A lone man paces along the quiet, white hallway. Tension eats at his nerves, sweat slicks the palms of his hands. Behind locked doors a woman screams. He jumps, bits his fingernails, continues pacing. She screams again, blood curdling. _It wasn’t supposed to be this way_, thinks the man. The screams won’t stop, and minutes drag by like hours. Footfalls echo down the empty, white hall. The locked doors click and open wide. A new man steps out, all dressed in white. Blood stains his gloved han...

“Are you sure this is the place?” Grady asked. The tavern was suspiciously small, and far on the wrong side of town. “Of course this is the place,” Osferd laughed. “What were you expecting?” The little tavern sat squat between two other establishments, both just as sleazy. Dingy yellow light leaked out from its stained windows, and old tar stains blotted its warped roof. A crude sign hung above the door by rusted chains. _The Happy Tavern_, the sign read in crude brushstrokes, _Where Every H...

Wind whispered through the dark leaves overhead, and branches creaked at its passing. Even as the sound came rustling by the air felt lifeless and dead, and the taste of ash crept deep into his throat. Vahris spat once, the again, and wiped at his tongue with his tunic, but still the taste was strong. The taste of fire was one he knew well enough. He had brought it to all of the Free Cities in turn, from Warsong in the north with its round holdfasts of rough hewn stone, all the way south to ...

Brother Kendle signed, then bent down to close the poor girl’s eyes. “Blood cools,” he said softly, though he didn’t believe it. “Rage stills and hate fades.” He had followed the holy word for decades, but the rage was still there. And the hate. Looking down at that poor girl, hate was all he knew. “Yes, blood cools. Hate fades.” Her dress lay ripped in tatters, a deep gash seeped red and vile at her throat. God, she was only a child, but they raped her first. The bastards. They always raped...

Brother Kendle sighed, then bent down to close the poor girls eyes. “Blood cools,” he said softly, though he didn’t believe it. “Rage stills and hate fades.” He had followed the holy word for decades, but the rage was still there. And the hate. Looking down at that poor girl, hate was all he knew. “Yes, blood cools. Hate fades.” Her dress lay ripped in tatters, a deep gash seeped red and vile at her throat. God, she was only a child, but they raped her first. The bastards. They always raped ...

So im new to this thing, this poetry, But now I think it just might be, The time for me to play with words, While you might think that's quite absurd. But hey, that's life, or is it not, For one to question while another fought Fo valiently, in vain perhaps no matter what the circumstance? But now alas, i do digress; A poem I'm trying, yes that I've stressed, But where to start, now that's the key, I guess we'd better start with me. Im nothing really, a faceless man; A simpleton of the famili...

Everyone has their own misconceptions. It doesn’t matter if you know the truth, sometimes the myth will always get the better of you. Sunlight does not kill vampires. I know this. Still, as Gerard stumbled toward me, I was caught off guard. Dawn’s early glare glinted in my eyes behind him. Smoke sizzled from his pale skin with that familiar crackling sound. No, the sun doesn’t kill them, but I bet it hurts like hell. “Back,” I warned, leveling my shotgun. “Into your hole, Gerard.” He snarled...

Lightning lit the blackness through heavy sheets of rain. The wind that had been howling steadily was now dead, and water poured to earth without angle. The settlement of Drunkardsdale had been reduced to a festering mud hole, though it did smell better with the storm cleansing the air of the stale reek of vomit. The streets, which were normally overrun with intoxicated patrons, were nearly bare, but dingy yellow light leaked through every tavern window. In the distance, the fortress city of ...

I behold the face which set the sail of a thousand ships, wherein lie the eyes that cause the weeping of the angels, for they mourn the birth of earthly beauty far greater than their own. They mourn, and they tremble. "But why, sweet angels? Such jealousy does not befit you! Why are you afraid? Tell me!" And the answer received crushed mountains, they screamed with the force of storms eternal. "The love you find is wicked, sir! hellbound and spawned, tis' no mistake! Though in innocence conce...

In your eyes I see a fire that sets my soul blazing: Before it I am rent to ashes, spread thin so that you may tread softly; the soot that soils your own purity. Though my will be wrought of iron, such flames heat my own wishes until they cease to be mine at all. I am cast into dainty trinkets of your own choosing; shapes of cunning and of child’s play. Why is it, then, when this fire is far from me that I am scalded, burned by memories of a warmth once had? Am I so lost?