Sylvari Chronicles: Whispered Knowledge Link

Synopsis: The First Book in the series based on the world and characters of the soon to be released NCsoft MMORPG Guild Wars 2...

The body of the sacrificial female was unshackled, but remained as it had the previous evening inside Orr's lair. Except for the mottled bruising along the underside of her body, no color remained in the luminescent covering of her remains. The skin of her face was stretched taunt over the framework of her skull, the flesh beneath withered and dry. The teeth were fully exposed, eyes little more than pale, loose marbles inside each ghastly socket of the once noble face.

Orr noticed the deep red and black laced liniment being mixed by Tetryl, the first of Orr's immortal Mordant Knights, was nearly complete. The black dragon positioned his latest creation, Nightshade, so that he faced away from his master, his back towards the great beast. "You will need a steed noble knight."

A razor sharp talon flashed across the skull of Nightshade. The speed and keenness of the strike caused little more than a twitch along the frame of his latest thrall. Orr chuckled as the top of Nightshade's skull slid back to fall with a meaty 'thunk' on the floor of the chamber beside him.

Orr's latest Mordant Knight remained motionless as the great beast dipped two talons into his opened skull and plucked out a moderate amount of the 'goo' pooled there. Orr turned to deposit the gel into the emolument being tended by Tetryl.

"Get the heart Tetryl." Orr murmured as he clipped a bone fragment from the end of his leathery wing and added it to the mix.

Orr's first Knight dug into the mottled viscera that oozed between his boney fingers inside the opened cavity of the woman's remains. A moment later his hand emerged with the heart clutched within its grasp. Returning to stand before his master, Tetryl placed the heart on top of the magical detritus.

As Orr started to weave together his dark magic, the black behind the beast's eyes began to glow a pale blue. The color bloomed, bright as a summer sky, when the salve coated heart and wing tip were cast through the necrotic device attached to the remains which lay on the alter. A brilliant flash of energy leapt up from the dark metallic rectangle and hung motionless over the glowing runes etched into its frame.

As powerful energy flowed from the runic etchings into the roiling ball of magic growing there, the woman's body began to pull into itself along the four sides of the mechanism. Like flames on wood, the magic consumed the body of the Norn woman until all that remained was a brilliant ball of power above the device, which now occupied the space where the corpse had been.

In a moment, the hovering ball of energy began to lose its original egg-like shape as the dark magic began to take on its final form. The brilliance of the magic began to cool. When the spell was complete, a hideous depiction of the Norn woman flew a few feet above the sacrificial stone.

Instead of arms, the muscular frame pumped leathery wings which sprang from the shoulders. Its legs were lizard-like in appearance, short, powerful and proportional with the rest of the creatures frame. They were tucked in close to its belly with grasping talons attached as feet. A bone-like tail whipped to and fro behind the thing. The stomach was smooth and sectional with nothing to indicate a sex of any kind. The creature's neck was elongated and ended with the distorted facial features of the sacrificed female.

The nose and mouth were non-existent. Slightly shadowed indentations were all that marked their previous locations. Instead, these normal features been replaced by two elongated vertical slits, which opened and closed with the sound of wet meat slapped together. The eyes were empty sockets, the walls of which emitted a hazy blue glow that projected light a few inches past the hollow indentations. The thing flew near Nightshade and landed, moving lightly to wait beside him.

Orr reached down to retrieve Nightshade's skull cap, which he replaced atop the head of the Mordant Knight. The severed skull quickly laced itself back into place. Several mats of Nightshade's hair had trailed inside his skull cavity and were now permanently pinched between the upper and lower portions of his skull, as the bone knit itself together.

"Hear me Nightshade" Orr commanded. "This vehicle is an extension of you, much like an arm or a leg. Together you act as one. When you feed, both are nourished. Remember this!"

Orr returned the rune encrusted focusing device from atop the stone slab to the bone hooks embedded into the side of gore stained alter. Two belts also hung there, both were stained and rank with dried blood and worse. Orr removed one of them and tossed it at the feet of Nightshade. The pouch affixed to the belt strap contained a flat, circular object, about the size of a balled human hand and fashioned from the same dark metallic material as the larger runed device.

"Use this when you have news for me, Knight." the black beast said, as a gagged and terrified human male was shackled to the gory stone before him.

As Nightshade bent to retrieve the belt, Orr grinned, "Tetryl will demonstrate its use." The dragon began to laugh as Tetryl removed his belted device and walked toward the bound and terrified human.

Perfect Together Link

Synopsis: Science Fiction tale about a young man, crippled in an accident, who gets more than he bargained for playing NCsoft's MMORPG Guild Wars...

Ian leaned heavy on the gore covered haft of Razorstone, arms quivering from exertion. Tattered bits of flesh mixed with blood and sweat slid from his face to the stones of the desecrated shrine at his feet. His pulse, pounding in his ears like an ancient drum, rendered Ian deaf to everything but the sound of steel slicing through air, armor and flesh.

Thin, unblinking slits locked onto his foe as the Lich slowly approached the blood slick stones of the dais. Wait...wait...his grip tightening on Razorstone, the battered shield of his father's father lashed and ready on his arm. The Lich, no more than a pace away from Ian, had reached the center of the shrine..."Now!"

With an earth shaking shout, Ian and his party attacked as one! The air crackled with magic, bowstrings sang their deadly song and bloody steel sliced through the protective spells and armor surrounding the weakened Lich. Insane laughter welled up and spilled from the enraged, undead thing which stood before Ian.

The hideous face of the Lich rolled back to gaze toward the roof of the magma filled chamber. Unnaturally long arms stretched up and away from the thing as it commanded the aura of dark power above him into a roiling ball of blue-white energy. The misshapen head of the undead wizard snapped forward. Eyes of flaming coal burned inside oily black sockets which locked onto Ian as the dark magic above the Lich exploded a blinding white and...

A brilliant shaft of light shot into the room as the thick curtains covering the window in Ian's room were flung back. The sunlight scorched the retinas that were hidden inside the folds of puffy flesh protecting his bloodshot eyes. Ian groaned and flung an arm over his face, but the damage was done...he was awake.

"Sleeping 'til the afternoon on a beautiful day like today!?" The comment, draped in a very familiar and distinctive accent, was drilled into Ian's head by the shapely silhouette framed in the rectangle of blinding white light that flooded the room. "You ought to be whipped young man!" Maria stood with her arms bent, hands on her hips, her feet spread apart in the classic offensive attack posture and chastised Ian. The afternoon sun laughing safely from behind Ian's housekeeper.

"Morning Maria" Ian croaked.

"Morning?" Maria said with a sharp, questioning tone. She scurried about the room collecting the empty cans and dishes scattered across the computer desk on her way to the door of Ian's room. "To be sure it's morning somewhere Ian...but it is definitely NOT morning here! I am making some lunch, and I expect you in the kitchen in twenty minutes! I brought Faith, my daughter, with me today...so get dressed and be civil!"

As the door clicked shut behind her, Ian considered rolling over to recapture the sleep that had escaped him. After a moment though, he hoisted himself into his chair and rolled into the adjacent bathroom.

'Maria has a daughter?' he thought, 'The poor thing!' A foamy grin took shape in the mirror as Ian watched himself brush the grime of last nights 'Gaming Marathon' off his teeth.

There's No Place Like Home Link

Synopsis: A Science Fiction tale about a young man who finds himself an unwitting participant in deciding the fate of humanity...

With no more than a passing glance, the stationary figures could have been a couple of silhouettes cut from the same dark paper. Or two tourists, about fifty feet apart, just taking a break from their relaxing stroll. They sat upon the gritty incline of the beach, as if gazing at some distant point near the horizon. Perhaps each studied a vessel of some sort, an unplanned hiatus mid-stride their carefree day. A ship silently sailing past, or one that lay anchored, well beyond the dark liquid lapping at the nearby shore.

A bit more scrutiny provides a greater grasp of detail, and those details would have illustrated several differences between the 'Average Joe' on vacation, and either of these two apparent beach combers.

To begin with, Michael Parkman was no great fan of beach vacations, sunny or otherwise. His posture reflected more a deep exhaustion, than any form of simple relaxation. His casual suit, not the sort of thing you would expect to find at any decent beach, was filthy, frayed and torn. The state of his clothing was not the result of either normal 'Wear-N-Tear' or a 'Grungy' fashion sense. In fact, Mr. Parkman's condition closely resembled the look of a wartime refugee.

He was exhausted and beaten, wearing the clothes and posture of someone who has just managed to cheat death and now possessed nothing more than the clothes on his back. That is the general condition of Mr. Michael Parkman, the man who now sits, mannequin-like, on this particular beach.

Parkman's exposed skin was covered with a dark, oily grit that blended with the stains ground into the remnants of his, once respectable, casual clothing. This was especially true around the lips, which were painfully cracked and dry. Michael's breathing was deep and labored. The current atmosphere being a poor substitute, when compared to the richness to which his lungs were normally accustomed.

His gaze was not focused on anything, real or imaginary. Two grimy hollows, with thin slits of unblinking white, stared at dark soil framed between thighs and his forearms which overlapped one another between battered knees. Exhaustion so deep that, if not for the support provided by the bridged forearms, his head would currently be lolling on his chest.

Michael rolled his head to the right. Two dozen paces to his left, the only other anomaly that occupied the deserted beach had also assumed a similar sitting position. In Michael's opinion, his beach-buddy looked a lot less imposing now. Very much diminished from the towering fifteen foot giant that had lorded over him for what...days?...a week?...he could no longer guess at the time frame involved. His thoughts were now sluggish things that floated in a clingy sea of gauze. 'Of course,' Parkman mused to himself with as much sarcasm as he could muster, 'they would be a few feet taller...if their head was still attached!'