Alongside the talented artist Annabelle Jacobs, a wonderful collaboration I never thought would be possible has been made real.
As a scribe used to more... open creative time, we'll say, it might take some adjustment to get used to setting due dates and sticking to them. But I must, if I want to be the scribe the Vault needs.
While waiting for more of the works of Ann McCaffrey, the scribe reviewed in my last tome reading (the wings of the messenger raven can be so unpredictable, when flying over the haunts of the Maya Wood), I chose to reread a favorite of mine.
Now Brant saw them frozen, mid-bite and mid-screech, looking like a tableau of devils from below the Disk.
The deal was struck truly in the dim light of that guard house, whereby Colborn cut into Brants and Asger's offered left hands an opaque symbol with his dark metal gauntlet.
That was what they had thought, when Woods had shaken Colborn's hand over the tavern table, lit by familiar torchlight.
There was supposed to have been only normal human bones and all the treasure an abandoned keep could hide in normal human chests.