Scribe 266
The pitch blackness seemed to blot out every corner of reality. As though to suck said reality into some horribly vile void for which, surely, there was no escape! Or so the Scribe of Nightsong, Oliver, thought, as his eyes…
A Whole Lot of Nothing! 245
By David C. Daoust Still, stagnate, heat blasted air, stifling— dark, with a cacophony of industrial noise that seemed to vibrate the very hull of the repurposed Crucible of Halfhul. ‘Who would want to come down here?’ Colin Vice…
Scribe 263
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you- The funniest page ever made! (yep, this is what I managed to restore from that blue screen of death debacle a few weeks back!) Quality, single page print of this one image… um… $1,000,000.00!…
Comments: