Though the battles had stretched across three years, a relative peace had held for quite some time for the isle inhabitants. There were less and less aggressors on the island, and those that remained took shelter in what the inhabitants termed, the Conclave. As seasons passed, the islanders shifted their focus to more peaceful efforts through building, learning, and celebrating the life that they shared together. While the calm seas and gentle winds seemed to suggest today to be yet another quiet experience on the isle, it wouldn’t remain so for long.  The emergency alert lights abruptly started whirling in their cases, jarringly pulling the islanders from their everyday routines. It had been over a year since anyone had sent forth a summoning through a series of spinning lights in each of the buildings. Concerned islanders made their way to the town hall and began to occupy seats and benches within. As the hall filled and over spilled to beyond the entryway, a single man...

Saoirse woke to the sound of the ocean. The sounds of the waves by her feet were gentle and soothing despite the unsurety of where she was. Her hands pushed against the rough grains of sand beneath her to shift herself upright.  Once her eyes adjusted, she noted that her possessions were gone, and she was clad only in pieces of cloth. Around her, bodies were scattered in various states of waking on the beach. People were prone on the beach, leaning against rocks, or seeking trees for coverage from the sun. Squinting against the sun beams, Saoirse noted stone high walls in the distance. As she had no supplies or resources, the building seemed the best bet for now. Making her way through the swarms of bodies, she attracted the attention of other beach occupants who joined her. As the group approached the structure, crisp posters outlined the outer walls: Saoirse glanced at the person to her right, noticing the furrow between his eyes. Before she could speak, words...

The sun rose over the frozen peaks casting an array of prisms across the land. Yet no one came out to greet Santa and the reindeer as they made their final descent to perch gracefully on the festive runway. Santa pushed himself out of the sleigh – perhaps with a bit more difficulty this year as there were an awful lot of cookies that he couldn’t let go to waste beside the fireplaces. The reindeer appeared grateful as he began to untie their harnesses, and though he too was exhausted, a sense of dread wiggled through his jacket and crept along his limbs. The utter quiet at Santa’s workshop was unnatural – there should be celebrations and joy at this year’s success. Several more moments passed before the reindeer were stowed away in warm surroundings with plentiful food and water for their efforts. Santa left the sleigh and made his way to the workshop itself. The snow crunching beneath his polished boots whispered ill thoughts into his ears and heart. The...

I move as a wraith,Away from the castle keep,Against the weak queen.Her guardian struck,Sword glancing upon armor,Countered in a breath.Before me he fell,Wretched minion of the queen,No hope lay ahead.Below dying sun,Fluttering beneath my hands,Vessel cannot run.His soul becomes mine,One to drink of my chalice,To fight beside me.Continue must I,And pave the path with their blood,Cleansing this island.Before you I rise,Thousands marching by my side,Armed with fierce malice.Upon my head laysA burning wreath of red thorns,My wrath is supreme.Fallen is that queen,The island belongs to me,Darkened heralds cry:I am the Pumpkin King.           The peace that lasted across the island is no more as the Pumpkin King has betrayed the inhabitants of Rust Empires and the Pumpkin Queen. Power and greed has warped the King’s mind, and his thirst for blood is ever expanding. Through his dark arts, the Pumpkin King is raising the fallen into...

A mouthful of sand grinded against his teeth as Maxwell awoke. The last memories were of a bloody battle and dodging bullets cascading from people who were once his neighbors. They had hatcheted down his doors and torn his art from his walls. He had escaped through a window in the back, and as he fled his home, he glimpsed his horses lifeless outside the barn.  He almost made it to the train station when a rock connected to his temple, and his body traveled to the ground. And yet…here he was. Pulling himself upright, he spat out the sand before noticing figures all around him in similar confusion. “Are…are we dead?” A woman to his right shook her head, “Looks like we were all brought here. No one quite remembers how they got here, but we all seem intact.” She gestured to his bag, “You should have a hammer and building plans in there like the rest of us.” Maxwell shook the contents from his bag discovering that this stranger was correct. Before he...

She was a child back when the village was founded. The woods surrounding the village provided refuge from schoolwork, and was plentiful for food and water. She spent much time learning the pathways between the rocks and trees, memorizing the patterns of new growth, and admiring the wildlife. Hours would pass as she perched quietly and listened to every whisper among the leaves. She spoke with the island and it spoke back. As she grew older, she moved to her own hut on the outskirts of the village. Though it was twig, she did not need anything greater for shelter as she knew that she would be protected. More people moved to the island and the village expanded closer to the woods. People sought her counsel and called her the Madame. Using a crystal retrieved from the cave beneath the village, the Madame could commune more intimately with the island. The village prospered under her guidance. Everyone was happy for a time. But happiness does not last. The village began to...

From the records of the Dominion: The rocks dug into his knees, but Emrys gave it no mind. He was entrenched in visions, in those memories that he wanted to keep so close. His youngest, Wynn – she had set her heart to the ways of the forge.  Her daytime hours were spent visiting the metalsmith where she peppered him with questions and watched intently as he worked. Wynn brought delight to the weary with her enthusiasm and was endlessly inquisitive. She had taken to dressing like the metalsmith and asking when she could apprentice with him. She saw her place among them and so it would be. His son, Owain – No metal work interested him. Owain found solace in the art of woodwork and shipbuilding. Standing on the rocks overlooking the harbor each morning to watch the fishermen venture into the seas. He perched protectively over them until the last of the ships departed before he returned to his own work. When the sickness fell upon the island, Emrys...