Blake Tyronicus

Grover took a swig from an unmarked glass bottle, bounding forward along the dirt trail in the snow. His barrel chest bore an array of skins and cloaks, but it seemed the real warmth came from his dwarven liquor. Blake’s teeth chattered against the cold wind, his scrappy leathers providing Continue Reading

Blake could have sworn that a pint of ale in the Basilisk’s Brewhouse was just a littler larger and a little colder than they poured back in Hrothgar. This tavern was clearly the centre of social life in Estangull, with pretty girls dancing to a flautist’s ditty and burly regulars Continue Reading

Once, the fields of the barrowlands had been bright with wild grasses and flowers. The ponies which ran gaily through the hills were famed for their stamina. The passing of the Lich King’s horde had put an end to all of that. Now Blake and the Defiant Dust saw a Continue Reading

Before the Hallowed Crown, before the Blood Moon, before all those other stories there was a town. Hrothgar still stood at the confluence of the Violia River and Totweld Sea. This has been an important crossroads for trade for as long as there have been people. The Orchives were new, Continue Reading