Winter, had once again come to Albion. Frosty gales wiped across the lazy countryside, coating every proud building with a fine alabaster sheen. Ancient ruins and statues appeared to be made of crystal, and blissful silvers and blues stretched wide across Bowerstone. Above the ruckus and laughter of busy shoppers and exchanged pleasantries, the chimes of the grand clock tower sounded in the city square. Estria had always loved this magical time of year, but it just hadn't felt the same recently. The usual peace and triumphant joy she was normally privy to each December, had been replaced by uncertainty, and silent tears.
Normally, whenever t
Over the past three days, I have made the pilgrimage back to the site where I lost my humanity so many years ago. The place has remained intact for the most part, as though time itself dares not enter these forsaken halls. I am no adventurer, nor do I come here seeking riches or rare beasts to hunt. I have returned to what is now known as Howling Halls, for one reason, and one reason alone:
To face judgement for my sins.
As I write this, which is undoubtedly to be my last message unto an unsuspecting world, I cannot help but wonder: Did things have to be this way? After all, our people were always such a good, steadfast lot. At least, befor
Crossfire: Heroes of Land and Sea Cp.1 by pixichi, literature
Literature
Crossfire: Heroes of Land and Sea Cp.1
Dawn greeted the grizzled town of Bloodstone with an uncanny and pristine beauty. The sun imbued the waters off the treacherous coastline with a golden hue, unbiased in its aspiration to illuminate the world. Even a cruel and sinister section of Albion such as this, was granted a fresh beginning with each new day. However, on that particular day, that chance, took on a far more corporeal form.
A wily hero, dressed in the deepest shades of green sauntered down the forsaken path, which led into the village from a land of perpetual nightmares. Her long auburn hair billowed like flames against the saffron sky, as blue eyes which had witnessed fa
Reaver, had never been the best at planning ahead.
One hundred years ago, he'd betrayed the illustrious hero of Bower Lake, only to find himself coiled into a most embarrassing game of chase with Lord Lucien's Spire Guards, who needed him just as much as they needed her. Fast forward fifty years, when the great queen had succumbed to her own mortality. Reaver had changed so much of Albion during that time period, evolving what he called 'the turgid green of Albion' into a modernized copper world of smog and steel. What had started as little more than yet another passing fancy to wile away the doldrums (which sometimes crept up during the exp
OAKVALE
275 YEARS AGO:
Victor Ashfield brayed against the door to his sibling's cabin, clenching his fists tightly until the knuckles were a distinct shade of white. Henry had always flaunted his success, whilst dismissing his younger brother's more noble profession relentlessly, but it had never stopped the young bounty hunter from continuing his work. And it had never really bothered Victor very much...until now.
But now, Henry was taking his place--his spot as guest of honor at the harvest feast. A spot reserved for the most valuable member of the Oakvale community; the person whom the entire village would fail without. For almost ten y
Connie awoke sometime after dark. As her eyes gradually adjusted to the surrounding blackness, a hot pain resonated within her arm. She looked down, and stark terror gripped her chest when she noticed that the bandage was soaked through. Staring at the angry wound, Connie reached into her satchel and fumbled for a health potion. The young hero guzzled the contents, ignoring the bitter taste.
She toyed with the idea of getting to her feet, but quickly denounced the thought as a rush of dizziness found her. How long had she been unconscious on the floor like that? As both thought and fear danced upon her hazy mind, Connie took a momen
The Reliquary was a foul-smelling tomb. Even without seeing any hollow men, the princess was well aware that this hidden wing of the library was occupied by the dead. Victoria gawked at the countless books scattered about. Even if Reaver had been an avid collector, this seemed closer to hording.
Daisy sniffed the decaying shelves, emitting an uncomfortable growl as she did so. Victoria's amber gaze left the rotting piles of literature, instead becoming distracted by the numerous candles and torches here.
They seemed out of place, to say the least.
"Who could possibly be going around lighting all these candles and torches anyway?
Trayden and I go back a long way; but such tales are for another time. He was always there when I needed a break from the aristocracy, and he understood what I wanted out of life. Very few people have actually gotten that, and even fewer men. I just hope that one day, I'll be appreciated for who I am; rather than who my parents were, or the crown destined to one day sit atop my head.
THREE
Trayden allowed Victoria to lean against him as the two rogues walked the evening streets of Bowerstone. There were very few people out this time of night, save for the occasional town guard adamant on making his rounds. Trayden stopped before the grand
My father works at Lionhead Studios. For those of you who don't know, it's a small gaming company in Surrey, England. He started working there back in 2012. Fable 3 had just been released, and the studio was bustling with excitement over their newest project, called Fable: The Journey. But despite their newfound zest, the company was in dire straights. Peter Molyneux had just left the company. One day just out of the blue, he had stepped down as the CEO of his own business. My father had been hired about a week later, along with three others. With the huge new project coming up, it was the worst possible time for Peter to shirk his respo