Bene tellemara, chuchota Druzil.
The black of the ocean waves was the color of the sorrow in my breast, a sorrow that was never far away and always visible.
He wore a tiny turquoise stud earring I always associated with Dungeons and Dragons types. Men who own ferrets and think magic tricks are cool.
He sighed and opened the black box and took out his rings and slipped them on. Another box held a set of knives and Klatchian steel, their blades darkened with lamp black. Various cunning and intricat...
The difference between the quest for the Holy Grail and someone saying ‘bring me a cup’ is the flavor text and the number of stops involved.
Mothers are like dungeons. Some really stink and you'll do anything to avoid them. And some are lush sanctuaries filled with gold, jewels, and butterscotch schnapps-spiked Nestle Nesquik.
Then it kissed me—not as a man would kiss a lover, not with tenderness or even passion. This was a kiss that stole the soul of men. Revulsion at this creature’s kiss was instantly replaced by the warm...
Iona stared at me for a long time. “You are going to leave me a widow before I have a chance to become a bride.
My life was going exactly where I wanted it to until the Devil showed up.
I did not choose to be a monster—a shell of a man—half-human, half-fiend. I am a tiefling. I am what I am.
I was once a man, not a great man, not a saintly man, but a good man, and a man nonetheless.
