OGBOGU DE HAIROUN
The stench of burning flesh made Ogbogu de Hairoun’s eyes water – salty, stinging tears of loss and terror. It took every last shred of willpower to not make a sound, to lie still amongst the carnage, to not jump up and reveal himself only to fall in a flurry of arrows and iron. To
LADY BLUDWERTH
In the ten winters since she’d come to this unbearably hot island, Lady Bludwerth found herself longing for the travails of her homeland more and more often. The fact that “winters” was a definition of time that had little meaning here was only a small part of the reason. That there was a virtue in
MATEO DE ORIKENO
Mateo de Orikeno’s tall, slender body hovers several hands above the smoothly-packed dirt floor, hazel eyes focused on the pulsing ball of light in his right hand as he tells the tale. “The chief of the land of the dead thought it over for a long time,” he says. The ball of light, an effervescent