Tag Archives: mordigen

The five most common insults and slogans of medieval rebels | OUPblog

The five most common insults and slogans of medieval rebels | OUPblog

Is Celtic Birdlip Grave the Final Resting Place of Queen Boudicca? | Ancient Origins

Is Celtic Birdlip Grave the Final Resting Place of Queen Boudicca? | Ancient Origins

Progressions – snippets from ‘The Stray Chronicles’

snippets from Strays

an excerpt from latest revisions – Chapter 17

 

The tension in the room was suffocating. Ambrogue and Kai stood defensively in the corner, on guard. Balahir shrunk away in the doorframe, but couldn’t stop watching. Archabiya had dried her tears in the corner. Everyone was at attention, but couldn’t move.

Gryph made for the door, but Merryck and Balahir stood in the way.

“Wait!” Merryck pleaded. Gryph didn’t want to look at him.

“Please,” Dahgmar bent to pick up the medallion, “This is a horrid misunderst –”

“Stop!” Gryph cut, his grip on everything beginning to slip, “I won’t be a part of this!” He turned back to Avior, “This is what the Order has become? You disgrace it; you disgrace everything we fought for. I won’t help you – and I won’t let you take her.” Angry tears welled in his eyes, and he stormed away.

Archabiya stood, horrified, but Avior stopped her in her tracks.

“Don’t. Let him go – give him time. We’ll straighten this all out in time, just, let him have some time…”

 

 

The Winterman

I am but a gleaming end

An epilogue in ice and frost

to lay in slumber upon branch and bend

I am but a passer by

my time checked by waning day

Limited though I rule this sky

I am but the last farewell

the closing line to the wheele

the clocks turning, I hear my bell

I am but a moment’s thrill

Though my touch can bring such glee

The spring, it comes, to thaw my chill

And though the warmth draws a tear

I pay it no mind

My time will come, again, next year. 

From the Little People’s Point of View

Be careful who you sit on.

They may not like it very much.

They may tell you what’s wrong, 

pain, sorrow and such …

Some may pinch and bite you, 

Twist until you bleed.

Others might tickle, 

see you laugh until you plead.

Some may crawl inside you!

Unknowing to the eye, 

And say strange things, 

to all the passers by …

The submissive little ones

may simply just crush and bend.

And still others yet, meet their sorrowed end.

Amin Rove

Deep in the forest of Ironbirck Grove, 

Lived a small faery named Amin Rove.

She lived off the fruit of the Orange Blossom trees

And she made all her friends of the birds, and the bees

She was innocent and free, and her heart – it was wild

But her touch was gentle and he temper quite mild

She guarded the forests, its lands and its creatures

Tended its growth, and cultured its features

It was a great sorrow, she met an early grave

Though try as they might, none could save

No matter how far her body may be

Her heart lives on in Ironbirck’s trees

So next time you’re walking with Jackson, or Kotch

Remember, Amin Rove is keeping her watch.

New Faces for Old Gods – PaganSquare – PaganSquare – Join the conversation!

New Faces for Old Gods – PaganSquare – PaganSquare – Join the conversation!