By David C. Daoust The village around Bladeshire Abbey was a small one. At its center was the Village Green, a common area the families shared. The Green, along with the Parish Church were places the villagers would congregate. Each had their own wattle and daub cottage, where their entire family would eat and sleep….
By David C. Daoust The small group of riders approached at a saunter. At the lead was the baron himself, to his right, the Pound Keep (Chantilles’ father). At their back, a group of men-at-arms, each armed and armored as they trailed behind their Lord. Abe appeared from the tall grass, a mass of dark…
By David C. Daoust The raucous barking continued as the mastiff charged out of Redcap Creep. A bark that seemed to echo into the distance as the frantic dog, freed from its impending doom, got as far from the sucking wetlands as fast as it possibly could. The young girl, Chantilles, could hear the old…
by David C. Daoust Homespun, simple clothing, mired in dirt, right hand clutched a rather swordlike stick as the left held one of the leather straps that fastened a wooden shield to his arm. Both of which were exactly what they appeared to be– driftwood, scrap. The dark-haired boy, crouched in the underbrush under a…