Author: FoxFire

The Nameless Accounts, Book One

The Kingslayer War.

The First Shadow Rising.

The akor’mari.

These words once struck fear across the continent of Talmenor. For the first time, the Nameless breaks his silence: how one akor’mar broke from the cruelty of his kind and came to govern the fates of many…

By A. Broadhead

the Nameless Accounts, scrolls 1 through 30

Originally scribed by Deft, rukh-bound to Magister Kali Hornsmith
Edited by Ezran Baenarn
Library of Castellea in Castellea, Tarith

Here follows the accounts of his memories, from earliest recalling to Cha'chk'rand'dala'he i.e. Swallowing-of-the-Dark in Sailor's Speech.

These scrolls are maintained by the Holy Order of Shen-Bahan, for the purposes of better understanding our enemies.

I was born many, many years ago, in the city of Vuzsdin.

My name is not important. I am not a hero, though some have called me that. I am not a villain, though many have given me that name as well.

I am an akor’mar.

The Surfacers would like to believe my home city, and my race, are no more. Vuzsdin was assaulted ages ago, broken, buried. The akor’mari were hunted, like we had so often hunted others. Broken, buried. The Surfacers believe they have ushered in a new era of peace now that we are no more.

But I know better. We are akor’mari. We always survive.

Perhaps my story will show that, that the old blood has not died out, that the akor’mar race still lives on. Maybe. Maybe not. It does not matter. This is my story.

I was born many, many years ago, in the city of Vuzsdin...

 

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The Will of the Whip

Then there was a soft spitting noise, like a match flaring to light. Evelos glanced between his fingers, and there was Keelath, the wuyon’mar’s angular face twisted in rage, holding his sword in one hand and a ball of furious Light magic in the other.

“Take your claws off my son,” his father growled.

The Will of the Whip

By A. Broadhead

“…this life, witho-o-out you.”

Mirium drew the final note to a careful quaver, then bowed as her small audience erupted into clapping. Face glowing, the wuyon’mar stepped down from the Halfmoon Tavern’s stage and sat down between her two adult children, Medi and Evelos.

“What did you think?” she whispered.

“It was beautiful,” said Evelos. “I think you’re getting your talent back.”

“Oh, you think you could do better?” Medi quipped, nudging Evelos in the ribs.

“Well, I do have a story I could tell,” said Evelos thoughtfully, as the crowd settled again and Lana took to stage to call out for the next participant. “It’s from when I was a child.”

“You were a child once??” Medi goggled.

“Erm, yes,” said Evelos. “It’s about when we first moved to Thalas’talah, away from the Dawnmist manor. It was years before you were born, though.”

Medi leaned back in disappointment. “Really? That sounds bore-ring!”

“I think you’ll find it’s not.” Continue reading “The Will of the Whip”

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Site Maintenance

You may see some things disappear or break over the next few days. This is because we’re in the process of re-hauling the website structure in order to launch the FoxFireFiction and Talmenor brands. No content will be taken down, but some of it might be (intentionally) harder to find. Thank you for your patience!

Fallen Sun

“No!” said Croatius, snarling. So close, so close… “It’s I who am sorry for the rest of you! We saw through that pretty outer layer of life, through the gaudy makeup on your faces and down into your dead, burnt-out eyes. The world is only a machine, Evelos; our sympathies only the hallucinations of mortal minds that cannot comprehend it. Yes, I am weak and foolish; you are right. A bit of flesh clothed around what was once perfect, but at least I see the corruption…!”

Whenever I get around to turning these characters’ stories into a book, I might break these two scenes apart. For now, the first scene ties off the fraught relationship alluded to in “Son of Silvermoon” and “Crestfallen”, while the second helps explain why Croatius made the choice he did, abandoning his lover and son to the Illidari.

It’s a good feeling when I finally come to understand a difficult villain’s true motivations. It’s always those damn idealists, man: when they fall, they fall the hardest.

Author’s Note

“Come to kill me, Evelos?”

A shadow detached itself from the wall, slowly, like water sliding down an oil-treated window. It paused up front of Croatius, reforming itself into an elf, but unlike most elves, its eyes didn’t glow in the dim light. He was like one of the Wretched instead – or like one possessed by the Shadow – dark holes where the eyes should have been.

“Ah, no,” said Croatius slowly. “My mistake. You are that other one, aren’t you?” Continue reading “Fallen Sun”

The Third War

“Dalah’surfal, we—we need to talk.” 

Talthan didn’t look up, still going through his daily mail while he ate from the bowl of porridge she had fixed for him early that morning. He was relaxed, but she was not, her stomach flipping as if it had seen a lynx crouched in the brush. Mirium focused on a new stain on Talthan’s shirt, and tried to find the courage to go on.

“Yes, my dear?” Talthan asked lazily, when she hadn’t elaborated for several more minutes. That spurred her to continue where her whirling thoughts couldn’t.

“The Scourge,” she choked out. “The reports are coming in more frequently now. They could make it here in days—“ Continue reading “The Third War”

Crestfallen

Krest is named after and loosely based on Crestaen, an old roleplayer and PvPer in World of Warcraft. He was my guildmaster for a brief time while Evelos was a blood elf on Horde-side, sometime during the Burning Crusade expansion. His character taking Evelos fishing in the old Forsaken zones is one of my favorite memories, and this helped serve as inspiration for how Evelos behaves in this series.

Author’s Note

Drip.

It was a bead forming on the ceiling. It followed the ridge of stone until it reached the lowest point, then hung there for a moment, glittering.

Drip.

It swelled and rounded, colors swirling within it. He saw a face, then two faces as another bead formed just behind it, running along like it was trying to catch it.

Drip. Drip.

Being behind the other bead meant something. It summoned up feelings of confusion, darkness… an ambush. Continue reading “Crestfallen”

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Conversion: Chapter 5, Part 5

Living Story Excerpts

…the next morning he was on the road again with his ram and the imp and a large supply of beer basted boar ribs…

The delivery was made and the fee for it paid. Still he was a little short, so Seryth agreed to look into the local kobold problem for the dwarves. He did his best to ignore the imp supplementing his fire bolts with some of its own… Continue reading “Conversion: Chapter 5, Part 5”

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