted to do so. A Monarch coming down to walk the same filth ridden streets a peasant walks, with their own two feet no less, such a thought is frightening for the local rulers, exciting for the people and an unknown experience for the Monarch. The local rulers of such a filthy place will no doubt want…
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"To what do I owe the...unexpected pleasure?" It's a struggle not to groan at their presence accompanying my meal. Before the servants leave they'd set up seats and tea for my visitors and now they watch me pull the meat off the large seasoned bones of some cooked bird. It's delicious, the best I've had since Jungle's insistence on capturing and preparing rabbits, slithering snakes, and larger than normal rats in the Forest. The value of salt and spice is truly immeasurable to the stomach of a hungry,…
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, , and . The three spells I've unlocked since training, the three I've yet to try out in a safe, practise environment. Anselm raised us out of the well, though on the way out, we somehow had to fight even more enemies. It troubles me to think what holes and creeps they came out from. Now we're taking a break, regrouping and strategizing. To that point I stepped into Demme for the first time in over a week of hunting and fighting. I reek, and the men who stopped to greet me know it. But that's to be…
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Long, agile and a sick shade of green, two monstrous lizards skitter across the floor, approaching me at a rapid pace as they zigzag through each other's paths to confuse. With each snap of my finger bolts of blood, green and blue in colour snap out of the globules suspended above my head. The bolts miss their slippery targets and I'm forced to push back. One makes it close enough to lunge and with an angry wave of my hand a bone spears through its thin chest, taking it out of the air. My defense is…
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Jungle's smugness about being right isn't lost on me or Anselm, or Shaco, or the freaking stones that illuminate the tunnels. Anselm pulled us up the well, dropping off at the first of the tunnel entrances leading deep into a labyrinth of dangerous flora and all sorts of natural bioluminescent lights. The stones and rocks aren't the only things that illuminate the tunnels, the flora, bulbs and leaves and even some of the growing moss give off a faint glow. All the colours combine to cast an ethereal shine…
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