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Subject: Collection of Epic Lore 2.0 rss

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Spencer S
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As a demonstration of my enthusiasm for Epic's expanding lore, I felt it was necessary to compile all of the current lore together that I could find. White Wizard Games and more specifically their loremaster, Ian Taylor, released an amazing story in the Epic lore titled, "CRY HAVOC". I was blown away after reading this particular entry because of the griping events that unfolded, writing, and connectivity the artwork has to the lore. Needless to say I really want more of this story to unfold.
I love to read, write, and encourage others to read more often. So my hope is that everyone can use this post to catch up on the lore of Epic. If you are caught up, then read through the abridgment to refresh your enthusiasm or help me catch missing lore to add on. Finally, show White Wizard Games that we want more.



The first war of the gods tore the world apart. Each god continually remaking reality was more than the universe could withstand… The great nothingness returned, leaving the gods to bicker in the void.

Eventually, a compromise was reached. The gods joined forces to create the universe anew, but this time there were rules that even they must obey. No longer could gods battle directly, tugging against one another on the fabric of reality. Now their wars are fought in the mortal world with mighty champions and devastating events.


The girl was most definitely lost. The city gate of Covenant was at least a mile away, but in what direction? She had no idea. The occasional glint of the sun that peeked between the high branches of the forest gave her few clues, and at six years old, she could hardly be expected to figure her position by it.
Branches cracked underfoot, occasionally poking her feet through the thin canvas of her boots. Despair started to overcome her, but she refused to cry. She was determined. She wanted to see where they went every day.
A far-away bellow startled her. She held her breath for whatever reason, but whichever dinosaur made the noise probably wouldn’t even consider her a snack.
She kept telling herself that.
It wasn’t helping.
She took a few more steps, but her quest was feeling more and more like it was a bad idea. Her tentative plan to return to Covenant became the best idea she could have.
She turned. She saw the wolf. She refused to scream.
“Hello,” she said. She wasn’t sure why. There were so many wonderful things in this world. Perhaps the Gods made a wolf that talked, and did not find children delicious.
This was not such a wolf. It just stared at her. It bared its fangs. More wolves started to appear behind this one. None of them were magical talking wolves either.
She closed her eyes. She would not scream, or cry. They were hungry, and she was made of meat. She hoped it would not hurt too much.
The next few seconds were a myriad of yelps and howls, but nothing was touching her. She opened her eyes, and saw the man. He was dressed in the armor of the City Watch, and the wolf pack was suddenly very interested in him.
His sword was a blur, and the sunlight reflected off his armor in such a way as to blind her. By the time she could move to a spot in the shade, the wolf pack had run off. Three dead wolves lay at the feet of the man.
“You ok?”
“Are you a god?” she asked. Like most children, what she had to say was the most important thing ever.
“Gods play games. I’m not a god.” He smiled at her. His face looked like it wasn’t made for smiling. “You should not have left the city. It took a while to find you. You move quickly.”
She smiled. “My name is Keira. I’m sorry! I wanted to see where the Wolf Callers go.”
“You found your wolves I guess,” he said. “But the Wolf Callers are far from here. Come with me back to the city.” He held a gauntleted hand, still stained with wolf blood. She didn’t take it.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Patrolman Markus,” he replied. “I need to get back to the wall. I should not be gone this long.”
Keira smiled again. She was sad that some of the wolves died, but she had a new friend, and that made it a grand day.


“Lieutenant Markus! You have…” The guard had no reason to say anything past that, as Keira strode into the room like she owned it. Markus sat behind his desk, as was usual at this time of the day. Reports had to be written, and while he disliked being interrupted, he would make the allowance for Keira.
“You cut your hair,” he noted. “Trying to be more like me?” He ran a hand over his head. His hair was very military, and very proper.
Keira gave the half-smile and the eyeroll that most teenagers had mastered. “The long hair bothered me. I like it like this.”
“Try a barber next time. It looks like you used a sharp rock.”
“I like sharp rocks.”
Markus straightened in his chair. Ever since he first met Keira in the forest, she had been devoted to his opinion. She looked up to him, like a big brother, but that did not mean she wouldn’t argue, or push her luck. Lieutenant Markus demanded respect from everybody, except Keira. Hers would have to be earned, and earning the respect of Keira was a constant battle. She had no family, and thus nobody with which to pick safe fights.
“What can I do for you, Keira?”
“Did you speak to Gek?”
“I did,” nodded Markus. “He would not budge. Women are gatherers, according to him.”
She kicked a wooden stool. “That’s so unfair!” she said. “If he would just give me a chance!”
Gek was the Gatewatch Overseer. He was the one man in charge of every single group that went through the gates into the forest. Everybody, from the Knights of the Dawn, to the Wolf Callers, had to get his permission to train as a Forestwalker.
In Keira’s words, he was “a thousand years old”, and “smelled of gravy and sorrow”.
Markus waved a finger at her. “I will talk to Gek again, but I make no promises.”


Keira spun excitedly, showing every side of her new uniform. It was really nothing more than a few scraps of leather armor, but every Wolf Caller wore the same.
“The first female Wolf Caller,” said Markus, offering a rare smile. “I’m…very proud.”
Keira was unable to contain the hug that followed. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
Markus tried without success to disengage her. The men were watching! Eventually he gave in until she mercifully let him go.
“No need to thank me. You did all of this yourself. You earned it.”
Keira’s smile changed to her well-traveled knowing smirk. “Gek changed his mind pretty suddenly. Right after he accidentally broke his nose while bathing.”
Markus sighed. He did not feel all that comfortable with her casually reminding him of the one time he broke the King’s law. He would never admit it to her, of course, and his reputation was such that nobody would have believed Gek. Nevertheless, he changed the subject.
“When does your training start?”
“Today!” she said. “They teach us survival techniques, and after that we learn the bonding magic, and then we ride!”
“You’ll have to learn to ride properly,” said the Watch Lieutenant. “It’s different past the wall. Did they give you a horse yet?”
“They did!” said Keira. “A beautiful, brown horse. Guess what I named it?”
Markus shook his head. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Arik.” Keira beamed as she told him, and for years the nearby soldiers would tell the story of the time that Captain Markus laughed out loud.


“…the King hereby shall call, from now and forevermore, Arik Markus, Captain of the Watch!”
The proclamation rang out across the packed courtyard. Chamberlain Kark had such a voice that could dominate and command an entire quarter of the shining city.
The crowd of soldiers let out a hearty cheer, and then another. Keira smiled from her place atop a barrel in an alley that fed the city square. Did soldiers practice everything? Even shouting? She shook her head, only vaguely aware of the young girl that had hopped onto the barrel next to hers.
“It’s just like the king to promote that monster!’ said the newcomer.
Keira looked at her. She had never seen this girl before. “What do you mean?”
The girl looked at her. “You’re not familiar with Markus? What he does?”
“Tell me.”
The girl was shorter than Keira, with short, dark hair and a face that looked like an angry apple. She looked to be about Keira’s age.
The girl lowered her voice and turned from the square. “I am Paros”, she said.
“Nura,” replied Keira. She wasn’t sure that she trusted Paros, and her real name would be kept secret for now.
“Have you seen the soldiers at night, Nura? They arrest us for little reason. The sick and infirm are either banished beyond the walls, or placed in what Kark calls ‘protective housing’. Little more than prison for the poor.”
“That sounds…terrible…”
Paros looked around, but nobody was near. She still spoke in a whisper. “If you’re interested in justice, come to the temple catacombs when the Dragon Bell strikes the third night hour. There is an entrance in the burned-out stables.”
Keira tried to think of something to say, but she was aware that Paros had vanished. She looked towards Markus, who looked to be in his own private hell of small talk and hand shaking. She was about to partially repay her debt to him.




Markus, Watch Captain. Covenant is his city, and Captain Markus is obsessed with its order. The increased threat from the dinosaurs of Dargothian Valley, combined with the insurgency led by the rebel Paros, has hardened his resolve. He is the Defender of Covenant. He will wipe out all danger to his city, inside and out. Peace comes at the end of his sword. - Ian, the White Wizard

Deep within the walled city of Covenant, Captain Markus watched as robed figures with sticks chased after street urchins.
He yawned. “Waste of time,” he thought.
This happened every week. Priests of Kalnor held their weekly Underfeast, where the children of the street, the lowest of the low, were given a free meal. Of course, being the church, this also included a mandatory morals lecture.
Most of the children would attend willingly, opting to sit through a boring sermon for a belly full of terrible meat. The reluctant would also attend, being fed and talked down to whether they liked it or not. They’d pretend to listen to Father Artos so they could eat and get out of there. The stubborn would be chased in by priests wielding sticks.
Come noontime, they’d all be cast out of the church, and most of them would begin stealing again. Markus turned from his balcony. At least Artos, with all his misguided attention, was able to provide a worthwhile distraction, and today might actually yield some substantial fruit.
Markus summoned his guards. “It’s time,” he said.

Artos smiled as the last of the children filed into the Lower Nave of the Central Church. He had been doing this for many years now. He knew most of the children would not care, but if he reached even one, it would be worth the effort.
They could already smell the cauldrons of meat from the kitchens. This was not by accident. This was the price of a free meal, and it assured their attention.
“Hello, children!” His voice boomed despite his years, and was carried by the unique architecture of the church interior. His speech was well-rehearsed, and he rarely deviated.
“My name is Father Artos. Many of you know me, and if you don’t, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. The food will be ready soon, as you can no doubt smell. While we wait, I would like to speak with you.”
He smiled the smile of one whose life purpose was clear, and whose conscience was assured.
“Beyond these streets, past the walls, you will find the gift of the gods. There are many names for it. We call it Danabrae. The name means ‘promise.’ The world that cannot be broken.”
Some yawned. Some others looked around. A few listened with rapt attention. Artos played to them all.
“At one time, the gods would battle. They created worlds, and their power was such that these worlds, and the champions that lived there, became dust within the blink of an eye. The stories ended too quickly, and they agreed to create a new world, one that would not be broken.
Artos added a quick flourish. “Danabrae, the promise, where the gods craft their stories, their songs, their EPICS!” The children, even the bored ones, sat up. It was a moment, crafted by an expert.
“Everything you know…everyone you meet…all part of a story. They are the stories of the gods, and they select us as their champions when we show worthiness. Ask yourself this: do you live your life like a hero in a story? This is what we strive for. This is why we exist.”

Outside, Markus crouched in an elevated alleyway near the Central Church. He was informed that somebody was going to crash the Underfeast. Somebody that Markus had wanted to meet for a very, very long time. The ranks of the rebels were growing. This was unlike the rebellions of the past, which fell easily given the dwindling ranks of starving peasants against the coffers of the King. No, this was different. The rebel leader, Paros, was finding new recruits somewhere.
Paros, he had been informed, was finding these recruits at the Underfeast. They were disgruntled and impressionable urchins and had no responsibilities. They could go wherever they wanted, without notice. Nobody would miss them. She could train them as she wished, filling their heads with her propaganda nonsense about freedom and honor.
She was going to sneak in there today, and Markus would be waiting.
In the church, Father Artos continued his speech.

“This is the House of Kalnor, the Father. It is by His grace that we exist. As a priest of Kalnor, I am forbidden from speaking the name of the Mother. Does anybody know?”
A young girl raised her hand and spoke. “Angeline?”
Artos smiled. “Yes, child. Between them, they made the promise, and populated it. They gave us the gifts of knowledge and power. Power is stored in the written word, handed down through generations, and kept in the Mage Towers. Power must be harnessed, either from the beasts of the jungle, or from the elemental forces that bind everything. From this, we make progress.”
Paros listened intently. In between pauses in Artos’ speech, she could hear movement in the passage beyond the kitchens where she had hidden herself. As a mark of respect, she would not bring a blade to the House of Kalnor, and without it she could easily blend in as one of the children. With her hair cut short, she could pass for about 15 or so, but her disguise left her weaponless, and she knew she had to be careful.
The speech would last about seven more minutes. Paros had heard it hundreds of times, both as a recruiter and as one of the children. Some of her earliest memories were of the Underfeast. Even now, she found that she missed the low-quality stew that the church served. There was nothing as strong as a smell to bring back a memory.
“The Great Wall of Covenant protects us from the beasts of the realm during the day and the forces of darkness during the night. Every morning, the valiant Knights of the Dawn ride forth and clear every trace of evil that remains under the blaze of the cleansing sun. Perhaps one of you could aspire to join the ranks of the Order of the Dawn. Some of you are close to squire age already, and your bravery is obvious. You’ve listened to an old man speak this long without leaving! Very brave!”
A smattering of nervous, polite laughter gave Artos a moment to gather himself for the final push. This was a pleasant but exhausting process. It had the virtue of being consistent, at least.

Markus stepped onto the street and, flanked by his guards, crossed the main thoroughfare with arrogant purpose. “She’s already inside,” he explained. “That’s the only thing that makes sense! Watch the door!” Markus pushed past the priests that had been assigned to laughingly ‘guard’ the door, and entered the great cathedral.

Paros heard the crash of the main door to the Lower Nave. This was new. That door was not supposed to open until after the feast! She slipped across the kitchen and silently watched.
In 31 years, since the start of the Underfeast, Father Artos had never been interrupted. He wasn’t certain how to proceed when the main door flew open, revealing a stone-faced man with the uniform of a Watch Captain. By the time the stranger had made his way through the crowd of dirty, tiny people, Artos had dropped his grandfatherly front, and became the fire-and-brimstone priest of his youth.
“What means this invasion of the Holy House of Kalnor?” he bellowed.
The children all reacted with fright and shock. This was a different person before them. Gone was the boring morals lecturer, with his terrible jokes and sly, winking smiles. This was a commander of men, whose will was not to be disobeyed.
Markus, if he was at all surprised by the transformation, showed no sign of fear. He looked around the room, scanning for a face he was certain he would not easily find. “I am looking for a criminal,” he said.
“This is a place of divinity and peace!” Artos boomed. “Take your meaningless squabbles and leave!”
Markus pointed a gauntleted finger directly at Artos. “I will leave, old one, when I have what I have come for!” He turned to face the children.
The Watch Captain stared back at a thousand eyes, all filled with terror, defiance, and dread. “Paros, the rebel leader. I want her. Now!”
Most of the faces looked confused. A few immediately avoided his gaze, including a young boy of about 11 seated very near him. Markus shot forward and grabbed the boy.
“You know something!” he yelled. “Tell me, or face the King’s justice!”
The boy cried in terror as Markus held his sword blade to the boy’s throat. His intent was not to kill, but to scare. This was always an effective tactic when interrogating children, especially with more as witness. Markus looked up at the rest of the crowd as he held his prisoner by the neck. He had their attention now. They would all see that the law could not be fooled, mocked, or ignored.
Markus realized too late that the children were not looking at his interrogation. Rather, they were looking past him.
Had he turned a second earlier, he might have seen the vague shape of a young woman as she ran silently from her hiding place, and leaped from Artos’ stage. He felt her presence a split second before a kitchen knife found the gap in his armor, and embedded itself in the shoulder of his sword arm.
Shoving the boy aside, Markus spun around, grabbed his sword in the other hand and blindly lashed out, only to have it expertly plucked from his grasp and flung harmlessly to the side.
“Predictable,” said Paros.
Markus lunged forward with his good arm, but Paros was already back atop the stage and beyond his reach.
“This is why we fight!” yelled Paros.
“You cannot fight the law!” yelled Markus.
“Yes,” said Paros. “We fight the law. WITH JUSTICE!”
The rebel leader raised her bloodied fist and the children roared. Markus was already calling for his backup guards, but the noise of five hundred street urchins drowned him out.
Artos was rushing from one side of the stage to the other, desperately trying to regain the room. Paros left quickly, having used up the day’s luck, and Artos had the unenviable task of grabbing the attention of a roomful of children, all jeering and shoving the enraged lawman.
His sword long gone, Markus started shoving and kicking his way through the sea of laughing faces. Before long, he made it to the door of the Lower Nave.
“Guards!” he yelled. The two closest City Watchmen ran to his aid.
“Sir! You are hurt!”
Markus dismissed the notion with a wave. “I want a garrison of men here in under ten minutes with five catchwagons and nets. We’re arresting every damn street urchin in that cursed church!”

Eight minutes later, Markus once again burst through the door of the Lower Nave. This time, three dozen Watchmen flowed in behind him.
“Yes, my child?” said Father Artos.
“Where are they?” demanded Markus. Their voices echoed around the mostly empty chamber.
“The children? Oh, well the Underfeast is concluded. The children opted to not eat the prepared meal, but no matter. They feasted on the words, you see?” Artos smiled in a way that Markus wanted to punch.
“You let them escape,” said Markus. He turned to his men. “Arrest everyone in this church.”
Nobody moved.
“You would come to a House of Kalnor, and attempt to mete out the justice of a King’s law?”
“Your King.”
Artos shook his head. “I have no King. I have a God.”
“Arrest him,” commanded Markus.
“Captain, we cannot,” said one of the guards.
“You cannot arrest a priest of Kalnor on holy ground. I am familiar with your law,” said Artos.
“Those that break the King’s law cannot expect to be protected by it.”
Artos sniffed. “I need not your King’s protection.”
Nobody moved.
“Leave,” commanded Artos. “Now.”
Some of the Watchmen took a step towards the door.
Markus refused to back down. He could imagine this smug priest, locked in the Dungeon of the Keep, begging and pleading for food, sunlight, or whatever comfort he had taken for granted in a near-forgotten former life.
But he knew he couldn’t win. Not today.
“I’ll be back, Artos,” he said. “You helped the rebellion, and I will see to it that this church is torn down, brick-by-brick, so we can build your tomb.”
“Don’t go to war with me, Captain. You are a leader of soldiers. I am a leader of all men. You cannot win.”
“Justice always wins.”
Father Artos smiled. His face once again gentle and warm. “Yes. Yes it does.” He turned and walked back into the Lower Nave. He intended to put the acolytes to work cleaning up after the children. And then he would give thanks to Kalnor.



Helion, the Dominator. A former Forcemage, Helion was exiled for trying to explore his powers through multiple sage disciplines. Helion has enlisted the help of the Demon Lord Raxxa in order to take the Forbidden Citadel for himself, but his machinations may have unforeseen consequences.-EPIC:TYRANTS- words of Ian, the White Wizard

Knights of the Dawn were not supposed to ride this far from Covenant, but Gladius was old, grizzled, and cared nothing for the rules of his order. Not when it would endanger the people of his home village. Breaking the laws of the order usually resulted in banishment, but Gladius had a higher purpose and was not afraid of such petty edicts.
Yalun was a trade village that had sprung up at the base of a long mountain range that the locals called Pantheon. Each of the frozen peaks was said to represent one of the gods of Danabrae. The path was treacherous, and was usually avoided this time of year.
Except by frost titans. It wasn’t often they would come down to the low land, but when they did, they caused havoc and strife.
Gladius had gathered a small militia at the northern gate of Yalun. Elara, of the Forbidden Citadel, had warned Covenant that the frost titan Velden was coming. Velden was a curious one, rarely leaving the peaks of Pantheon. The decision was made to leave him be, but Gladius had to be certain of the mighty lord’s motivations.
The ground shook, heralding the arrival of the largest being that Gladius had ever seen up close. Velden was the size of three buildings, and carried an axe that could easily split a cart in two.
“Steady,” said Gladius. “Don’t show fear.”
The titan calmly walked to the north gate of the village. With a curious look on the mighty blue features, he stopped.
“Frost lord,” said Gladius. “State your business. Are you friend, or foe?”
Velden gave a smirk. A curious gesture on one so large, but the directness of the question amused him.
“I have no quarrel with you, or your kin,” boomed Velden.
“I must ask you to walk around the village,” said Gladius.
“I give no reason.” Gladius had moved forward to confront the titan directly. “I am the defender.”
“And what do you propose to do if I walk where I please?”
Gladius sheathed his sword and pulled his longbow. Within seconds, he had an arrow nocked and aimed at the titan’s face. “First one eye, frost lord, then the other.”
Gladius scowled but said nothing. After a tense moment that felt like an hour, the titan suddenly moved. He spun, and ducked, and swung his titan axe in an arc, catching a tree to the right of the gate, and hurling it from its roots. The tree caught Gladius a glancing blow, knocking him of his horse. Gladius hit the dirt hard. He struggled to regain his composure, as he heard the titan stride over him.
“I have no wish to hurt you, defender. Stay down, and I will pass.”
Gladius regained his feet, seeing Velden had already stepped past the gate, and into the village proper. The ground shook, carts rattled, small thatched roofs started losing their straw. The people looked to him, their defender.
“Stop!” yelled Gladius, and with that he nocked another arrow and fired. The shard of wood struck the titan in the shoulder. It seemed to cause no pain, but Velden turned to face the knight once more. Another arrow had been aimed at his face.
“Knight,” said Velden. “You have heard the stories of me?”
“I have,” said Gladius.
“Stories of me tend to be quite… graphic. Are you not afraid?”
“I fear nothing.”
Velden considered this. He respected bravery. At least enough to not destroy it utterly. Plus, it made sense to have somebody that perhaps owed him a favor.
“If you will allow me,” said the frost lord, “I would like to walk around your village.”
Gladius lowered his bow and stepped aside. He was still wary of the titan’s motivation, but he was still a man of honor, and he would let the titan pass.
The footsteps had not quite receded when Gladius recovered his horse and mounted. Wherever Velden’s journey lay, Covenant would have to be warned.



Raxxa, Demon Tyrant. Raxxa’s Riftgate towers over the cursed land of The Blight. With it, the Lord of Demons can call forth a powerful army of hellish beings, but the Riftgate needs power. With the help of a forcemage, Raxxa seeks to corrupt the mighty dragon Draka, and bind the powerful hunter to his will. However, Raxxa may have underestimated the dragon’s rage.-EPIC: TYRANTS- words of Ian, the White Wizard.

The Forcemage stood at the edge of the great forest that dominated the Pasik valley. Before him ran the Everblessed, the sacred river that protected the shining city of Convenant from the Blight of the desert wasteland the peasants called the Ahn-Het Forge. The Forge is where the demons spawned. While the river flowed, they could not cross.
He stepped forward, looking for a safe place to ford, and steeling himself for the ordeal ahead, when he heard the unmistakable growl.
The Forcemage pulled back his cloak and turned. He had not expected to be interrupted. His unique talents had caused the denizens of the forest to give him a wide berth on his journey, but this was not to be a normal encounter.
“Good morning,” said Helion. His heart raced, but he did not show his fear to the two-headed firebreathing hound. This is the one the villagers called Scarros, an ancient word meaning ‘Fear.’ Two heads. Two minds. This may be a challenge.
Scarros did not approach. Helion considered running for the safety of the Everblessed, but his brief probe of the mutated beast told him that’s what Scarros was waiting for.
Helion tried to push the hound away with his mind, but all he saw was darkness and corruption. This was Raxxa’s influence. The Demon Lord had been attempting to poison Draka the Hunter with rift energy, presumably to turn the mighty dragon to his will. Draka’s mind was strong enough to resist the darkness, at least for a time, but the corruption had to go somewhere. The forest ran wild with mutations.
The villagers had told stories of the nightmares this created. Scarros was the worst of them.
Helion took a step towards his visitor. Scarros stepped back, having never experienced someone so small being so bold. Helion raised his hand to grab the mind of the mutated hound. Their souls were fire. They burned together. Slowly, one of Scarros’ heads dipped, then the other.
The Forcemage approached, and put his hand on the scaly surface of the corrupted hound. His touch had a singular effect, however. Scarros howled and reared, slamming one of his heads into Helion’s torso, and sending the Forcemage flying. He landed hard next to the flowing river.
Through the haze of pain, he saw Scarros. The hound was not charging for the kill. Helion saw a shadow pass across the sun, and heard the familiar call of the mighty hunter. Draka called to Scarros, and Scarros obeyed.
“Another time, Hunter,” said the Forcemage, his ego bruised more than anything else.
Helion stood and brushed his robes, and tried to regain his dignity. This was not a setback. The mind of corruption is a tough puzzle, but now he had the key. He knew what he did wrong with Scarros, and he would not make the same mistake again. The demons of the Ahn-Het Forge would bow to his will, and then… the Forbidden Citadel would be his.



Draka, Dragon Tyrant. Draka, the Hunter of Dargothia, turned his back on the Dragonsong to live a life of peace, where only the Hunt matters. But a bolt of dark energy from Raxxa’s Riftgate has turned his mind to ash, and his eyes to fire. Now Draka sees the city of Covenant as a threat, and vows to use his dominion over the dinosaurs to remove it from the land, brick by brick. But first…Raxxa. The Dragonsong is coming to an end, but the Demon Lord will not be alive to hear it.-EPIC: TYRANTS - words of Ian, the White Wizard.

At the Southern edge of the Pantheon mountain range fell the waters of the Everblessed. These waters were a gift from Kalnor to the people of Covenant. The river separated the Deepwood from the desert of the Ahn-Het Forge, and the demons of the Forge could not cross the river as long as it flowed.
The stench of the Everblessed was overwhelming, but Raxxa was above it all. The mighty Demon had a purpose to fulfill.
“Corpse Lord!” he bellowed. The words had barely escaped his cavernous maw when, with the suddenness of death, Zannos appeared among the trees at the edge of the forest. The necromancer walked alone, but the roiling earth surrounding him suggested that he was not undefended.
The two unholy beings faced each other from opposite shores of the holy river. Raxxa could not cross, and Zannos was too smart to enter the Forge.
“I am not accustomed to being summoned, O lord of the nether-wastes.”
Raxxa’s glare was constant. He would love nothing more than to pull out the spine of the evil wizard, and throw it over the walls of Covenant, but this was a time for diplomacy.
“We desire the same thing.” said Raxxa. “The destruction of Covenant.”
Zannos smirked. “I agree with your goals, though your methods are sub-optimal. Your rift gate has no power, and your armies are small. There is also the matter of this river.”
“What kind of world is this, where the land holds no power? I cannot draw anything from it!”
“I can,” said Zannos. “It requires nuance to awaken the dead. I doubt your…lordship…has the touch for such delicate work.”
Raxxa bristled. The Demon Lord cared nothing for nuance and delicacy, but he would not tolerate disrespect.
“Have a care, corpsemonger. This river will dry up soon, and thus goes your protection from my wrath.”
“You have knowledge of the Dragonsong?”
“I do.” Most beings couldn’t hear the Dragonsong; many even claimed it didn’t exist. Dragons and priests were said to hear it and use it to interpret the will and whims of the gods. One thing all believers seemed to agree upon: when the song ended, the whatever game the gods played would be over.
Zannos considered this. “The song will end soon?”
“Very soon,” said Raxxa. “The river will run dry, and then Covenant will fall.”
“What do you desire of me?”
“Oppose me not, deadlord, and I will leave behind cemeteries bulging with corpses. But hear this, if I or my demons even see you or your puppets…”
“Worry not, demon. I will remain out of your way. I also wish for the fall of the shining city.” Zannos’ mouth turned into a dark smile. “Perhaps one eon, you and I will meet in the final battle.’
“I care nothing for the gods or their games,” said Raxxa. “I do as I wish.”
“Then why attack the city at all?”
Raxxa turned and walked back into the Ahn-Het Forge. He would not answer the human’s query. He had no answer, because he had never asked himself this very question. Why attack the city?
Zannos grinned as Raxxa entered the heat haze of the vast desert. The Demon Lord knew nothing of puppets. He would learn soon enough, at the fall of Covenant.



The mighty Velden has come from the far north. Has this wrathful titan come to fight the forces of Draka and demons of Raxxa, or is he just another one of the mysterious Helion’s puppets? The fairies say he is the one heralded by the mist guides, and they’ve rallied to his banner. As his forces come closer to the city of Covenant, the question looms: hero or villain?-EPIC: UPRISING- words of Ian, the White Wizard.

“Do you question my orders, Captain Markus?”
“No, Lord Chamberlain,” said the Watch-Captain. “I want to confirm them. Martial law is not something that the people will easily forget, or forgive.”
Chamberlain Kark stalked to the window of his garish office. He enjoyed watching people, as long as they were small, and distant. “They will remember that we kept them safe. The priests all tell me that the Dragonsong is ending soon. If one believes such things.”
“I will lock the city down, as you wish,” said Markus. “I have heard the howl of Draka on the wind. It is only a matter of time before he attacks the city directly.”
“It’s more than that,” said Kark. “Raxxa and Zannos have ended their petty squabble, and those fools at the Forbidden Citadel have lost control of their own. Spies report a titan from the North approaching. We have to be ready for anything.”
Markus frowned. “If it is true that we are but pieces in a game of the gods, then I refuse to be discarded. I intend to make my mark, and the gods will know my name.”
Chamberlain Kark nodded. “You are my most effective weapon against the chaos. There are dark times ahead, but we have good men, and demons run when good men go to war.”
Captain Markus turned and left. He would clean the streets, and save his city. The Battle of Covenant was coming, and he intended to win.




The Winters in Danabrae were mercifully short. The snow covered the grounds near Covenant for a few weeks at most, but this had an unfortunate effect on the local wildlife. Hunting was much tougher, and Keira learned that the villages that dotted the countryside were all vulnerable to attack from anything with teeth.
One of her first training missions with the Wolf Callers took her to three villages. The wolves ran with them, as they always did. The freedom of the wolf run was overwhelming. The Callers called, and the wolves joined them as allies.
The first two villages were uneventful. The Wolf Callers traded food and medicines, and left without incident. The approach to the third village, Fen Behren, became frenetic. The Wolf Callers ahead of Keira, five in all, spurred their horses to a fast gallop, with shouts and calls to action. She smelled the burning, and did the same as the others.
The scene that unfolded was straight out of a story of nightmares. Villagers lay dead, and dying. There was not one building that was undamaged by fire. The heat from the flames melted the snow, and turned the ground into a soupy mess of mud, making it hard to traverse.
Keira dismounted and ran as best she could, but anybody that she approached was already done for. Eventually she found a young man that was dressed in the uniform of a village constable. His leg was missing below the knee, and he had clearly lost a lot of blood, but he was alive. She started to bind his wounds to stop the bleeding.
“Scarros,” said Darrian. Darrian was the leader of the Wolf Caller team, and had approached Keira from behind. She was too focused to hear his footsteps in the mud, but she heard the name of the mutated wolf that served the Hunter, Draka.
“Scarros did all this? Why?”
“Nothing else to hunt.” Darrian shook his head. “We have been aware of Scarros in recent months, but his mutations are getting…more severe. Whatever is poisoning this area is still happening, and it is coming from the Forge.”
The Ahn-Het Forge was a vast desert several leagues away. It was a cursed place, where demons spawned. The Wolf Callers would not go there, but it did explain a lot. Scarros was being mutated by demonic rift energy, and the same energy was slowly driving Draka out of his mind.
Darrian mounted his horse. “You and Garrick stay here. We will patrol the area, and return before dusk.”
It was just after dusk when the men returned. Some of the survivors of the massacre at Fen Behren were resting, but the young constable died in Keira’s arms that afternoon. She later found out his name, but it didn’t matter.


Deep in the shadows of Pantheon is the source of most of the vampires of Danabrae. They are fallen humans, caught between rules. They hunt North of Covenant, usually stalking the small hunting and fishing villages.”-EPIC: BGG Forums- words of Ian, the White Wizard.

Keira didn’t go out on patrol any more that Winter. She was relegated to stable duty. They assured her that it was not a punishment, simply a rotation of duties, and she believed them. Mostly.
On a particularly late afternoon, Keira became very aware that she had been followed.

Though Wolf Callers had most of their expertise outside the walls of Covenant, Keira had spent fifteen years surviving the streets. She ducked down an alley, doubled back down another, and finally came up against a familiar face that glared at her from the other side of a small, dilapidated courtyard.
“Greetings, Wolf Caller,” said Paros. The rebel leader was only a few months older, but looked so much more weathered. The twin daggers she held glinted in the sliver of moonlight that was caught between the tall buildings.
Keira stopped. “Rebel leader,” she bowed, in a curious mocking tone.
“My mistake was not recognizing you as the lackey of Markus,” said Paros. “The soldiers did not catch most of us that night, but we currently have three good warriors as guests of the King. Imprisoned this last six months, and with no end in sight…but I’m sure Captain Markus would be open to an exchange.”
Keira did not back down. It was clear that Paros intended to kidnap her, but there were very good reasons why Keira chose this particular spot in which to be ambushed.
Three very good reasons.
Paros saw the eyes glinting in the moonlight before the heard the growls. From three different directions came three vicious-looking wolves. Paros met Keira’s gaze.
“You see that I do not come alone, but the idea of a capture is intriguing…” Keira smiled, but almost immediately became aware of three blades being drawn from hidden scabbards. Paros had not come alone either.
The young fighters stared at each other across the barely lit courtyard.
“Stalemate,” said Paros.
“Agreed,” said Keira.
“I will not let that man take me,” said Paros. “I’ll kill him first.”
Any comeback from Keira would have been lost to the night air. The rebel leader was gone.


Captain Markus’ tyrannical grip on the people of Covenant has sparked an uprising. With the city in chaos, Chamberlain Kark has issued an edict declaring martial law. As the Watch make scores of arrests, popular support for the uprising grows even stronger. Will justice prevail?-EPIC: UPRISING- words of Ian, the White Wizard.

Markus spat. “I wish I had been there!’
“It wasn’t really your scene,” said Keira. She had her feet on his desk again. He gently disengaged them.
Markus shook his head. She could tell his frustration. “I need this rebellion to be over! Don’t they see the increase in demon activity? They send in small fliers at night. I issued each man a bow, but they still get through. They snatch anything small and valuable. Coins. Weapons. Eyes. I’m trying to keep these idiots off the streets and safe!”
“Draka’s attacking the villagers too,” said Keira. She knew he didn’t care. Markus figured if people wanted to live outside the protection of the walls of Covenant, they deserved what they got.
However, the name of the Hunter got his attention. “Draka attacked the wall two weeks ago. He’s never come that close.”
“I’ve only seen him once, from afar.” Keira sat up. She couldn’t recall a time when they both had the same problem.
“What do the Wolf Callers teach you to do?”
Markus scowled. “Ok, that doesn’t help at all.”
Keira opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden noise intruded on the conversation. It wasn’t really a noise…more like a note. She and Markus ran outside. From the Watch Keep, they could see the Temple of Kalnor, and hovering just above the very top spire was a huge, magnificent white dragon.
“Thundarus,” said Markus. “Another bloody dragon. Why does it have to be bloody dragons?”
Keira’s smirk upon hearing Markus curse still happened, but she was too distracted to enjoy it. “What is Thundarus?”
“According to the Priesthood, he’s the Herald of Kalnor, whose peak lies in the North.”
“Is he…singing?”
Markus shrugged, and started to walk back into his office, but Keira still thought the sight of a giant, singing dragon somewhat magnificent.
“Are there supposed to be two dragons?”
In the mere few seconds that it took for the Watch Captain to return, the two dragons had become three. They soared in a majestic pattern above the Temple of Kalnor, and they sang together.
“What is it?” asked Keira.
“I don’t know,” said Markus. He hated not knowing. “The priests tell of the Dragonsong, maybe this is it?”
Keira looked at him. “When the song ends, the game is over…”
“Poppycock,” said Markus, and he walked back inside.
Keira watched the magnificent display, as did about a thousand people in the nearby streets. Covenant had stopped to hear the dragons sing. It was a song of beauty and hope, and Keira wished that it would never end.


Keira’s squad followed the Knights of the Dawn out of the gates. The Summer sun peeked over the treeline at her, and the crisp air washed over Keira’s face. The Knights branched off, leaving the Wolf Callers to run deeper and gather the pack. They would unite the wolves and run as one, balancing the chaos of nature with order. It was a dance. An agreement. Each side coming together and learning from the other.
Keira’s existence finally had meaning. She loved Markus. He was her family. Her brother. But this kind of love was different. There was a kind of…aggressive peace in the deepwood. An understanding that everything had to be fought for and over, and the only existence that had meaning was one without purpose. Keira had always avoided responsibility, and she finally knew why it felt right.
The Wolf Callers were at full gallop when the peace of Covenant exploded. The tiny band of three saw the sky blacken as a horde of demons flew overhead, and they heard the sound of a city scream. Keira was aware of the recent insurgency, but this was different. This was a war, and Markus would be defending the wall. They would need every warrior to return home.
The Battle of Covenant had begun.


The initial wave of flying demons had been turned back by the archers, but the larger ground forces would soon be here, and the walls of Covenant, hundreds of years old, had never had to withstand an assault of such magnitude. However, Markus had trained his garrison well, and the rest of the city forces had been prepared by their own commanders. The shining city would not fall easily. It could hold for many days, and it would.
The gate was mercifully open when Keira approached. She looked down the heads of a hundred arrows all pointed at her as she rode through the gate and turned towards the Square of the Dawn where she stabled her horse.

The Hunter flew overhead, watching the action. Draka was aware that the humans were skilled with their tiny bows, and watched with some amusement when several hundred demons blindly flew into a wall of well-placed arrows. Those within the walls would not die easily. Draka had traditionally avoided the shining city. The hunting was poor, and the bows were swift. However, he could not resist the challenge when he saw the men on the wall. A hundred stood where there might usually be three or four, and he could not resist.

There was a crisp tenseness in the air. The people of the usually crowded streets had faded into the background, leaving only soldiers and hushed silence. There were whispers about fighting in the North of the city. Rumor was the Forbidden Citadel was also under attack, but she cared nothing for the Forcemages or their weird crystals.
Then she heard the screams. From the wall along the far South of the city, fire and death rained. The smell was unique, and familiar.
The Hunter had strafed the wall. The wall was packed with soldiers, and the dragon could not resist such an easy kill. Keira got to the barracks just in time to see Markus yelling at the retreating men, many of them recent recruits.
“Cowards!” he screamed. “All men to the wall, or the city dies! We are the shield of Covenant!”
Most of them ignored him. As inspirational as Markus was, Draka was a terror that could not be easily overcome. Keira rushed towards him, but Markus did not even see her. He grabbed his weapons and a handful of arrows, and he climbed the steps to the wall where the fire still burned.
“Markus!” she called, but he did not respond. Keira ran behind him, vowing to stand with her brother until the very end, but from the corner of her eye she saw a familiar sight. Leaping from rooftops, and crossing the impossibly dense series of buildings with an inhuman acrobatic ease, was Paros.
Keira switched directions in order to intercept the rebel leader, lest Markus find a dagger in his back at his moment of challenge.

Markus reached the top of the wall and looked out. The dragon was circling overhead, possibly looking for another easy kill. Filled with rage, he took his bow, nocked an arrow, and fired. The Hunter was too far up for Markus to tell if he had struck his mark, but it made no matter. The dragon noticed him, and flew in to rid himself of this whelp.
Keira saw the dragon’s dive, and her heart leapt into her throat. She had never seen such bravery. Markus did not move at all. He simply nocked another arrow and waited. As the dragon moved closer, she saw the flame build up in his throat, but mere seconds before the fiery volley was due, Markus sank an arrow deep into Draka’s throat. Directionless fire spewed from the mouth of the Hunter as his flame sac burst, and Draka pulled out of his steep dive, screaming in rage and pain.

Markus breathed a sigh. His confidence was his strongest ally, but even he had to admit his luck was indeed grand. He watched the Hunter circle again, this time on a different approach. Draka’s wings unfolded, and with a ground-shaking crash, he landed atop the wall. The Hunter turned to Markus, and screeched in his direction.

Most men would have recoiled from that display of hatred and rage. Markus instead drew his sword, and his dagger.
“Alright, beastie,” he said. “I bested you at range, let’s see your close game.”

The dragon approached, claws and talons razor-sharp, and more teeth than Markus could count. Markus tightened his grip, and loosened his stance. He would make his mark, and the Gods would know his name.
Paros had already drawn one of her throwing daggers when Keira crashed into her, sending both women tumbling down near the edge of the roof. Keira recovered first, grabbing Paros by the throat as they rose and pushing her against the stone wall of the next building over. Paros pulled another dagger, which Keira knocked out of her hand, but the distraction was successful, as the rebel leader managed to drive her knee into Keira’s midsection, and kick her over the edge of the roof.
Keira tumbled down, and landed hard on her back. Her fall had been partially broken by a washing line, but she bore most of the impact on her back, and it knocked the wind out of her.
Paros looked down at Keira. “Wolf Caller! This is not the time for petty squabbles! I defend the city, and I ally with all others that defend the city!”
Keira was unable to argue the point as Paros vanished. She forced herself to move. Her body was one giant bruise, but she would not fail Markus.

Draka approached his prey carefully. This human was not like the others, and he was worthy of caution. The Hunter was used to his prey being afraid, and he was not sure whether he should respect a being that showed no fear, or crush it harder.
Draka chose both.
Another screech for good measure. Let the Gods hear this contest. The Dragonsong was long gone from his mind, but he was aware of their presence still, and he was aware that the song was about to end.
The Hunter was so engrossed in this contest of will and strength, he did not expect the dagger that struck just under his right wing. Enraged, he turned, his mighty tail whipping around. Markus might have been crushed by it if he was not so close to the ramparts. Draka saw the tiny female human just as the second dagger pierced his eye.
Draka howled his fury, but almost immediately, he felt the other human jump on his back, and he felt a sharp pain where his right wing met his body.
Markus had seen Paros approach, and was mildly surprised that her target was Draka, but he took his advantage where he could, and sank his weapons deep into the muscle controlling Draka’s wing. He grit his teeth, aware that this would be the fight of his life.
The Hunter thrashed around with the fury of the gods to try and dislodge the watch captain, but Markus had used both his sword and dagger, plunging each one deep into the side of the dragon. He could feel his body slamming against Draka’s bone scales, and he could feel the fog closing in, suggesting blood loss. Markus knew he had little time to act. He grimaced and twisted the sword with all of his might, trying to tear the wing tendon right out of his foe.
Draka screeched louder than ever, and Markus knew he had made progress. However Draka, desperate to escape this fresh new hell, pounced forward and charged the ramparts of the wall of Covenant. He tried in vain to achieve the dragonflight that Markus had taken from him. Man and monster crashed into the heavy stonework with a sickening thud.
Paros watched as Draka slammed himself and Markus into the wall. The dragon flipped over the lip and tumbled to the earth far below. Markus, covered in blood, was leaning where he had hit the unyielding stone, having finally lost grip of his weapons. He was limp. She ran towards him. Paros didn’t know what would happen next, but that was the nature of the day. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Keira. The Wolf Caller had climbed the inner wall behind Markus, and was also running towards the watch captain.

Markus sighed. His body failed to move. The pain. He made a single attempt to get up, but bones were broken. Shattered. He could no longer hold a sword. He saw the blood, and knew it was mostly his.
He had seen the dragon attempt to fly, and he heard the mighty beast tumble over the wall. He felt good about that. The city would no longer fear Draka.
Markus moved his head to the left. He could vaguely make out Keira, running toward him. He saw her screaming, but he could not hear it. There was a rush of noise in his head, like a river flowing past him. It sounded like music. The last dying note of an epic song.
He heard the gods whisper his name, and heard himself laugh.

Paros reached Markus first. She dropped to her knees, yelling for him to wake up. Her frenetic pace slowed down when she saw the blood, and the glassy-eyed stare. She put her hand to his neck. Paros looked to Keira, and the Wolf Caller stopped running. It was no use. Captain Arik Markus, hated Tyrant of the Watch, and the Hero of Covenant, was dead.
Keira’s howling stopped, as did her sprint. After a moment’s hesitation, she ran to the edge of the wall and looked to where the dragon fell, but nothing was there. She saw the flattened earth, and the tracks leading to the deepwood, and she swore.
Paros didn’t see which way Keira went. The rebel leader reached out and closed the watch captain’s eyes. She didn’t want anyone to find the body without knowing of the heroic sacrifice. Paros realized that she may be stuck here for a while until someone finally came along.
“You finally did it, you old bastard,” she smirked. “You finally caught me.”


With the city of Covenant in the midst of a savage uprising, a dark force is growing in the shadows. Zannos, the Corpse Lord, is using the casualties of the conflict to provide more soldiers for his army of plague zombies. Can the will of Zannos be stopped before it’s too late?- EPIC: UPRISING- words of Ian, the White Wizard.

Draka was not used to running. He crashed through the scrub and trees of the deepwood in a way that no true hunter does. He needed to escape. No human had dealt as much damage as that one had, and the pain and blood loss was catching up to him.
The Hunter broke into a small clearing and fell. If he could not fly, he would need help. Draka let out a cry that Scarros would hear no matter where the mutated wolf was, and then put his head down, just for a moment. The battle had been a long one, but he had won. He was Draka, the Hunter. He always won.
It wasn’t long before Draka heard the howls. Twin voices, signalling their proximity to their master.
Then he heard a third. Then a fourth. And a dozen more. Draka looked all around the clearing. He knew what this was. He had experienced it thousands of times. This was the end of a hunt.
All in all, fifteen wolves had surrounded the dragon, and all of them were snarling, baring fangs, and making every sign of a coordinated group attack. Draka bared his own fangs. His fire had been taken by the same human that took his flight, but he was far from helpless.
Then he saw the human. The female of the species. Draka had seen this one before, riding with the wolves as they ran. Draka finally understood. He did not curse his fortune. He had played the game and lost. He had been outhunted.
Keira had cried earlier, but her tears were long gone. Everything good about her had been taken.
Taken by him. Taken by the dragon.
She was empty inside, except for her rage, and her hate, and she had nothing to say to the legendary hunter. She spoke the command. The only command she could give at this time, and the wolves attacked as one.


For years, the wilds around the city of Covenant have been terrorized by the mighty Draka. Now, there are whispers that the tyrannical dragon may have been defeated. This is small comfort to those being burned out of their homes by Draka’s hound, Scarros. With each fiery battle, Scarros’ power seems to grow. Will someone defeat him before the wilds are consumed in flame?-EPIC: UPRISING- words of Ian, the White Wizard.

Keira watched impassively as the dragon fought a losing battle. One or two of the wolves fell, but the cumulative effect of a dozen sets of jaws gradually tore him apart. The battle was over long before he died, and the memories of a thousand hunts flooded his mind as the night closed in. Draka thought he heard the Dragonsong one last time, and then all went dark.
Keira dismounted her horse and sat, watching the wolves pick at the corpse. One by one, they discovered that there wasn’t much edible meat on a dragon, and they left to find a juicier hunt. The Wolf Caller lay on her back and watched the sun starting to set. The sounds of battle had long since dwindled, but she knew she was nothing left for her in Covenant. She lay on her back and let the sounds of nature fill her mind.

Keira’s horse reacted before she did to the sudden appearance of the mutated hound. She sprang to her feet. The light had gone behind the trees, but she could see the flames clearly outlining the scaled two-headed monster. Scarros entered the clearing tentatively, and slowly approached his fallen master.
Keira felt like she was six years old again. She felt the same apprehension and helplessness as that day, where she first saw the wolves, but this was different. Her protector would not save her. That man, who kept her straight and out of trouble, that made sure she was clothed, fed, and educated…he was her only family, and he could not save her now.
Keira took a deep breath and stepped towards the fire hound. Scarros looked up and snarled, but did not otherwise react. She approached him, her palm towards him.
“Hello,” she said. She wasn’t sure why. “My name is Keira,” she added.
Scarros felt the mind of this human reaching into his own, but unlike the last human that did this, it was more inviting. More pleasant. This was not a demand for obedience, this was a request for friendship.
Scarros allowed the woman to touch him. She ran her hand slowly down his back, feeling the scales there. She touched his mind, and saw only cruelty and fear.
This poor creature was a victim.
She put her other arm on his back, and slid her hands to the back of his necks. “Come with me,” she said. Her unspoken promise to him ensured his devotion.
Scarros snorted, and nuzzled her.
“You’re free now,” she said, and she looked to the reddened sky that hovered over the now burning city. “We’re both free,” she whispered.
Scarros snorted again, and he trotted off with nary a glance towards his former master. His mind touched hers once more. He would revel in his new-found freedom. He was the hunter now. A last thought lingered before he disappeared into the trees. When she called, he would answer.
Keira mounted her horse and rode. She didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t care, as long as there were wolves, and a place in which to hunt.



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Ian Taylor
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Re: Collection of Epic Lore


I can't describe how I feel about the effort here. Suffice to say, you have made a very bad week quite a bit better.

<3 all of you.

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Spencer S
United States
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Re: Collection of Epic Lore
Well it was certainly my pleasure, it was fun arranging it. Hopefully the weekend will be much better for you.

I would hope that we get to hear more about Helion, the Forbidden Citadel, Raxxa, zannos, and pretty much everything else. Also, is a particular watch captain going to reappear in a new form? (Zombie, spirit etc)
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Ian Taylor
United States
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Re: Collection of Epic Lore
Suspence wrote:
Well it was certainly my pleasure, it was fun arranging it. Hopefully the weekend will be much better for you.

I would hope that we get to hear more about Helion, the Forbidden Citadel, Raxxa, zannos, and pretty much everything else. Also, is a particular watch captain going to reappear in a new form? (Zombie, spirit etc)

The gods are fickle, so never say never, but I think we're done with Arik Markus. At least for now. I found his character to be the most intriguing, so bringing him back for repeat bows might erode the things that made him interesting to me and the readers. It would have to A) serve the story organically, and B) be awesome.

It's still possible to hear from our favourite Watch Captain (as well as our favourite Mighty Hunter), since stories will be told from different parts of the timeline leading up to the Battle of Covenant.

I have a few stories plotted, but nothing locked and loaded right now. I write the bulk of them in my spare time, which is inconsistent and fleeting. If you want more, let WWG know! Tell them what you like, and what you'd like to see.

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Spencer S
United States
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Re: Collection of Epic Lore
IanWWG wrote:
Suspence wrote:
Well it was certainly my pleasure, it was fun arranging it. Hopefully the weekend will be much better for you.

I would hope that we get to hear more about Helion, the Forbidden Citadel, Raxxa, zannos, and pretty much everything else. Also, is a particular watch captain going to reappear in a new form? (Zombie, spirit etc)

The gods are fickle, so never say never, but I think we're done with Arik Markus. At least for now. I found his character to be the most intriguing, so bringing him back for repeat bows might erode the things that made him interesting to me and the readers. It would have to A) serve the story organically, and B) be awesome.

It's still possible to hear from our favourite Watch Captain (as well as our favourite Mighty Hunter), since stories will be told from different parts of the timeline leading up to the Battle of Covenant.

I have a few stories plotted, but nothing locked and loaded right now. I write the bulk of them in my spare time, which is inconsistent and fleeting. If you want more, let WWG know! Tell them what you like, and what you'd like to see.


Done! I just Sent WWG a plea for more content.

That battle between Draka and Markus was pretty darn good. Nevertheless, I am excited to move on to learn more about other characters and read other viewpoints as the Battle for Covnant unfolds. I can't wait to see where Velden, Raxxa, Helion and others go/do. Helion and the Forbidden Citadel would be interesting as a new viewpoint. Anyways, I am looking forward to whatever you can come up with despite limited spare time. Keep up the great work!
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