Tag Archives: Maliken Grimm

The Scar

From the Archives of Arasunia
Recorded by Vestigo in Ephemeris from Beyond the Verge
~3767, The Second Corruption

What has Maliken done?

Less than a fortnight ago, the armies of Man and Beast converged here, led by Jeraziah and Ophelia, respectively, for what many thought would be the final battle. It would determine who truly sits atop the Newerth food chain, they said. Whoever lost the fight would face slavery and exile at the very least—possibly extinction. And so I accompanied Jeraziah’s march, knowing what I recorded may well be the last entry in this ephemeris.

Instead, it would be the first chapter of the bloodiest, cruelest carnage our world has ever seen. Continue reading The Scar

The Rulian Marsh

From the Archives of Arasunia
Recorded by Vestigo in Ephemeris from Beyond the Verge
~3745, Maliken’s Beast Heart

If Death’s Cradle is the armpit of Newerth—and it is, despite what the damned botanists in Adkarna say—then the Rulian Marsh is the ass crack of our glorious land. One may wonder how an armpit and an ass crack can share a long, ragged border, but those people have never seen the It is a foul, damp, dangerous place without a single welcoming feature, unless you enjoy blistering sores and chafing that quickly escalates into bleeding. I do not, just as I do not appreciate being dispatched to this sweltering sinkhole by the counselors of the Capitol who would never deign to dip their robes in these fetid waters, which have ruined my one good cloak. Continue reading The Rulian Marsh

Grimm’s Crossing

From the Archives of Arasunia
Recorded by Vestigo in Ephemeris from Beyond the Verge
~3714, During the Uniting of the Clans

Blood is frozen in the wide bootprints of this hard, frozen soil, and I am left to wonder at the size of a man who would be heavy enough to leave a track in the permafrost as he advanced toward the brutal enemies waiting beyond the ridge.

He must have been armored, for his enemies were infamous for their savage weaponry of clubs, maces, axes, and broadswords. I follow the bootprints along the trail, between sentinel pines sagging beneath the weight of perpetual snow, and try to imagine his thoughts.

Was he nervous? The chanting and war drums of the enemy would have been audible, thunderous enough to be felt in the chest. Continue reading Grimm’s Crossing