Awakening, Bound and Hooded
The grinding of bone on bone scrapes against your senses as you awaken, your world...
The grinding of bone on bone scrapes against your senses as you awaken, your world...
Hooded taskmasters stand watch over lines of workers chained together in body and fate....
A four piece am I: First is my bow the tool of my trade, then the string—of gut it is...
Ammunition, Assassin, Ballroom, Bard, Combat, Music, Player, Ranged weapon, Verse
I stride like the tide, my crashing throw wide, from the force of a tsunami this fool...
Like a terrier nipping at the heels of a bull, I lunge in and lunge out, ever moving,...
Fate tickles me as I launch myself forward, knowing I’ll trip and tumble, seemingly...
Like punctuating the last line of a poem, I flourish my [weapon] and poke! Right...
Precision is poetry. My actions ooze rhythm, each step an iamb. I position my...
This slaver had certainly enjoyed the fruits of his iniquitous labor: a gold chain about...
Inside the slaver’s coat, you find a small booklet—bound in soft calfskin—with an...