This is a fantasy series I work on in my spare time (which I don't have as much of as I would like, unfortunately). I appreciate all critical comments - please tell me what you think is bad or what you don't understand.
Ironink is a temporary name - I have this thing about naming works before they're finished. They have to earn their names lol.
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The air outside was chill, and smelled strongly of the coming winter. It made Lykoi Taimon glad to be indoors. The tavern, called the Red
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Of all races ever known or guessed to exist, black elves are decidedly the worst. They feed on terror and blood, as normal mortals survive
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~1500 words. Part 3 of a continuing story.
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Lykoi was not surprised that he couldn’t sleep. The combination of the night’s excitement and an unfamiliar bed couldn’t help but work aga
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Lykoi woke early in the morning to the smell of frying meat, straw from his mattress, and the comfortable scent of his own dried sweat. Th
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Morrigan was bad at sitting still, especially when there wasn’t food or drink to distract her. She and Athyne had stopped along the smooth
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A bio of Morrigan Ironink. It's possible there's a spoiler or two in here, but I tried my best to keep it clean.
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