Rescued stories of the Blacktooth Grin

Posts by Xandru Revantusk

  1. Chapter Three: Words Above Flame

    For weeks now, the sound of hammer, nail, and iron have rung out ceaselessly from inside the walls of Stonard. Grunts, hammering out dents from their plate, and reforging rings to fit their mail. Grots, brawling and grappling in the mud for the one shovel in camp, their only…

  2. Chapter Two: All Eyes And Ears

    The camp of Stonard, throbs with the beat of war drums. It's walls now sticking out from the muck and grime surrounding it with their new shade, bone-white. Countless skulls, from animals, and humanoid races alike, cover the mossy wooden spikes of Stonard's outer protection…

  3. Chapter One: Dark Tidings

    Deep within the sunken marshes of the Swamp of Sorrows a warhorn blasts, bats and crows fly up and out from the treetops sending muck and feathers down into the dirt below. Again the horn sounds, it's deep echo rumbles through the trees and reeds, causing toads jump from their…

  4. Alan Greenspan

    "Kill me now..." "Dee still water. Look. It settles." "A flame is dead." "Call dee arms. War be on dee foot." "Pain is comin'..." A bloodshot eye swims swiftly through the dense gray smoke of the campfire into the light. "DEATH, IS COMING SOON!"

  5. A Knife In The Neck: Prologue

    "Twelve to the west gate, seven to the south, eight to the north gate, and.." Sergeant Wilkins looks up from his scribbled notes, and glances out the window to his right. His eyes look out over the ledge and into the courtyard below, "Who's left... Ah! And three to the nort--"…

  6. A KNIFE IN THE NECK

    • A dried leather scrap flutters in the damp swamp air. The nail holding the note to the sign post is rusted and bent. It's driver clearly rushed, not wishing to be seen.* BLACKTOOTH GRIN, I don't know you schmucks and I don't want to know you! SO LAY OFF ME! But - I've been…

  7. Provocation To Mutilation.

    It rips-- the pain tearing through meat and bone. The unmistakable thud and force of impact. It hit like a punch to the chest, a clean, dry shot slips through. Passing through the spaces occupied by skins and metals-- spells, prayers, hopes and curses. A horrid sensation…