WAKE THE DEAD 2, Chapter 1

Hello all! I am excited to remind you that Wake the Dead 2 is available right now for pre-order and will be released on Halloween, this coming Friday,October 31st.

Please stop on over to WattPad to read WAKE THE DEAD, Chapter 1 in its entirety. It's free and you don't need to sign up for anything to read it, but if you do, please feel free to vote for my works.

(If you haven't read the epilogue to Wake the Dead, it can be found right here.)

Have a safe and happy Halloween this year and happy reading!

Visit me on my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE & my SMASHWORDS PAGE!

Best-selling author of Wake the Dead! On Amazon Kindle here!

All Artwork and covers of my works by William J. Kenney & Carlos Cara

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2014 unless otherwise noted.

 

Sneak Peek~SECRETS OF THE EBONITE MINES

This is a sampling of my recently edited (by Stephanie Dagg)  


Secrets of the Ebonite Mines.

Cover Art in Progress

I wanted to share my comings and goings with you good people, the followers of these blogs, (Here and SƘƲԼԼƊƲSƬ ƇƖƦƇԼЄ) and give you all an exclusive sneak-peek at my next full-length novel. I have been getting a good deal of questions as to when this was coming out, so, with any luck, it will be available at the end of the month for the kindle select. I will be doing the initial 90 days through them and, depending upon how sales are, will decide whether or not to bring it to the NOOK and other venues. So, in this book, it picks up where ƇƠƲЄƝƛŊƬ ƠƑ ƬӇЄ ƑƛƇЄŁЄSS ĶƝĮGĦƬS left off and I am introducing a ton of new characters, so hold onto your hats!

There is a lot of ground to cover, several story lines going on at once, the revelation of a budding, mutual attraction that may lead to a romance soon enough, Rose's feud with the Shadowhands, and plenty of other magic and mayhem!

Here is a smattering sample of chapter 2, where I introduce you to  an integral group of Highwaymen tucked away discreetly in the mines and dilapidated village of Hollow Hill. They are the Blackstone Brotherhood. So, without further ado, meet Xorgram Eboneye! (And special thanks to Nick Titano again for his creative help with some of the characters and other things!)

Also, thanks to William Kenney for the cover art and I've provided samplings of his WIP as well.

CHAPTER 2

Xorgram Eboneye stood at the top of the watch tower, using his one good and deeply blue-colored eye to peer out over the horizon and into the morning skyline. He then removed a telescope from his backpack, lifted his eye patch and held the device over his prosthetic, very unique right eye. That prosthetic had many special qualities. The telescope, when combined with it, magnified his vision by tenfold, making things in the distance appear as if they were happening right in front of him.

The prosthetic eye, which he’d had implanted years ago, was made for him specifically by Fuddle Mucklewink using the rare shadowsteel material of the mines found below Hollow Hill. Fuddle was a brilliant gnome inventor and one of his oldest friends and allies. The new eye enabled Xorgram to somehow tap into his optic nerve, allowing him to not only obtain clear vision, but to also see into other planes if he so willed it. This particular gift required great effort and was a feat that he could only perform occasionally, and was something he’d discovered accidentally.

He surveyed the vast and many areas surrounding the dilapidated village he called home for signs of activity. Once a wagon, caravan or group of travelers was spotted, he could send his brethren to relieve them of their goods and coin.

He smiled as he thought of how smoothly their operations were going and how efficient the Blackstone Brotherhood had become here over the last few decades, perfecting their procedures and developing a careful system.  It had taken him years to come up with the proper distance, techniques and tactics with which to apply his thieving carefully enough to not be discovered. He was extremely proud of this particular group of highwaymen. This thought made him hold the smile for several more minutes before returning his attention to the valley to the north.

There was no sign of movement or life that he could see immediately in the vast expanse that was called Heartwood Valley. The valley was their usual stomping ground, sandwiched between the Oakcrest Mountains, the Amrel Forest, Hollow Hill and the eerily foggy Lake of Souls. Its proximity lent itself well to their incursions and provided sufficient cover from which to perform their raids without detection. And the mist from the Lake of Souls was just beginning to pour into the valley.

The fog derived from the warm waters that fell from the Blackstone Mountains, where a waterfall emptied into the Lake of Souls and caused a misty effect each and every morning. That was a particularly good time for the Brotherhood to execute their work—then and in the cover of night, of course. 

“Anything?” called a gruff voice from behind, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to regard one of the coven, which is how he and the entire Blackstone Brotherhood referred to the thirteen leaders he placed in charge to help him run the day-to-day operations.

He looked down on one of his best and most seasoned raid leaders named Amtusk—a grey-skinned half-orc with remnants of auburn hair and a goatee that matched growing sporadically on his face. He spoke through a mouth framed by a pair of large tusks.

“I’m itchin’ for a fight!” 

“I’m bettin’ ye’ll be needed soon,” called back Xorgram as he stepped forward and leaned over the railing of the watchtower deck, staring wide at the ruins of Hollow Hill.  

Xorgram and his confidantes had long ago decided to leave the settlement in shambles so that any passers-by would not think it occupied. It remained in the state in which Ashenclaw herself had left it…charred ruins of a once-teeming village. 

“Why dontcha go fetch me some breakfast, instead o’ cryin’ and complainin’,” Xorgram called down once more to the half-orc, scratching his raven-black beard. 

“Aye,” called the half-orc from below as he brandished an ebon-hued axe and used it to salute Xorgram. “I’m wantin’ only to put this new axe-head to the test, if you want to know the truth!” 

“Yer time be comin’, so be ready when I’m callin’, Amtusk,” Xorgram ordered as he regarded the newly-crafted shadowsteel weapon with a wide smile. He couldn’t help but see how this most recent development by his miners and engineers would give their entire organization a major advantage—mostly in warfare—and they might even make a few coins if they could perfect the metals and sell them to the highest bidders. 

Once Xorgram sent the word out of how their new weapons worked, their reputation would spread across Wothlondia and the Brotherhood might grow into something altogether grand. With the new sections of ebonite they’d recently uncovered in the mines deep beneath their village, the head miner, Skilgo Firehammer, would certainly be busy! Xorgram had set Skilgo, a Slagfell dwarf and expert miner, to the task immediately. Not only had Skilgo been put to work, but all of the rest of the miners had been digging for months now in that section to uncover more of the ebonite veins, and they had recently revealed a mother lode!  

Xorgram also had his cousin and closest friend, Kilkutt Axegrind, the master-smithy, working tirelessly along with his understudies. They worked night and day to reshape the ebonite, reforming it into shadowsteel, which was in turn used to create some masterfully potent weapons and armor. That wasn’t even mentioning what Fuddle could do with the stuff, thought Xorgram gleefully. 

Xorgram surveyed the area carefully once more and considered that with the weather breaking, more and more caravans would be traveling within his boundaries. He whipped his head around and cleared the strings of black hair from his vision and scanned using the telescope. He panned west and then, as his gaze headed back toward the east, he could see what looked like a caravan.
“Well, I’ll be...” Xorgram muttered. 

To the north, as if in answer to his needs, came the mist from the Lake of Souls. It started out slowly each morn, but as the minutes passed, it thickened over the bottom of the valley and covered it for miles. He smirked at his good fortune and removed the telescope from over the ebon orb that sat in place of his right eye. 

 “Amtusk! Forget about me breakfast! We got us a carriage headed down from the northwestern hills!” he called out, retracting his lens and replacing it in his belt. “Get a party together with some crossbows in the hills above and get me some goods!” It was shaping up to be a good year, Xorgram thought.

“Aye!” Amtusk called and ran off to heed his leader’s commands. 

“The princess is complaining again,” called a silken voice from the other side of the watchtower. Xorgram stared down to see Cassia, his mistress and a seasoned raid leader, calling to him from below. Her blonde hair danced freely in the cool breeze.  

He hurriedly climbed down the watchtower and landed in front of her. He looked around to see that no one was nearby, grabbed her by the hair, pulled her low and kissed her hard on the lips. 

“Now, what ye be sayin’?” Xorgram asked replacing her into an upright position. He adjusted his leather pants and then ran his stubby fingers through his own disheveled, black hair in a vain attempt to make himself more presentable to her. 

“The princess,” she began to say with a certain malice in her tone that quickly dissipated, “requires some behavioral adjustments.” She wiped her mouth and spat at the floor in front of him.  

“Send Skuros to pay ‘er a visit,” ordered Xorgram as he smacked her hard on the right buttock. “If the taur don’t be scarin’ her, nothing will.” 

“Very well,” she agreed, looking back at him with a sly grin. “Or maybe I’ll just bleed the wench meself…” 

“Ye’ll be doin’ none o’ that, me pretty,” Xorgram ordered. “Be at me bedside tonight, though and I’ll punish ye fer mouthin’ off to me.”  

The blonde woman merely shrugged at the rugged dwarf, then called back to him. “Or maybe I’ll feed her to Iron Belly,” she teased as she departed with a glint in her light brown eyes and a cruel smile on her face that yet maintained a genuine beauty.  

Xorgram watched the woman go, thinking about the huge tyrantian worm that made its home beneath the ebonite mines with its gaping maw, huge mandibles and as yet unknown length and which they affectionately referred to as Iron Belly. He recollected the first time he had encountered the thing, which was coincidentally the same day he’d lost his right eye.  

He shook that thought from his mind as his vision couldn’t help but follow Cassia as she walked away, watching her hips moving side to side under her tight leather pants and her shapely legs crossing over in front of each other. Her twin rapiers were also hanging low on her belt, one on either side, their weight aiding in pulling down the top seam of her pants to reveal just the hint of lighter skin below her tan line. She glanced back to catch him staring at her and then turned back, no doubt smiling to herself.  

Xorgram quickly turned his considerations back to his daily tasks although his eye found Cassia’s form a few more times as she continued on her path into the mines. 

Once Cassia was out of sight, he headed toward the entrance of the village and saw the last of Amtusk’s raiding party piling out of the gates. He watched as they shut those same gates behind them.  

He breathed a deep sigh and adjusted his eye patch, giving in to the memories of the horrible troll, Bilonus that was responsible for taking his eye as well as his once-stunning features. Xorgram frowned visibly at that thought. But then a smile began to form as he recalled that the troll had been devoured by Iron Belly.  He headed back to the top of the watchtower once more, smiling ear to ear in vengeful satisfaction.

Cover Art Stage 2~Is that a Dire Bear? Yep!

Once again, I hope you enjoyed the excerpt! Keep your Eye on Ashenclaw for more news!

Please join me and the other fantastically talented authors over @ Skulldust Circle where we have formed a Writer's Circle that must be seen--a collection of brilliant, up & coming independently published speculative fiction authors with much to give both now and in the future!

All of my work can be found on AMAZON -- Kindle versions here

See you in Wothlondia! Cheers!

Please visit MY HOME PAGE to enjoy an extended reading experience, see direct links to purchase my full length novel, Covenant of the Faceless Knights, the short stories: Wothlondia Rising, and to see what else Ashenclaw Studios, LLC has in store in the future!

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2012 unless otherwise noted.

TEARS OF BLOOD FREE! Happy Birthday to ME?

Since my birthday is coming up, I have decided to give you a free short story again! What? Shouldn't I be receiving the gift, you say? Well, I kind of look at like this: I give you something for free, and you, in return, read my work and perhaps even post a review. Or, even better, you like it and come back to buy a few more in the series and begin your journey into the magnificent Realm of Ashenclaw. Whaddaya say? 

This is all leading up to my WIP, Secrets of the Ebonite Mines, dropping some time the end of the month, too, if all goes according to plan. I have the masterful William Kenney working on a cover that will knock your socks off and the incomparable Stephanie Dagg trying to make me once more sound as though I know what I am talking about! 

In all seriousness, nothing would make me happier than if you all simply read my work. I would love a review if you happen to read it on Amazon and Goodreads. That would certainly make me happy!

That is why I put pen to paper so to speak--a gift to you.

And just for a teaser, I will post another sample here, along with the cover again!

It will be available to download for the Amazon Kindle from Wednesday (6/6) all the way through until Sunday (6/10)! Enjoy!

“They seem to be… random in their movements. Like they are not organized. They have no leader, I think.”

Suddenly, a scout on horseback appeared in the distance. As he neared, he clumsily dismounted, stumbling to the ground. Scarr recognized the boy as one of Helzak’s children—Halton. Helzak was a fine bowman in Chansuk, and had the eyes of an eagle. Normally Helzak would be either hunting with Scarr or helping as a scout, but this day had him bedridden with sickness. That was why the boy was in his place. The young man approached with a frightened and disturbed look upon his pale, young face. His eyes were wide and he was pointing to the north as he attempted to gather himself.

“Halton, what is it?” asked Scarr as he tried to steady the boy.

“The… Greymoors,” managed the boy, gasping for air, the heat from his breath seen clearly against the cold of the morning air. “A horde…,” he continued, finally slowing his breathing. “A horde of… something… is coming this way!”

Scarr grabbed the boy by his comparably smaller arms and pulled him closer. “A horde heading where?!” demanded the barbarian chieftain.

“They are heading northwest. Most of them, anyway,” cried the young man. Scarr could feel the boy shaking and fidgeting in his grip, truly frightened by whatever it was that he had witnessed.

“How far are they now, boy?” asked Scarr, plans formulating in his mind.

“Many miles still,” Halton answered, motionless in the iron grip of Scarr’s powerful hands. “I was able to spot them a great distance away, but—“

“But, what?” insisted Scarr, pulling the boy even closer. They were almost nose to nose.

Scarr pushed Halton back and released his vise-like grip, admiring the boy’s obvious talent for perception and observance of details. Just like Helzak, thought Scarr. The boy fell backward, but caught his balance and stood again, staring at the commanding barbarian before him who tugged at his braided beard thoughtfully.

“Alert the village,” Scarr ordered, specifically directing this command to Magreth. He nodded and ran off in a dead sprint. Then he turned to Rothnarr and added, “You’d better alert your people, too, if your father doesn’t know already.”

“Aye,” Rothnarr agreed and strode away with purpose.

Within moments, a crowd began to form around their leader, a wall of muscled barbarians who stood intently awaiting the words of their great chieftain.

“Barbarians of Chansuk,” Scarr began, but then hesitated, seeing his daughter amongst the group, her hair now braided and tied back in a pony tail. “We are facing an enemy unknown to us. But, whoever they are, we will send them running back in the direction from whence they came!”

A chorus of cheers went up with that declaration, a deafening roar from the hundreds of barbarians gathered. That roar slowly turned into a chant of “Chan-suk, Chan-suk!”

Join me @ Skulldust Circle where we have formed a new Writer's Circle that must be seen--a collection of brilliant, up & coming independently published fantasy authors with much to give both now and in the future!

All of my work can be found on AMAZON -- Kindle versions here

See you in Wothlondia! Cheers!

Please visit MY HOME PAGE to enjoy an extended reading experience, see direct links to purchase my full length novel, Covenant of the Faceless Knights, the short stories: Wothlondia Rising, and to see what else Ashenclaw Studios, LLC has in store in the future!

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2012 unless otherwise noted.

Sample Sunday Exclusive Excerpts...

Brand new exclusive excerpts from my newly re-released debut novel on Kindle for $4.99!

COVENANT OF THE FACELESS KNIGHTS!

On sale exclusively for the Kindle for only $4.99

Thaurion slowly approached a door. He turned the handle and it opened without a noise, thankfully. In he stepped and observed many shelving units holding various books and scrolls. The shelves were many and set up to give the room a maze-like quality. He walked down one aisle and pulled a book from the shelf.

He peered through the gap made by the vacant book and saw a blue eye glinting back in the torch light. Thaurion gasped and let out a loud and involuntary yelp, quickly turned to run and inadvertently smashed headlong into one of the shelving units, smacking his forehead hard against its solid framework. He fell to the ground as his world was suddenly spinning. His vision blurred as he tried to rise.

Again he turned to run, disoriented from the massive blow he inflicted upon himself and saw the huge bulk of something moving toward him, hands outstretched and reaching for him!

He panicked and again, Thaurion found himself running into another unyielding obstacle. Looking back to see if the creature was following, he ran headlong into the thick door frame this time and the darkness claimed his consciousness.

Garius began an incantation himself, invoking a blessing to The Champion, the god of war, as the more primal and savage orc began to shuffle toward him. In answer to his prayers, he became instantly infused with divine strength. His adrenaline spiked and his muscles expanded slightly, his armor adjusting with the transformation. He was clearly larger now and even more powerful than before within his plated armor. He removed The Repentant from his back, infusing it with holy energy as the runes burst with radiant light and the hammer’s head shone brightly. He met the first blow head on from the bone-hewn staff, erupting in a loud and thunderous impact that rung out within the spacious cavern as the two engaged in a divinely driven death duel.

  

Orngoth used his club and his fist, smashing bone and flesh and simply extinguishing the life from the goblinoids barring his way with his forceful swings. He hit them with such tremendous force that most of them died instantly.

His prey was close now and he recognized a grin begin to creep across the commander’s face. Only one orc stood between Orngoth and Grubb now as he gripped his club with both hands. He then brought the full weight of the massive club down upon the creature, shattering many bones and receiving a parting slice across his left thigh as he did.

Oblivious to the pain, he kept moving.

In a show of either great bravery or great stupidity, the orc managed to stand again. Orngoth battered it absently over and over again until it stopped twitching. He roared and stood on top of the dead orc’s helmet and then snarled at the commander.

A dented and misshapen shield appeared in the commander’s left arm and in his right hand, he held up the gem that Orngoth held so dear in a teasing manner, wagging a finger at him.

“Not a step closer beast or I will destroy the gem,” Grubb warned.

I hope you enjoyed the new excerpts.

Join me over at Skulldust Circle where we have formed a new Writer's Circle that must be seen--a collection of brilliant, up & coming independently published fantasy authors with much to give both now and in the future! It'd be foolish not to at least check it out...

All of my work can be found on AMAZON -- Kindle versions here!

See you in Wothlondia! Cheers!

Please visit MY HOME PAGE to enjoy an extended reading experience, see direct links to purchase my full length novel, Covenant of the Faceless Knights, the short stories: Wothlondia Rising, and to see what else Ashenclaw Studios, LLC has in store in the future!

Cover art provided by William Kenney!

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2012 unless otherwise noted.

Prelude & Prologue to Covenant of the Faceless Knights

Since I have released Distant Familiarity this month, (and in two weeks, will be releasing A Rose in Bloom, Book 2 of Wothlondia Rising) I have decided to post the entire Prologue to Covenant of the Faceless Knights here for folks that are interested. Distant Familiarity covers the events that happen just prior to the Prologue of CotFK, which sets the stage for the first novel and everything that follows. I have also included the Prelude which briefly describes the setting of the entire Realm of Ashenclaw for you!

So, I hope that after reading this, it will entice you to spend the 99 cents to see what happened to these aged heroes to put them on this path! Enjoy and have a great Sample Sunday and rest of the week!

                                                          

                                                          

 PRELUDE

            Many years ago, on the world known as Krotto, there was inter-racial peace among its many inhabitants. Wothlondia was the only continent on Krotto thought to have intelligent life and was home to all manner of beast and humanoid. This included four known species of dragon, which scholars referred to as storm, venomous, frigid and scorching drakes, respectively. These magnificent creatures kept to themselves for the most part and were rarely seen.

For many decades there was peace on Wothlondia, until a large contingent of scorching drakes emerged to lay waste to its inhabitants. The swarm was led by the largest fire-breathing dragon ever recorded in history.

This particular drake was given the name Ashenclaw, five times the size of any other dragon, and ten times as deadly. The dragons began burning and engulfing the nation in flames until it was all but incinerated. Ashenclaw was eventually discovered to be the queen of the scorching drakes just before she and her kin reduced the civilized world to smoldering embers.

Then suddenly, without warning, the dragons disappeared….

Once the attacks ceased, the survivors began to rebuild. There was a new age set forth upon Wothlondia, led by the humans, elves and dwarves, who are now referred to as the Races of Order. They put aside their past differences and began rebuilding their lands together, rekindling a once peaceful existence. They spent the following years working on re-opening the once-familiar trade routes and encouraging lines of communication, hoping beyond hope that the dragons would never return.

There have been sixty-six years of peace since the last dragon was sighted and the leaders of the new era decided to name the calendar year after this epoch, Post Ashenclaw.

A few major cities have returned to their former glory, while many others remain in various states of transition; many more still lay in ruin.

 Hope springs eternal and the outlook of the lands had never looked better, that is, until the orcs and goblins uncharacteristically and aggressively emerged to threaten that very hope.

This is where our story begins, in the year 66 PA….   

PROLOGUE

                                                                                                 

 

            The heavy oak door to the council chamber creaked open, swinging wide as three battered and bruised forms entered the room. They each sat heavily in one of the many plush chairs surrounding a conference table at the center of the room.

"Me thinks that could have gone better," Rolin Hardbeard sighed, wiping a contrasting bit of dried blood from his full and white beard. Even for a dwarf who was obviously past his prime adventuring years, Rolin was a ruggedly built warrior, but this hour had him looking haggard and tired. His age was evident, as was his broken spirit.

"You have a talent for stating the obvious my dwarven friend," slurred a beautiful half-elven woman with hair the color of polished silver through what was quite possibly a broken jaw. Rolin managed a brief laugh as he removed his heavy, steel helmet and ran his fingers through his blood specked and thinning hair. His hard, gray eyes lightened somewhat to regard his emotionally distraught friend.

"Me dear Nimaira Silvershade, after all the years we spent takin’ down giants and ogres, countless trolls and undead, and ye are only now realizin’ I be a dwarf of many talents?" Rolin asked sardonically.

Nimaira began to laugh, but the pain in her jaw immediately distorted that laugh, twisting it instead into a grimace as tears slowly welled in her sapphire eyes. Rolin's light hearted visage turned down sympathetically at his friend’s obvious pain.

The human priest, Tiyarnon, directed a weak smile at his two closest friend’s familiar banter as he tugged thoughtfully at his ever-graying beard. It was comforting for him to have his friends nearby at a time like this, having dealt with the pain and guilt for so many years himself. It also brought a bittersweet twinge of nostalgia.

How long had it been since the three of them had time to spend together outside of official duties? Tiyarnon thought. By The Shimmering One, it had been too long!  If they survive this nightmare he silently pledged to ensure that they would make more time for camaraderie and reminiscing in the days to come. Tiyarnon's musings were interrupted by the arrival of a servant, standing within the shadows of the doorway.

"My Lords, My Lady,” he began with a reverent bow and then continued. “We did not know you had returned; forgive us for our incompetence," spoke the servant humbly, keeping his eyes down and bowing repeatedly from beneath a hooded, brown robe.

Rolin Hardbeard, never comfortable with being doted on, waved the groveling attendant's concerns away and directed a comment toward him. “Stand up straight ye durned fool! How many time must we be tellin’ ye that we are folk just as yerself? Just bring Nimaira some medicinal balms, for my beard’s sake!” Rolin barked after a short pause, then continued, “Tiyarnon here has exhausted himself and we got nothin much left.” The servant retreated backwards through the door, still insisting on bowing the entire time. "And bring me some durned ale while yer at it!" The dwarf shouted after him as the man disappeared into the hallway and out of sight.

"Now what do we do?" Nimaira said, addressing the topic at hand. Rolin simply shrugged, resigned to the fact that they had given a superb effort in their task.

"Get some rest, and try again on the morrow. What else can we be doin?" Rolin responded confidently, his pride obviously still at the forefront of his façade. The dwarf, despite his age and markedly weakened frame, was not one to give up. Stubbornness was evident in all dwarves and this one doubly so, thought Nimaira as she shook her head in clear respect for the brave warrior. She had witnessed that bravery firsthand hundreds of times throughout their careers.

"I'm afraid it won't matter,” Nimaira admitted as she shook her head gingerly. “You were there Rolin! You know as well as I do that we do not have the resources or the raw ability to succeed," Nimaira continued and winced at both that realization and her smarting jaw.

 The thought of failure sat heavily in the dwarf's heart. Never being comfortable with losing a battle or even an argument and always willing to fight to the very end for his beliefs, Rolin started to protest. All of his objections died before passing his lips as he recalled the scene in his head and recognized that any further attempts would ultimately end in failure. Rolin knew Nimaira was right. Neither of them knew the answer, and both of them looked just then to Tiyarnon.

Tiyarnon was wise and calculating beyond his years despite his shorter lifespan compared to the others in the room. While not nearly as old as the dwarf or the half-elf in years, they always thought of Tiyarnon as their patriarch, as did many others in Oakhaven.  He had an intuitive way of looking at a situation from multiple points of view, and making the proper decision based on what was best for everyone, even in times of personal grief. Because of that, his two closest friends were looking to him for a solution now, during what certainly was their darkest hour.

Tiyarnon sighed as he ran his hands across the gray stubble atop his head, the remains of a thick head of hair, further reminding him of his age. As he spun his chair away from them for a moment, he caught his reflection in the glass of the conference room window and saw the leathery skin and prominent gray beard encompassing his face. After a moment of silence, he sighed deeply and turned back to face his friends. 

Looking his companions in the eyes Tiyarnon said in a steady and serious tone, “We must appeal for help to the Inquisition,” he began.  “And not only the Inquisition, but the chapter of holy warriors that exists within the walls of Safehold.”

The half-elf woman’s eyes widened as a look of realization crept across her face, and then asked “Does that mean…?“

“Yes,” Tiyarnon said, picking up where the half-elf left off. “We must call upon The Order of The Faceless Knights."

 See you in Wothlondia! Cheers!

Please visit MY HOME PAGE to enjoy an extended reading experience, see direct links to purchase my full length novel, Covenant of the Faceless Knights, the short stories: Wothlondia Rising, and to see what else Ashenclaw Studios, LLC has in store in the future!

Cover art on Distant Familiarity provided by William Kenney!

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2012 unless otherwise noted.

Orngoth excerpt! Part of Chapter 14

I have been getting quite a few of the people clamoring for Orngoth excerpts...so, once more on twitter's #SampleSunday, I give you a portion of Chapter 14 of Covenant of the Faceless Knights! Enjoy you soon-to-be-favorite Half-ogre Barbarian!

Orngoth Artwork by the incomparable William J. Kenney!

There were four undead mockeries of once-humanoid creatures with rotting, discolored flesh hanging from their semi-exposed skeletons. It was the foulest sight Forgulnak had ever witnessed. The creatures fed on the now lifeless husk of their fellow goblinoid.

“Ghouls!” Forgulnak uttered loudly. The red of their eyes reflected in the torchlight as they were drawn toward the scent of fresh blood, turning to regard them. He could see their gray rotting flesh as well as their clawed hands now tearing goblin flesh from the bone and devouring it.

The goblinoids collectively stood appalled by the scene, nauseated and frozen, trying to move. They could not. It was too late. The four undead creatures advanced with speed unparalleled on their newest prey that had foolishly entered their lair. The ghouls leapt at them, knocking them to the blood-stained, slick ground. The goblinoids remained paralyzed in shock, helpless and nauseated by the sight and smell of the devastation.

Forgulnak finally realized the true horror of their situation. He tried to make his legs move, but was unable. Whether it was fear or something else that paralyzed him, he could not tell, as he felt the flesh being torn from his bones.

The undead overran them and began to feast, completely consumed by their hunger…until one of them was suddenly crushed by the bulk of a gargantuan club.

Orngoth heard the shuffling and smelled a foul odor emitting from the alcove. He heard a goblin scream harshly as some terrible fate must have befallen it, but he could not see as it was beyond his line of sight. The other goblinoids made their way into the opening and disappeared around the corner, too.

Several more screams followed. Something bad was happening, but he did not know what. He did know one thing, and that was that he had to get free of his manacles.

He strained once more against the chains that bound his arms and hands. Again a few of the metal links weakened and began to buckle further. Another tug from his mighty arms bent the links once more. His muscles continued expanding and contracting in succession against the metal, his veins becoming more pronounced beneath the flesh of his arms. The metal groaned with protest under his might as the links twisted and reshaped themselves to conform to the half-ogre’s will, eventually giving in to his remarkable strength with several loud pops. He was suddenly free of his bonds and retrieved his massive club.

It took Orngoth quite some time to squeeze his large frame through the alcove, but he managed, leaving the top layers of his flesh behind on the stone. The screams had died down, but the sickening odor remained. He saw them as he entered in the flickering torchlight.

Ghouls!

The undead creatures were so focused on their newest feast that Orngoth’s entrance had gone completely unnoticed.

He fought back the disgusting aroma and did not succumb to its accompanying nausea as he smashed the first undead creature into mush with a mighty downward swing of his club. The three remaining anathemas moved quickly toward him. Orngoth’s fierce blue eyes had already run red with rage, revolted and angered by the sight of this purest of evils. Orngoth allowed the bloodlust to overtake him, not even trying to resist.

His huge club came up over his head and he timed the next blow perfectly, almost knocking the ram-horned helm from atop his own head as he swung his club with ferocity borne of rage unbound and connected. The blow was so powerful that he simply crushed the ghoul beneath the impact, spraying bone and gore everywhere.

As he started to pull his club from the remains, he was struck simultaneously by the two remaining ghouls. Biting and clawing at his already scarred and fairly tough hide, the ghouls pressed their assault. Orngoth howled in pain as the anger surged within him.

Small pieces of his flesh were torn open by the fiends, but Orngoth didn’t even take notice now as his bloodlust peaked, driving him to acts of heroic proportions.

He reached out and pulled the first of the two off by its neck and propelled it through the air to land hard against the stone wall. It hit with a dreadful thud. He watched as it attempted to slowly right itself, swaying considerably as it did.

Orngoth grabbed the second one by its arm, nearly tearing it from its socket in the process, and threw it in the same direction as the first, with similar results. He roared fiercely, consumed by his fury, ignoring sense and sensibilities, wanting only to destroy his foe!

The two undead charged him once more. He slid on the slick surface as he took a step, but regained his footing and dropped into a lower, wider stance. 

They closed the distance as Orngoth gripped the base of his weapon with both hands and swung hard. The timing of his spectacular swing connected with one ghoul solidly, crushing its ribs and liquefying them straight away. Then there was a loud crash that immediately followed the first.  His swing had continued its momentum, crushing the second creature’s skull, hitting it with so much force, that it partially removed the head from the body.

Nothing else moved as Orngoth stood victorious over the immobile creatures, blood-stained and angry. He roared in victory before remaining still for a time, allowing the bloodlust to fade.

Eventually, exhaustion set in. He fell to one knee before squeezing out of the tiny opening once more and slumping to his rear on the hard stone. Breathing more slowly now, he contemplated what to do next, until sleep claimed him.

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