THE DEBRIS III: THE MOCKINGBIRD

Robert Burns November 12, 2020

ITS FLESH: A winking lattice of clockwork hexes.

ITS VOICE: Clipped bursts of dead channel hum.

ITS EYES: Fierce and dead as a stuffed hawk’s.

ITS FACE: Changeable.

THE DEBRIS II: THE TWINS & UR

Robert Burns October 20, 2020

A pair of cutthroat crustacean booksellers and a protohuman with a gentle soul.

THE DEBRIS I: JACQUESE & RAHVD

Robert Burns September 28, 2020

A captain cursed to forgotten deceit, and the worst rich guy you’ve ever met.

Search Posts

Archive Block

This block has no content yet. Items you add to the page connected to this block will display here. Learn more

Featured Posts

Featured

July 23, 2025

NEWSLETTER #1: [GLASS//CUTTER] IS DEAD!

July 23, 2025

November 10, 2020

THE SPACE BETWIXT

November 10, 2020

There’s here. That’s familiar. Towns and forests; roads and rivers. Death waits for the careless, but a simple sort of death. Knives. Teeth.

Then there’s the Elsewise. As changeable as the winds. Labyrinthine halls of antediluvian stone. A sea with stars below and eddying currents up above. Dream, Delusion, Delirium, Doom. A cluster of mirror worlds from whose grasp escape may prove impossible.

But also, there is the place where the two come together. Always a space betwixt. Beads of light and gleaming metal. Threads of copper running like golden veins through the fabric of reality. A nearly invisible ring of crystal where two slabs of stone fit too neatly together. Miss it and you might be hours along before you notice the difference. A burnt taste to the air. An unfamiliar color. A second sun dappling through the trees. By then it’s too late.

Be they reliquer, bountyman, outlaw or tramp--those that find themselves often at the corners of civilization learn to keep sharp for signs of Transience. To do otherwise would be suicidal.

November 10, 2020

October 1, 2020

CANOPIC LOOM

October 1, 2020

A funeral engine the size of a pair of cupped palms. Fibrous, iridescent carapace that reheals when split open. A placid face atop.

For the burial of stillborn princes.

Interred in the Loom, they are laid to rest in a stone vault the size of a grown man and brimmed with organic slurry. Over time, the Loom renders the liquified meat. It knits skin, stitches bone for the never-was king. Pristine muscle ripples under dead flesh. Regal hair sprouts roughly from a clammy scalp. Within the span of a single moon, a fully formed corpse lies in the grave, wearing a tranquil death mask and wielding a midnight black repeater & delicate blade of chitinous lustre.

October 1, 2020

September 28, 2020

THE DEBRIS I: JACQUESE & RAHVD

September 28, 2020

A captain cursed to forgotten deceit, and the worst rich guy you’ve ever met.

September 28, 2020

September 24, 2020

RESTLESS NIGHTS

September 24, 2020

Humans, unsubtle as we are, have acquired a number of strange parasites in our time. Worms steal food from your gut. Ghouls steal bodies from the Graveyard. Leechfolk steal blood from their lovers. Botches steal your nightbreath while you sleep.

Short & squat, cloaked in tatters. Bird’s feet. Clay masks and copper rings braided through tangled hair. They live off of the dreams of men.

September 24, 2020