Circus of Death
The battlefield is my circus: my bow bends like a contortionist and launches my arrow...
The battlefield is my circus: my bow bends like a contortionist and launches my arrow...
Like a juggler at the fair, my hands move in complex spirals—too fast to track, too...
I pull back the bowstring like a circus master pulling back the curtain. What flies forth...
As squat, wide, and heavy as mountain stone, one wouldn't expect dwarves to excel in...
In the tattooed image, the pale brown eagle is flying, and the anchor it holds in...
No skin shows from elbow to wrist, just a wild splash of color, an eagle curving his...
The man in the tattoo is haughty, three quarters facing out, with his chin tipped up. His...
The dragon is composed of individually inked scales. It twists around the arm in a...
Roses—dull red ink akin to dried blood—are placed in a patchwork around a leafless...
A tattooed portrait of a man with a high straight collar is positioned on the arm,...